The reply came in that piercing treble shriek in which a boy of ten or twelve makes even his most confidential communications:
“I don't know.”
“Well,” (with our confidence in exchange somewhat dashed,) “they intend to exchange us here, don't they?”
Another falsetto scream, “I don't know.”
“Well,” (with something of a quaver in the questioner's voice,) “what are they going to do, with us, any way?”
“O,” (the treble shriek became almost demoniac) “they are fixing up a place over by the old jail for you.”
What a sinking of hearts was there then! Andrews and I would not give up hope so speedily as some others did, and resolved to believe, for awhile at least, that we were going to be exchanged.
Ordered out of the cars, we were marched along the street. A crowd of small boys, full of the curiosity of the animal, gathered around us as we marched. Suddenly a door in a rather nice house opened; an angry-faced woman appeared on the steps and shouted out:
“Boys! BOYS! What are you doin' there! Come up on the steps immejitely! Come away from them n-a-s-t-y things!”
I will admit that we were not prepossessing in appearance; nor were we as cleanly as young gentlemen should habitually be; in fact, I may as well confess that I would not now, if I could help it, allow a tramp, as dilapidated in raiment, as unwashed, unshorn, uncombed, and populous with insects as we were, to come within several rods of me. Nevertheless, it was not pleasant to hear so accurate a description of our personal appearance sent forth on the wings of the wind by a shrill-voiced Rebel female.