They were all one people, Yanks and Johnny Rebs, and no one could possibly know that he was from the Southern army.
Only one question bothered him.

He did not know what to do with the horse.
But he rode briskly ahead, trusting that the problem of the horse would solve itself, and, as he turned a field, several men in blue uniforms rode forward and ordered him to halt.

Harry obeyed promptly.
"Where are you going ?" asked the leading man, a minor officer.
"To Washin'ton," replied the boy in the uncouth language that he thought fitted his role.
"And what are you going to Washington for ?" "To sell this hoss," replied Harry, on the impulse of the moment.
"I raised him myself, but he's too fine fur me to ride, specially when hosses are bringin' sech good prices." "He is a fine animal," said the officer, looking at him longingly.
"Do you want to sell him now ?" Harry shook his head.
"No," he replied.

"I'm goin' to make one o' them big bugs in Washin'ton pay fur him an' pay fur him good." The officer laughed.
"You're not such a simpleton as you look," he said.

"You're right.
They'll pay you more for him in the capital than I could.