"You, sir," he said, addressing me, "who call yourself Arthur West, of New York City, with what truth we know not, are accused of entering the military lines of the Confederacy in civilian's attire for the purpose of spying upon our fortifications, armaments, and other military supplies, and of delivering such information as you might obtain to the enemy. Is not that true, sir?"
"The war is over, colonel," I said. "The Confederacy perished more than thirty years ago."
"You speak falsely, sir," he said, with some fierceness. "The war is not over, and the Confederacy has not perished. See its flag over your head. I hold my commission from President Jefferson Davis himself, and certainly I have not laid down my arms."
I smiled a little, whistled a bar or two, and gazed at the ceiling. The colonel looked deeply annoyed at my carelessness.
"Be careful, Mr. West," he said. "You are not helping your case by your conduct."
"Colonel," I said, "come to see me in New York, and I'll show you the town."
"Enough of such levity," he cried. "Will you or will you not plead to the charge?"
"Colonel," I said, "it is the 18th of November, 1896, and a very fine afternoon."
"I have warned you once already that you are prejudicing your own case," he cried.