A fire before the door dimly lighted the room; and the scene as the men dropped gradually to sleep has stamped itself upon my memory like a picture of war painted by Rembrandt. I had taken care to place myself between M‘Cauley and Brown, and the moment the rebels began to snore and the sentry to nod over his pipe, we were in earnest and deep conversation. M‘Cauley proposed to warn the others and make a simultaneous rush for the carbines, and take our chances of stampeding the guard and escaping. But on passing the word in a whisper along our line, only three men were found willing to join us. As the odds were so largely against us, it was in vain to urge the subject. The march began at an early hour the next morning, and the route ran directly up the Blue Ridge. We had emerged from the forest and ascended about one-third of the height of the mountain, when the full valley became visible, spread out like a map before us, showing plainly the lines of our army, its routes of supply, its foraging parties out, and my own camp at Front Royal as distinctly as if we stood in one of its streets. We now struck a wood-path running southward and parallel with the ridge of the mountains, along which we travelled for hours, with this wonderful panorama of forest and river, mountain and plain before us in all the gorgeous beauty of the early autumn. “This is a favorite promenade of mine,” said Mosby. “I love to see your people sending out their almost daily raids after me. There comes one of them now almost towards us. If you please, we will step behind the point and see them pass. It may be the last sight you will have of your old friends for some time,” and, looking in the direction he pointed, I saw a squadron of my own regiment coming directly towards us on a road running under the foot of the mountain, and apparently on some foraging expedition down the valley. They passed within a half-mile of us, under the mountain, while Mosby stood with folded arms on a rock above them. Before noon we reached the road running through Manassas Gap, which was held by about one hundred of Mosby’s men, who signalled him as he approached, and here, much to my regret, the great guerilla left us, bidding me a kindly good-bye. We were hurried through the gap and down the eastern side of the Blue Ridge, and by three o’clock reached Chester Gap, after passing which we descended into the valley and moved rapidly towards Sperryville on the direct line to Richmond. III As we were far within the Confederate lines, our guard was reduced to Lieutenant Whiting and three men, and our party of eleven prisoners had seven horses among them. There was also a pack-horse carrying our forage, rations, and some blankets. To the saddle of this pack-horse were strapped two Spencer carbines, muzzle downward, with their accoutrements complete, including two well-filled cartridge-boxes.