“No, sir,” said I; “to the contrary, I have made a success of it.”

“Well, we shall see about that,” he exclaimed; “here! get up behind one of my men.  We want you.”

For me to go with the cavalry and show them the plain road before their eyes, was ridiculous.  As I hesitated, the captain cried out, “Here, Sergeant, take two men and carry this man to the rear!”

“Captain, please don’t be so fast,” said I; “one of my comrades is near by with our horses—­” I was going to say more, but he interrupted me, crying, “We intend to pay our respects to all your comrades.  No more from you, sir!”

As I showed no willingness to mount behind a man, the sergeant and detail marched me down the road.  I endeavoured to talk to the sergeant, but he refused to hear me.

This affair had puzzled me, and it continued to puzzle me for a short while, but I soon saw what it meant, and saw why I had not understood from the first.  My mind had been so fixed upon my direct duty that I had not once thought of my pretended character.  For his part, the captain had supposed that I was a Confederate deserter coming into the Union lines.  This was now simple enough, but why, under such circumstances, he had not questioned me in regard to what was in his front, I could not at all understand.  I tried again to speak, but was commanded to be silent.

This was a ludicrous experience, though unpleasant.  My only serious consideration was in regard to Jones.  I feared that he would wait for me indefinitely, and would be captured.  Although such a result could bring no blame to me, yet I was very anxious about him.  Concerning myself, I knew that I could suffer restraint but a very short time; just so soon as I could get speech with any officer willing to listen, I should be set right.

The sergeant and his two men marched me back nearly to Hawes’s shop, some two miles beyond Crump’s Creek, where I was brought before Colonel Tyler, who was in command of two or three infantry regiments which had advanced from Old Church on that morning.

Colonel Tyler was the centre of a group of officers; the regiments were under arms.  The sergeant in charge of me reported that I was a Confederate deserter, whom the Pennsylvania cavalry had found in the woods beyond Crump’s Creek.  Colonel Tyler nodded, and began to question me.

“When did you leave your regiment?”

“On the 22d, Colonel,” I replied.

“That is a long time to lie out in the woods,” said he; “now be sure that your memory is right.  What day of the month is this?”

“The 24th, I think, sir.”

“And it has taken you two days to come a few miles?”

“From what place, Colonel?”

“Why, from Hanover.”

“No, sir; it has taken me but a few hours.”

“What is your regiment?”

“The Eleventh Massachusetts, Colonel.”

The colonel smiled.  Then he looked angry.  Then he composed his countenance.