I was rejoiced to hear this, and at once told the officer that my comrade, like myself, had intended to come into their army, but he was scared and ran because he thought they were our own scouts.
"Are you both Yankee soldiers?"
I repulsed the base insinuation with scorn, and told him we were both dying to join the Rebel Army.
"But that fellow has on the blue uniform."
Sure enough, I had forgotten all about that, but told him that was no difference—that half the men in Banks' Army were only waiting a favorable chance to come over and join them. The officer, who was a conceited fellow, who had been placed in charge of the pickets or cavalry scouts on this outpost for the day, eagerly swallowed this stuff. It will be remembered that at this time—only a week after their victory at Bull Run—the Rebels were prepared to believe almost anything reported to them from our side and were, of course, somewhat lax in their scrutiny of refugees, who were actually going over the line daily to unite their fortunes with those of the South, whom they were sure after the first battle must be victorious.
We had quite a pleasant talk as we stood together by the roadside awaiting the result of the chase of my comrade. It was explained by the officer that their instructions were not to fire except in certain emergencies; the object of their being there was to quietly observe the operations of the Yankees from their points of lookout on the heights, from which a full view of everything transpiring on our side was to be had.
This was an item of news from the Rebel officer which I should like General Banks to have been advised of. He further astonished me by saying:
"We have been watching you two fellows all the afternoon; we saw you cross the river, and when you came up the hill our men up there came in and reported that you were two scouts, and could be captured, so I was sent down here to gather you in."
I was able to force what I am afraid was rather a sickly laugh at this exhibition of our "prowess," and, as a further earnest of our good intentions, I volunteered to accompany the officer down the road, with a view of meeting my running comrade and signaling him it would be all right to come in.
Accepting this service, we walked rapidly together in the direction taken by the two men with guns, but as all three had stopped to hear my story, my chum had probably been making good time along his side of the fence, which, with the undergrowth, had served to keep him out of sight, and had stretched the distance between him and the Rebels, but, as the river was still to ford, I feared, for my own safety, that he might yet be captured.