So it came about that I shared the hospitality of the Virginia gentleman's buggy, as we drove along the road that evening en route to General Beauregard's headquarters with a pleasant note of introduction from a Rebel officer in my pocket, in which was recited his belief that I had voluntarily entered the lines as a refugee.
We spent the night in that vicinity, at some neighbor's farmhouse.
When the old gentleman and I were again alone on the road, I began to work on his patriotism a little, but it was not exactly a success. His manner was not congenial at all. He had with him a fine English repeating rifle, which he placed between us, with the butt resting on the floor of the buggy, and, as we drove along that day, I had it in my mind for the first time in my life to commit a murder.
As we were slowly ascending one of the mountains, I remarked to the Colonel that I believed I'd walk up the mountain, stretch my legs, and relieve the horse for awhile, when he glanced at me and, with a hateful, overbearing sneer on his face, said:
"You wont get out of this buggy until I put you into General Beauregard's hands."
I felt a wicked sensation dart through me that I had never before experienced, and instinctively my own eyes rested on the gun; the Colonel saw my face, and reached for his gun not a moment too soon; my self-possession came to me, and I merely said:
"You're not driving a nigger now."
I still had my loaded pistol concealed in a belt under my clothes. I had acquired while in Texas the Southern accomplishment of learning its use, and was expert and quick enough to have put its contents in the blatant old fool's ear, and would probably have done so had I not been restrained by the fear that the report would bring about us a crowd of Rebels.
For an hour after this incident we drove along in sullen silence. I felt in my soul that I was being driven like a condemned criminal to the gallows, and this old Colonel was merely my hangman, whom I ought to shoot like a rat.
After cool reflection I concluded that, with the officer's note in my possession, I would be able to counteract any unfavorable impressions he might try to make. I had not attempted to commit any act in Virginia that he could prove which would operate against me. The only matter I had to fear was the discovery of my identity as the person who had played the spy in Florida; but as that was many hundred miles away, I felt that I was comparatively safe.