The commander, a lieutenant of these free riders, reined his horse to my side, and said we had passed the Yankee lines, and I could now speak if I chose. I merely said the straps hurt me which bound me to the saddle. We halted, and Leonard and I were untied, with a caution that any attempt to escape would only end in our death. Two of the guerrillas still led our horses, and the commander gave the order to gallop. We moved rapidly, until about eight P.M. For some time we had been ascending, and then slackening our pace a little. Suddenly, before and below us, upon a plain of no great extent, I saw a camp of from five to six hundred men. ‘Here we are,’ said the lieutenant; and in a very short time Leonard and I found ourselves under strong guard in the headquarters of Colonel Mosby at Rectortown. Under the same guard were some score more of ‘Yankee’ prisoners. Supper being over, we were given a little cold ‘hoe’-cake and the run of a pail of water for our share. I found that some of these my fellow-prisoners were infantry-men; and one lad of about fourteen was a drummer of infantry. The majority, however, were cavalry-men caught wandering too far from their commands. Apparently, I was the only commissioned officer; but as I wore a private’s overcoat, my rank was not known to my fellow-prisoners for some time. The sentinels about us paced their beats; some of the men were asleep, and I was sitting on a log smoking, when, by the dim light of the fire, I saw a mounted figure approach. The figure halted at the guard; and presently the sergeant in charge called out: ‘Fall in—fall in, you Yankees. Hurry up. Get into line there.’ Finally, all being awake and placed to suit him, he turned, and saluting the horseman, said: ‘The prisoners are paraded, sir.’ ‘How many have you?’ asked the rider.—‘Twenty-two in all, sir.’ And then I felt we were in the presence of that terror of the valley, Colonel John S. Mosby, the best provost-marshal Sheridan had in the Shenandoah. As Mosby advanced nearer to the camp-fire, I was struck with the lack of daring in his face and manner; but I knew he had it, from his past career. His manner was not ferocious or tyrannical, and he quietly turned upon us his eye, which seemed to see the whole of us at a glance. He spoke as follows: ‘Men, your commander has seen fit to refuse all quarter to my soldiers when captured, and hangs or shoots them on the spot. I do not approve of this kind of warfare; but I must retaliate; and as I capture two of your army to every one you get of my command, that is not difficult. Just now, the balance is against you, and five of you twenty-two prisoners must die.’ You may imagine all were wide awake at this announcement.