Dr. Ambrose drew up my stool--I had taken a seat on the bed--and produced a roll of paper, pen, and small ink-well. His was the deliberation of a military mind provided with time and bent upon doing things well. The colonel stood before me, straight and stern. "What is your name?" he asked. "Arthur West," I replied. "This is the second answer to the same question." "Your home?" "City of New York, State of New York." "Your age?" "Twenty-seven." At every question and answer I heard the scratching of the doctor's industrious pen across the pad of the paper. Now, be it understood, I knew no law compelling me to answer these questions, but I thought it better to do so, and then I might see to what end the matter would come. I smiled a little: the colonel saw it at once. "No levity, sir!" he cried, fiercely. "You do not seem to be aware of your position?" Perhaps I was not; but I said nothing. "What were you doing within our lines in civilian's dress?" he asked. "Whose lines?" I replied. "I do not know what you mean." "The lines of Fort Defiance, the last stronghold of the Confederacy; which stronghold I have the honor to command," he replied, his ancient blue eyes lighting up with the fires of zeal. I laughed. "The Confederacy!" I said, in derision. "Why, the last stronghold of the Confederacy surrendered more than thirty years ago." "You lie, sir!" thundered the colonel, "and for the proof that you lie, look around you! The stars and bars still fly above this fort, and I and my men have never surrendered to the Yankees, nor ever will. For many hours now you have been on the soil of the Confederacy, and I, for the lack of higher authorities, am in supreme command, both civil and military.--Is not all that I say true, doctor? Is it not so, Crothers?" Crothers and the doctor bowed in a manner indicating deep belief. I saw that I was to receive neither help nor sympathy from them. "What is your occupation?" asked the colonel. "I do not see that it is any business of yours," I said; "but, as I am not ashamed of my profession, and you may have saved my life on the mountains, I've no objection to telling you. I'm an artist." At this modest announcement the colonel's face, to my surprise, became more threatening. Never did I see a man's expression more thoroughly betoken suspicion. "An artist?" he exclaimed. "You paint, you draw things?" "Some of the critics say I don't, but my friends say I do," I replied. He grumbled to himself and looked at me with angry, distrustful eyes. "What were you doing on these mountains?" he asked. "Why were you approaching Fort Defiance?" "I told you I was on a hunting-trip and lost myself," I said. "I hadn't the slightest idea I was approaching Fort Defiance. I never heard of the place before."