We sat again in the great drawing-room at Fort Defiance. The military appearance of the apartment was unchanged. The portraits of the Confederate generals looked from wall to wall at each other. The bright sun, reflected from the snow outside, gleamed on the burnished arms. At the head of the table sat the colonel, in his most brilliant uniform, stiff and precise as a judge should be. Dr. Ambrose at the side of the table took their statements in writing, and six men in Confederate gray, Crothers at their head, listened attentively to the evidence.
Thus my second trial on the charge of being a Yankee spy, appealed on a writ of error from the first, drew to its end.
Miss Hetherill sat beside the window. Streaks of dim gold showed in her dark hair where the winter sunshine fell across it. When her eyes met mine a bit of a smile appeared in them, and the delicate color in her cheeks deepened.
The last evidence was given, and the colonel directed the military jury to retire to the next room and consider a verdict. When they had gone we waited in silence. The snow-birds hopped about outside. One of them perched on the window-sill and stared at us through the glass for a moment. Then he flew away. The snow on the knife-edge of the distant mountain ridges shone like gold under the sun.
The jury returned, Crothers at their head.
"What is your verdict, gentlemen?" asked the colonel.
"Not guilty," replied Crothers. "It is our unanimous decision."
"I am glad of it," said the colonel. "It is my opinion too. Mr. West, my congratulations and sympathy as from one honest enemy to another."
He reached over and gave my hand a strong and friendly grasp.