Probably an officer later promoted to rank prominent enough to have his picture in one of the minor narratives. Yet I was certain his face was no likeness I’d seen once in a steel engraving and dismissed. These were features often encountered.... “Sure like to have them boots. If we aint fightin for Yankee boots, what the hell we fightin for?” What could I say? That I’d been in the orchard for half an hour? The next question was bound to be, Had I seen Federal troops? Whichever way I answered I would be betraying my role of spectator. “Hey Capn—this fella knows something. Lookit the silly grin!” Was I smiling? In what? Terror? Perplexity? In the mere effort of keeping silent, so as to be involved no further? “Tell yah—he’s laughin cuz he knows somethin!” Let them hang me, let them strip me of my boots; from here on I was dumb as dear Catty had been once. “Out with it man—youre in a tight spot. Are there Yanks up ahead?” The confusion in my mind approached chaos. If I knew the captain’s eventual rank I could place him. Colonel Soandso. Brigadier-General Blank. What had happened? Why had I let myself be discovered? Why had I spoken at all and made silence so hard now? “Yanks up ahead—they’s Yanks up ahead!” “Quiet you! I asked him—he didnt say there were Yanks ahead.” “Hay! Damyanks up above. Goin to mow us down!” “Fella says the bluebellies are layin fur us!” Had the lie been in my mind, to be telepathically plucked by the excited soldiers? Was even silence no refuge from participation? “Man here spotted the whole Fed artillery up above, trained on us!” “Pull back, boys! Pull back!” I’d read often enough of the epidemic quality of a perfectly unreasonable notion. A misunderstood word, a baseless rumor, an impossible report, was often enough to set a group of armed men—squad or army—into senseless mob action. Sometimes the infection made for feats of heroism, sometimes for panic. This was certainly less than panic, but my nervous, meaningless smile conveyed a message I had never sent. “It’s a trap. Pull back boys—let’s get away from these trees and out where we can see the Yanks!” The captain whirled on his men. “Here, damn you,” he shouted furiously, “you all gone crazy? The man said nothing. There’s no trap!” The men moved slowly, sullenly away. “I heard him,” one of them muttered, looking accusingly toward me. The captain’s shout became a yell. “Come back here! Back here, I say!” His raging stride overtook the still irresolute men. He grabbed the one called Jenks by the shoulder and whirled him about. Jenks tried to jerk free. There was fear on his face, and hate. “Leave me go, damn you,” he screamed, “Leave me go!”