This was my own idea; but still, I seemed intuitively to feel that all was not right. These men evidently saw or heard us, for, turning their horses’ heads toward camp, they marched slowly onward. This at once disarmed me of all doubt, for I knew camp was near, and if they were not ‘all right,’ they would hardly venture that way; so I resumed my canter, and soon overtook my fellow-travellers. When I approached, they filed to each side of the road, as if to let me pass, and I kept on. But no sooner was my orderly and myself past their last file of men, than in an instant we found ourselves confronted by half-a-dozen pistols and the sharp command, ‘Halt!’ (A sixth man had come out of the bush.) ‘Now, you Yanks want to keep your mouths shut, and do as you are told, or it will be all up with you,’ said the commander. ‘Forward—trot—march!’ and away we swept at a swinging trot, Leonard and I completely surrounded by this unwelcome bodyguard, and well covered by their pistols. About a thousand yards we trotted on, and then swept into a narrow road, more bridle-path than road, along which we kept for a mile or so, when the command ‘Halt!’ was again given. Leonard and I were ordered to dismount and give up our arms. I had none; but my orderly was soon deprived of his. We were again put upon our horses and strapped to the saddles in not too gentle a manner. I ventured to ask where we were going to and who my captors were; and was told we were being taken to Mosby’s camp by some of his men; and furthermore, I was ordered to keep absolute silence on pain of death. From this I inferred that we had to pass very near some portion of our own camp or pickets, and for a moment I hoped some chance might yet arise for escape. But during the march we saw no soldier, or even camp-fire, and this road seemed specially devised to allow free passage from the front to the rear of our lines by any person who knew it. In about an hour or so we came once more upon the highway. Night had fallen, but a young moon partially illuminated the road.