My gold hunting-watch and chain, several rings, a set of shirt-studs and sleeve-buttons, a Masonic pin, some coins, and about three hundred dollars in greenbacks, with some letters and pictures of the dear ones at home, and a small pocket Bible, were taken. My cavalry-boots, worth about fifteen dollars, were apprised at six hundred and fifty in Confederate money; my watch at three thousand dollars, and the other articles in about the same proportion, including my poor servant “Wash,” who was put in and raffled for at two thousand dollars, so that my entire outfit made quite a respectable prize. “Wash” was very indignant that he should be thought worth only two thousand dollars, Confederate money, and informed them that he considered himself unappreciated, and that, among other accomplishments, he could make the best milk-punch of any man in the Confederacy. When all this was concluded, Mosby took me a little one side and returned to me the pocket Bible, the letters and pictures, and the Masonic pin, saying quietly as he did so, alluding to the latter with a significant sign: “You may as well keep this. It may be of use to you somewhere.” I thanked him warmly for his kindness as I took his offered hand, and really began to think Mosby almost a gentleman and a soldier, although he had just robbed me in the most approved manner of modern highwaymen. Immediate preparations were made for the long road to Richmond and Libby Prison. A guard of fifteen men, in command of Lieutenant Whiting, was detailed as our escort, and, accompanied by Mosby himself, we started directly across the country, regardless of roads, in an easterly direction towards the Shenandoah and the Blue Ridge. We were now in company of nine more of our men, who had been taken at different times, making eleven of our party in all, besides the indignant contraband “Wash,” whom it was thought prudent also to send to the rear for safe-keeping. I had determined to escape if even half an opportunity should present itself, and the boys were quick in understanding my purpose, and intimating their readiness to risk their lives in the attempt. One of them in particular, George W. M‘Cauley, commonly known as Mack, and another one named Brown, afterwards proved themselves heroes. At Howettsville on the Shenandoah, nine miles below Front Royal, we bivouacked for the night in an old school-house. Our party of eleven were assigned to one side of the lower floor of the school-house, where we lay down side by side with our heads to the wall and our feet nearly meeting the feet of the guard, who lay in the same manner opposite us, with their heads to the other wall, except three, who formed a relief guard for the sentry’s post at the door. Above the head of the guard along the wall ran a low desk, on which each man of them placed his carbine and revolver before disposing himself for sleep.