He was disposed to be skeptical, and I write down here Captain Latrobe's exact words, spoken to me that morning in answer to my earnest appeal to be permitted to join the company at the Gap:
"Well, Wilmore, you are no use here, and I don't believe you will be up there, but I'll see what I can do with you."
He turned to leave, directing that I should "hold on here a while," as he limped off toward General Ledbetter's headquarters. I felt sure that he had gone there to consult with his superior officer about some disposition of myself; and I strongly suspected that the hinted-at requisition for me from Richmond had come through the military channels.
Perhaps the reader may be able to imagine my thoughts and fears, or share my feelings for the few moments that I sat on the edge of the porch of the old log house that morning, waiting for the verdict, as it were. I rather incline to the belief though, that it is only those who have been under a sentence of death, or who are awaiting the result of a last appeal for a pardon, who will be competent to sympathize with me, or one who has been in such a plight.
I was a long way from home, all alone—in a strange, I might say, a foreign land—among enemies; at liberty, but really with a rope around my neck; a single misstep, or word, a chance recognition, was all that was needed to spring the trap, and my career was ended ingloriously right there.
I was filled, too, on this bright and beautiful morning with the bright hope and prospect of soon getting home; in fact, I was starting out homeward bound at this time; my reaching there depended in one sense upon the will of this Captain, who could have put me in arrest and confinement and, at least, have delayed my chances, or he could give me the orders, that would admit of my easy escape.
The moments seemed like hours until the Captain made his appearance at the log-cabin door, where he stood for a few moments talking to an officer on General Ledbetter's staff. I felt sure that I was the subject of their conversation, but like most persons who feel this way when their consciences trouble them, I was mistaken.
Coming up to me, the Captain said, in a cheerful tone, as compared with the first remark to me:
"Corporal, could you find the Gap, if we—" so eager and thankful was I, I abruptly interrupted him to say: "Oh yes, I can easily do that."
"Well, it's forty miles from here, over a most God-forsaken mountain path."