“What is all this?” asked a stately-looking officer, who had just approached, and before whom all the rest fell back. “A spy, General,” was the response. “Why was he not brought to _my_ quarters?” “Because Raines ordered a drumhead court-martial.” “Release the man until I have conversed with him.” Nettleton was released, and, as he descended from the scaffolding, he was recognized by General Price. “We have met before?” asked Price. “Yes, General, we have,” was the prompt reply of Nettleton. “What were you doing in my camp the _first_ time we met?” “Serving my captain, whom I love.” “Good! What are you doing here now?” “That will require considerable explanation,” added Nettleton. “Go on,” said Price. “Well, General, some darn skunk _murdered_ my captain, and when our troops left Grand Prairie, on their return to Springfield, I remained behind to search for his body. I am _no_ spy.” “But you said you were a spy, serving General Price,” replied one of the soldiers who had brought Nettleton to the rebel camp. “How can you explain this?” asked Price. “Well, ye see, General, Miss Sally—no, I mean Miss Mamie—that’s the captain’s sister—will break her poor heart and die of grief if she can’t learn something about her brother. Them darn skunks as arrested me told me that Captain Hayward was _not_ killed. Besides this, as nice a darn sk— I mean as good a man as ever lived, and one who loves Miss Sally—no—that Miss Sally keeps running in my head—one as loves Miss Mamie, is accused of murdering the captain. But I know better, for I found proof enough to convict the right one. I wanted to tell Mamie that Sally—darn Sally—that her brother was _not_ dead, and to clear Lieutenant Wells and convict the one as did the deed. So I told them sneaks as how I _was_ a spy, in hopes they’d let me alone.” “Would you give any information you may have gleaned here, if I should set you free?” “I ain’t no such darn skunk, General. Honor is honor bright with me.” “What have you seen here?” “A lot of the darndest sapheads I ever met.” “If I should set you free, will you fight against me?” “Like the devil, the first time we meet in fair play.” “Why do you wear that gray suit under your uniform?” “Because captain’s always getting himself into some scrape, and I have to hunt him up. Sometimes I have to go among the Johnnies to do it, and then the blue ain’t healthy.” “Will you ever act as spy upon me if I let you go?” “Not unless capt’n does. But I’m his body-guard, and shall go everywhere he does, if I can.” “What is your name?” “William Nettleton.” “Well, William, I think we shall be obliged to hang you.” “All right, General,” answered Nettleton, stepping upon the scaffolding again. “And them darn sneaks shan’t say they never see’d a Yankee die bravely. But, General, let me ask of you one favor. You don’t want to see a good fellow shot for what he didn’t do, and a murderer go clear, do you?” “Certainly not.”