Clinton had been engaged with me in our tunneling enterprise at Macon, and was one of my most intimate friends. He had been exchanged but a short time before we left Charleston.
In a few moments I heard him speak to the Orderly in an excited voice: "Get out of the way and let me in! I'll bet it's Captain Kellogg!"
Almost at the same moment he opened the door. I stood facing him as he entered.
"I told you it was him! It's Kellogg! It's Kellogg!"
By this time we were in each other's arms, both of us sobbing like children. Then leaving me, he first caught Spencer and then Hatcher.
"There—there!" broke in Colonel Lampson; "you appear to know these men."
"Know them? I should rather think I did. Know them? Didn't Kellogg and I dig tunnels together? Didn't we starve together in Rebel prisons? I should rather think I do know them!"
"Well, then, take them and take care of them," said the old Colonel, swallowing hard and trying to keep his eyes from overflowing. "I beg your pardon, gentlemen," he said, turning to us; "but we have been imposed upon so often, and"—here his voice became thick and husky. Turning savagely to Clinton, he exclaimed: "Take them, I tell you, and, d—— you! feed them well, and see that they have some decent clothes. God bless my soul! I—I like to have sent them to the guard house!"
Under the guidance of Captain Clinton, we left the quarters of the Colonel, men once more.
"Out of the jaws of death,