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 guerrilla," and ordered me to be taken to the provost marshal's office.

They carried me to a large, fine house, upstairs, and I was politely requested to take a seat.

I sat there some moments, when a dandy-looking clerk of a fellow came up with a book in his hand, and said, "The name." I appeared not to understand, and he said, "The name." I still looked at him, and he said, "The name." I did not know what he meant by "The name." Finally, he closed the book with a slam and started off, and said I, "Did you want to find out my name ?" He said, "I asked you three times." I said, "When?
If you ever asked me my name, I have never heard it." But he was too mad to listen to anything else.

I was carried to another room in the same building, and locked up.