The young man made one more desperate struggle to free himself, but the twine only cut into his flesh, making the matter worse, so he finally submitted to his fate, and suffered Bill to take him where he listed. Bill was in no hurry to get to camp. He rather enjoyed being alone with his prisoner, and leading him to a little thicket he made him sit down, and placing one of his feet upon him he began to ask him innumerable questions,—what was his name, where did he come from, what company was he in, and so on, to none of which did the stranger vouchsafe a reply. With a haughty look upon his handsome face, he maintained a rigid silence, while Bill continued: “Needn’t talk unless you want to. Speech is free with us, you know; but seein’ you won’t tell who you be, maybe you wouldn’t mind hearing my geneology. It’ll make you feel better, mabby, to know my reputation and standin’ in society. Corporal, did you ever hear of a _Yankee_, a real live mudsill Yankee, such as Southern gentlemen feel above fightin’ with? Wall, I’m that critter. What do you think of me, take me as a hull?” The stranger groaned in disgust, and Bill continued: “Them cords hurt you, I guess. Like enough I’ll ease ’em up a trifle, if you say so. I ain’t hard-hearted, if I be rough as a nutmeg-grater. Shall I loosen ’em so’s not to hurt them soft, baby hands of yourn?” “Thank you, sir. I don’t mind it in the least,” was the soldier’s answer, though all the while the coarse twine was cutting cruelly into the tender flesh. This Bill suspected, and muttering to himself: “Good grit, if he is a Rebel,” he went on: “Considerable top-lofty, ain’t you, corporal? And as chaps of your cloth like to meet with their equals, I’ll go on with my history. I was born in Massachusetts, not over a day’s ride from Boston. Ever been to Boston?” No answer from the stranger, save a heightened color, and Bill proceeded: “Tall old town. Got a smashin’ monument out to Charlestown. Heard on’t I s’pose, as I take it some of you Southern dogs can read. Wall, father died in State’s Prison down there to Charlestown, and then we moved to Rockland, the old woman, Hal and me. Hal’s lyin’ up there where the hottest of the fight took place, and I’m here tormentin’ you by tellin’ you my character. I’ve been to the workhouse twice,—I have, I swan,—once for gettin’ drunk, and once for somethin’ else a good deal wus. How do you feel now?” and Bill leered wickedly at the young man, who seemed bent on keeping silence.