"Colonel," said I, as we entered his office, "here is the old, gray-headed devil that said to the rebel Colonel, 'Kill the Yankee spy;' and I have brought him in for you to dispose of." "Bunker," said the Colonel, "a'n't you mistaken?" "No, I a'n't! I know him, and I found him standing in the very place where he tried to have me shot!" Then turning to the old man, I said: "Didn't you tell the rebel Colonel that I was a Yankee spy, and try to have him shoot me? _Tell me the truth, or I'll kill you right here!_" "Ye--yes, I--believe I--d-do--recollect it now." "_You old whelp! you deserve to be shot!_" said the Colonel. "Here I have been guarding your house, and guarding your mules, and boarding with you; and you representing yourself to have _always been a Union man, and the oath in your pocket that you took last summer_!" Then turning to me, he said: "Bunker, I'll dispose of him as he ought to be." "Thank you, Colonel, I wish you would." The next morning the guards were removed from the old man's premises, and he was put aboard the cars, in irons, destined to go North. A day or two afterward I happened to be passing by where a number of rebel prisoners were confined, and there I saw the sutler of the 2d Arkansas Cavalry (the regiment that I run with so long). The sutler knew me, and motioned to me to come in; so I got permission of the officer in charge to go in and see him. He still supposed that I was secesh. "Ruggles," said he, "I am here under arrest as a guerrilla. Now, you know that I am _no guerrilla_, but a regularly authorized sutler in the 2d Arkansas Cavalry. I wish you would see the commander of the post and explain that fact to him, so that I may be treated as a prisoner of war, and not as an outlaw." "Well, I will tell him what I know about it. Perhaps he will recognize you as a prisoner of war." "Thank you! Do what you can for me. But, between you and I, (speaking confidentially,) I quit sutlering and joined a band of guerrillas, because I thought that I could make more money at it. It was all bad management that we got captured." Just then another prisoner came up, and, taking me by the hand, said, "Don't you know me?" "No, I don't remember you, as I know of." "Do you remember of seeing three men at the spring, three miles east of Somerville, last summer, when you was riding by, and of offering them some rum to drink?" "Oh, yes! I do recollect it now." "Well, I am the man that drank with you, and the other two are here." "Are they?" "Yes. Now, you know that we are only citizens, and that we don't belong to any guerrilla band." "Of course I do! You are no guerrillas!" "If you please, I want to have you go and see the commanding officer, and tell him that we are not guerrillas, but _peaceable, quiet citizens_." "Certainly, boys! I'll help you out of this, if I can?"