General Bankhead gruffly ordered me out of his office and off the reservation, declaring that if I didn’t leave in a hurry he would have me removed by force.

I told him he might do this and be hanged, using, very possibly, a stronger expression.  That night, while sleeping at the Perry House, I was awakened by a tap on my shoulder and was astonished to see the room filled with armed negro soldiers with their guns all pointed at me.  The first word came from the sergeant.

“Now looka heah, Massa Bill; if you move we’ll blow you off de fahm, suah!” Just then Captain Ezekial entered, and ordered the soldiers to stand back.

“I’m sorry, Bill,” he said, when I demanded to know what this meant.  “But I’ve been ordered by General Bankhead to arrest you and bring you to Fort Wallace.”

“All right,” said I.  “But you could have made the arrest without bringing the whole Thirty-eighth Infantry with you.”

“I know that, Bill, but you’ve not been in a very good humor the last day or two, and we didn’t know how you’d act.”

I dressed hurriedly and accompanied the captain to Fort Wallace.  When we reached there at two o’clock in the morning the captain said: 

“Bill, I’m sorry, but my orders are to put you in the guardhouse.”

I told him I did not blame him for carrying out orders, and was made a guardhouse prisoner for the first and only time in my life.  The sergeant of the guard, who was an old friend from Captain Graham’s company, refused to put me in a cell, kindly allowing me to sleep in his own bed, and in a few minutes I was sound asleep.

Captain Graham called to see me in the morning.  He said it was a shame to lock me up, and promised to speak to the general about it.  At guard-mount, when I was not summoned, I sent word to Captain Graham that I wanted to see General Bankhead.  He sent back word that the general refused to have anything to do with me.

As it was impossible to send word to General Carr, I determined to send a dispatch direct to General Sheridan.  I wrote out a long telegram, informing him of my difficulty.  But when it was taken to the telegraph office for transmission the operator refused to send it at once.  Instead he showed it to General Bankhead, who tore it up.  When no reply came I went to the office, accompanied by a guard, and learned from the operator what he had done.

“See here, my young friend,” said I, “this is a public telegraph line.  I want my telegram sent, or there’ll be trouble.”

He knew very well it was his duty to send the dispatch.  I rewrote it and gave it to him, with the money to pay for it.  But before he made any effort to transmit it he called on General Bankhead and informed him of what I had said.  Seeing that the dispatch would have to go through, the general sent for me.

“If I let you go, sir, will you leave the Post at once and not bother anyone at Sheridan?” he demanded.