It was not necessary to speak very loud.

I asked, “Whose picket is that?”

My voice sounded strangely tremulous.

There was no answer.

If they were Confederates, I was in their rear, and there would be no sense in their refusal to reply; some one would have said, “Come up and see!” or something.  There was no movement.  I could see that the black spots had become large objects; the moon was shining.

I must ask again.

I remember that at that moment I thought of our Captain—­dead that day.

I spoke again, “Gentlemen, is that the picket of Ramseur’s brigade?”

No answer.

Again I spoke, “Gentlemen, is that Ramseur’s North Carolina brigade?”

Not a word.

It now seemed folly for me to remain.  Who were these men?  Certainly Federals.  I was in imminent danger of being captured.  Two or three men might rush forward and seize me before I could get to my feet.  Yet, would not a line of our men out here be silent?  They would be very near the enemy and would be very silent.  But they would send a man back to make me stop talking.  They were Yankees; but why did they not say something? or do something?  Perhaps they were in doubt about me.  I was so near their lines they could hardly believe me a Confederate.  I half decided to slip away at once.

But I wished some conclusion to the matter.  I wanted to satisfy the lieutenant and myself also.

Again I spoke, “Will you please tell me what brigade that is?”

A voice replied, “Our brigade!”

This reply, in my opinion, was distinctly Confederate.  I had heard it frequently.  It was an old thing.  Often, when waiting for troops to pass, you would ask, “What regiment is that?” and some-would-be wag would say, “Our regiment.”

I rose to my feet behind the post, but dropped again as quickly.  Before I had stood erect the thought came that possibly the Yankees also had this old by-word.  Then another thought—­had the Yankees selected one man to reply to me?  Had all but one been ordered to preserve silence, and was this one an expert chosen to entrap me?  A man perhaps who knew something of the sayings in the Southern army?

Now, in an effort to bring things to a pass, I shouted loud, “What army do you belong to?”

Another voice shouted loud, “What army do you belong to?”

I had emphasized the word “army.”  He had emphasized the word “you.”

Perhaps they thought I might be one of their own men, sent out in front and trying to return; but if that were the case, why did they not bid me come in?  If they thought me a Confederate, very likely they thought I was trying to desert, and feeling my way through fear of falling into the hands of the wrong people.

I replied at once, “I am a rebel.”

What it was that influenced me to use the word I do not know, unless it was that I thought that if they were our men I was safe, being in their rear, and that if they were Yankees they would at once accept the challenge.  I wanted to end the matter.