We were ordered to get up.

The first question asked us was: "Who are you." This was spoken in so mild a tone as to lead me to believe that we might possibly be in the hands of gentlemen, if not indeed in those of friends.
It was some time before any one answered.

The boys, by their looks and the expression of their countenances, seemed to appeal to me for a reply to get them out of their present dilemma, if possible.

Before I had time to collect my thoughts, we were startled by these words, coming from the same man that had asked the original question: "You had better not hesitate, for we have an idea who you are, and should it prove that we are correct, it will be the worse for you." "'Who do you think we are ?' I inquired." "'Horse thieves and moss-backs,' was the reply." I jumped at the conclusion instantly that in order to save our lives, we had better at once own the truth.

In a very few words I told them who we were, where we were from, how long we had been on the road, etc.