The sergeant returns and reports no such name, when he remarks: "You have to go to the guard-house." Says I, "Colonel (I knew his rank was that of captain), if you send me to the guard-house, you will do me a great wrong.

Here is where I was wounded." I pulled off my shoe and began to unbandage.
"Well, sir, I don't want to look at your foot, and I have no patience with you.

Take him to the guard-house." Turning back I said, "Sir, aye, aye, you are clothed with a little brief authority, and appear to be presuming pretty heavy on that authority; but, sir"-- well I have forgotten what I did say.

The sergeant took me by the arm, and said, "Come, come, sir, I have my orders." As I was going up the street, I met Captain Dave Buckner, and told him all the circumstances of my arrest as briefly as I could.

He said, "Sergeant, bring him back with me to the provost marshal's office." They were as mad as wet hens.