stayed there but a short time, and I went back and got my gun and other accoutrements.
AM CAPTURED.
When I left the old priest's house, it was then good day—nearly sun up—and I had started back toward our lines, and had walked on about half a mile, not thinking of danger, when four Yankees jumped out in the middle of the road and said, "Halt, there," "O, yes, we've got you at last." I was in for it. What could I do? Their guns were cocked and leveled at me, and if I started to run, I would be shot, so I surrendered. In a very short time the regiment of Yankee cavalry came up, and the first greeting I had, was, "Hello, you ain't No. 200, are you?" I was taken prisoner. They, I thought, seemed to be very gleeful about it, and I had to march right back by the old priest's house, and they carried me to the headquarters of General Stephen Williams. As soon as he saw me, he said, "Who have you there—a prisoner, or a deserter?" They said a prisoner. From what command? No one answered. Finally he asked me what command I belonged to. I told him the Confederate States army? Then, said he, "What is your name?" Said I, "General, if that would be any information, I would have no hesitancy in giving it. But I claim your protection as a prisoner of war. I am a private soldier in the Confederate States army, and I don't feel authorized to answer any question you may ask." He looked at me with a kind of quizical look, and said, "That is the way with you Rebels. I have never yet seen one of you, but thought what little information he might possess to be of value to the Union forces." Then one of the men spoke up and said, "I think he is a spy or a scout, and does not belong to the regular army." He then gave me a close look, and said, "Ah, ah, a guerilla," and ordered me to be taken to the Provost Marshal's office. They carried me to a large, fine house, up-stairs, and I was politely requested to take a seat. I sat there some moments,
