With a grin and a nod, he accepted the trust, and I started down along the walls of the Stockade alone.

In order to make this more plain, and to show what a risk I was running at the time, I will state that between the Stockade and a brick wall, fully as high as the Stockade fence that was parallel with it, throughout its entire length on that side, there was a space of not more than thirty feet.

On the outside of this Stockade was a platform, built for the guards to walk on, sufficiently clear the top to allow them to look inside with ease, and on this side, on the platform, were three guards.

I had traveled about fifty feet only, from the gate office, when I heard the command to "Halt!" I did so, of course.
"Where are you going, you d---d Yank ?" said the guard.
"Going after my clothes, that are over there in the wash," pointing to a small cabin just beyond the Stockade, where I happened to know that the officers had their washing done.
"Oh, yes," said he; "you are one of the Yank's that's been on, parole, are you ?" "Yes." "Well, hurry up, or you will get left." The other guards heard this conversation and thinking it all right I was allowed to pass without further trouble.

I went to the cabin in question--for I saw the last guard on the line watching me, and boldly entered.