"What is the matter, colonel? Do you feel worse?"
He took his hands away, and his face was like that of a dead man.
"Not worse in body, Mr. West," he replied, "but worse, much worse, in mind. I have failed in everything, and through the treachery of my own people. You have corrupted them all. Even my own daughter has turned against me. I am going to Fort Defiance, which was our last stronghold, a prisoner."
"Colonel," said I, "what are you thinking about? What are you dreaming of? You a prisoner! Fort Defiance betrayed! Look yonder!"
We were near the fort now, and I pointed to the Confederate flag, that waved over it, folding and unfolding in the clear frosty breeze. The colonel looked, and his face changed in a moment from death to life. The blood flowed into his cheeks; his eyes sparkled like a soldier's eager for battle.
"Why, what does that mean?" he exclaimed.
"Mean?" I said. "It means that you've been dreaming, or you wouldn't talk about being betrayed, a prisoner. What made you rush off in such haste? Dr. Ambrose's suggestion of surrender was a sudden thought, of which he has repented. Fort Defiance is as loyal to you as ever. You are its absolute commander. I am the prisoner, not you."
Dr. Ambrose had been walking by the litter. The colonel beckoned to him.
"Is this so, Dr. Ambrose?" he asked. "Is what Mr. West tells me true? Am I still master of my own?"