"I'll get there in a moment, Captain. You see I am getting old and long-winded. I used to stump the State during election time, but I'm getting so tiresome now nobody will listen to me." "I am listening, Colonel. But I have a duty to perform which must be accomplished as soon as possible." "I reckon I need not ask what it is. It's none of my business, of course not." "What were you going to ask me concerning our regiment?" asked Artie, half desperately, for he was afraid the crippled colonel would keep him there all day. "I wanted to ask you if your command did not take part in an engagement at Greeger Lake, last fall?" "We did." "What was the result of that engagement?" "We took about five hundred guerillas prisoners, and--" "Guerillas! Do you dare to call our troops--Oh! pshaw, go on,--what did you do?" "We took about five hundred guerillas prisoners, and to keep them from eating up our rations, marched them back into Tennessee, where they belonged." "And confiscated their horses and their money?" "No, we turned their horses loose; that was all. I never heard anything about any money," answered Artie, promptly. He tried to appear at ease, but he was much worried. The veteran of the Mexican War was turning out to be a strong Southern sympathizer. It looked as if there might be trouble before he left the house. "I understand some of the soldiers had their money taken from them. But that was to be expected of the Yankees--they don't know what honor is." "Colonel Bradner, I did not come here to be insulted!" exclaimed Artie, leaping to his feet. "I have answered your questions, now I would like you to answer mine. What about this road in front of your house? Is it the main road, or is it not?" "It is the main road--to my plantation." "Then the other road is the main road?" "Yes." "That is all I wish to know, and I'll bid you good afternoon," replied the young captain, and backed toward the hallway door. "You're not going just yet, are you?" asked Colonel Bradner, with a quizzical tone in his voice. "I am," said Artie, and not liking that tone, he swung around, to find himself confronted by Mrs. Bradner and two burly negroes, each of the latter with a gun in his hands. "Up with your hands, Captain, or Joe and Sam will blow off your head," commanded the cripple, and drew at the same time a pistol from his hip pocket. The pistol was pointed at Artie's breast, while each of the guns was aimed at the side of his head. Artie was brave, and in some instances as rash as Deck; but there were times when he kept his head cool, and this was one of these times. He had both pistol and sabre in his belt, but he knew that the slightest movement to use either of the weapons would mean to him either serious injury or death. And he was just then of a mind to keep his skin whole. "Do you surrender?" demanded Colonel Bradner, after a painful pause, during which Artie had been doing a powerful lot of thinking.