Chapter 8

Delcarte and Taylor were now in mid-stream, coming toward

us, and I called to them to keep aloof until I knew whether

the intentions of my captors were friendly or otherwise. My

good men wanted to come on and annihilate the blacks. But

there were upward of a hundred of the latter, all well

armed, and so I commanded Delcarte to keep out of harm's

way, and stay where he was till I needed him.

A young officer called and beckoned to them. But they

refused to come, and so he gave orders that resulted in my

hands being secured at my back, after which the company

marched away, straight toward the east.

I noticed that the men wore spurs, which seemed strange to

me. But when, late in the afternoon, we arrived at their

encampment, I discovered that my captors were cavalrymen.

In the center of a plain stood a log fort, with a block-

house at each of its four corners. As we approached, I saw

a herd of cavalry horses grazing under guard outside the

walls of the post. They were small, stocky horses, but the

telltale saddle galls proclaimed their calling. The flag

flying from a tall staff inside the palisade was one which I

had never before seen nor heard of.

We marched directly into the compound, where the company was

dismissed, with the exception of a guard of four privates,

who escorted me in the wake of the young officer. The

latter led us across a small parade ground, where a battery

of light field guns was parked, and toward a log building,

in front of which rose the flagstaff.

I was escorted within the building into the presence of an

old negro, a fine looking man, with a dignified and military

bearing. He was a colonel, I was to learn later, and to him

I owe the very humane treatment that was accorded me while I

remained his prisoner.

He listened to the report of his junior, and then turned to

question me, but with no better results than the former had