“Glad to get off so easily,” I muttered to myself, as I withdrew. “I really did begin to get a little scared; but it’s all right now. I believe I’ll go and write a letter or two.” Now, there was at the hospital, acting as sergeant of the guard, a contemptible little fellow named Kinsley, who had never been wounded, and probably had never seen any active service. I do not remember what regiment he belonged to. He was very fond of displaying his sergeant’s stripes, paper collar, and delicate little mustache. I had not been in my ward long, when this pompous little fellow came in with a _key_ in his hand, approached me and said: “Come and go with me, Smith.” Observing the key, I at first supposed that new quarters had been assigned me—in truth, I was nearly right—and I arose and followed him. He led the way up one flight of stairs, then another, then another. We had not quite reached the fourth story when the horrible truth suddenly flashed upon me. _I was to be put in the guard-house_—yes, the GUARD-HOUSE! “Sergeant,” said I, pausing on the stairs, “I half believe that you contemplate locking me up.” “So I am ordered,” he replied. “I’ve considered the matter,” I continued, coolly, “and have come to the conclusion not to go.” “But you’ve got to go,” said he. “There’s no use in——” “No, I really don’t think I’ll go: not right away, anyhow,” I said, coolly; and I turned about and began to descend the stairs. He quickly followed me, and roughly seized one of my arms. Letting my crutches fall, I turned impetuously upon him, and with all the fire of assailed dignity, seized the foppish little sergeant by both arms, and hurled him down the stairs with all my might. I tumbled down after him, however, for I had not then such command of my equilibrium as I have since acquired, and we landed at the foot of the stairs all in a heap. I was up first, and snatching up one of my crutches for a weapon, I stood with my back to the wall, and proposed to “split his skull” if he should dare to approach. He did not dare, however, but with a savage oath for so small a man, he picked himself up and ran down the other two flights of stairs. I deliberately followed. I was half-way down the last flight, when the Doctor and two guards, armed with musket and bayonet, appeared in the hall. “Doctor,” said I, “did you order me to be put in the guard-house?” “Yes,” he replied, frankly. “You have no right to do it,” I said, with some force. “I am a sergeant, and cannot, without a trial, be confined in a guard-house.” “But you can,” he retorted, “if there are men enough here to carry you up. Go, boys, and put him in No. 41.” The two guards came up to me, and one of them said: “Come, now, you see we are ordered to do it. We don’t like to, but——” “I will go with _you_,” said I, “for I know you are a soldier; but if that dandified little sergeant comes within reach of me, I will break his head!”