As I stood listening the ground suddenly gave way with me and I went down a steep bank, to find the road sooner than I expected, and myself in the company of two Rebel soldiers and a broken down army wagon. I found out with a vengeance what had aroused me, and as is sometimes the case with investigators, learned more than was desirable.
The men had evidently been half asleep, when my abrupt appearance brought them to their feet.
A man has to think quickly in moments of danger. I took in the situation at a glance and in the same brief time decided to enter into conversation with them.
"What's up?" I asked.
"Broke down," replied the liveliest looking of the two, while both kept their muskets suggestively convenient and eyed me suspiciously.
The wagon was heavily loaded and the back axle-tree had broken in two, letting down the end. I looked it over because I had nothing better to do. One of the men volunteered the information that it was twice too much of a load.
"You don't expect to sit here with it all day, do you?" I asked, intending to offer to go ahead and find some one to help them right matters as an excuse to get away.
"No," said the man who had not spoken before. "Holly, 'es gone on thar an' 'ell bring back some of our squad to help."
As he spoke, faintly approaching sounds indicated that a "Holly" was coming back with assistance. There was no chance for me to leave and nothing better suggested itself than to act so that whoever came back would think I belonged there. I proposed to the men that we might as well see what we could do while we waited.
When a dingy officer and eight men appeared on the scene, we were all three busy inspecting the damage and no awkward questions were asked. So for a short space of time I served in the Confederate army,—at least I pulled at the wheel of a Confederate army wagon, with a great show of work and no real exertion.