The hill projected farther toward the southwest than in any other direction, and in my wanderings I came to that point. Looking back, I obtained a sweeping view of Fort Defiance, with its sloping roofs and sombre-hued walls. At one angle the vines had grown up and clung against the wall. It was such a place as I would like to tell about when I returned to my friends, and, what was better, I could show it to them in its real and exact proportions. I had a pencil and some good white cardboard in an inside pocket.

I found a good seat on a stone, made ready with board and pencil, and began to study the fort. It was a fine subject for an artist, and as I sketched the rough outlines my enthusiasm grew. I had a brilliant light, which brought out every curve and angle of the queer building. Gradually, in my absorption as the picture spread over the cardboard, I forgot everything else. I was just putting in the little brass cannon that commanded the approach to the fort, when pencil and picture were snatched violently from my hands. I sprang up, full of wrath.

The old colonel stood before me, his face red, and his eyes flashing with indignation.

"You villain of a spy! You damned Yankee!" he cried.

"What do you mean? Are you crazy?" I asked. I did not take kindly to such names, even from the mouth of an old man.

He was in a great rage, for his next words choked him. But he got them out at last.

"You an innocent hunter!" he cried. "And you were lost in the mountains! That's a pretty tale! I suspected you from the first, you infernal Yankee spy, and now I have the proof."

I was really afraid the old man would fall down in a fit, and I began to feel more sorrow than anger.

"If you'll explain I'm ready to listen," I said, resuming my seat on the big stone, "and when you're through explaining I'll thank you to give me back my pencil and sketch."

He seemed to feel the necessity of self-control, though I could see his anger was not diminishing.

"You claimed to be a hunter lost in the mountains," he repeated, "when, in fact, you are a Yankee spy sent here upon your miserable business into the last stronghold of the Confederacy."

I laughed loud and long. I know I ought not to have done so, but I could not help it. The blood rose higher in his cheeks, and his lips trembled, but he had himself under firm control at last.

"I'm a spy upon you, am I?" I asked, "Where's the proof?"

"Here it is," he said, holding up my pencil and sketch of the fort,—a poor enough sketch, too. "At the intercession of my daughter, I have been treating you this morning as a prisoner of war, ready for exchange or parole, and your first use of this hospitality is to draw for the Yankee government sketches and maps of my fortifications."

"I did not intend to take that sketch to Washington," I protested, mildly.

"It is quite certain that you will never do so," he said, putting sketch and pencil in his pocket. "I have other uses for these. Come with me."

"Suppose I decline," I said. I was growing a little obstinate. Moreover, I was tired of being hacked about.

He blew a little thing like a policeman's whistle: three or four men in Confederate uniform came out of the fort or the little outhouses.

"We will see whether you will come," said the colonel, as the men approached. I have an objection to bruises and undignified struggles; so I concluded to go.

"If you will kindly lead," I said, "I'll follow." I am happy to say that I retained my calmness and presence of mind.

"Come on behind him, Crothers, and you too, Turner," said the colonel. "We will take no more chances with him."

The two men closed up behind me, the colonel marched on before, and I was the convict in the middle. Thus we stalked back into Fort Defiance. Before I entered the door I saw Grace Hetherill looking from an upper window; her face expressed an alarm which I did not feel. I smiled at her in virtue of our brief comradeship of the morning, but she did not smile back: we had stalked out of view the next moment.

The colonel led the way to the little room or cell which I had occupied during the previous night, and showed me in, with scant—very scant—courtesy.

"It will be necessary to search you," he said. "We know not what further sketches or maps of Fort Defiance you may have concealed about you."

I think on the whole I am a tolerant man, but at this proposed indignity my stomach revolted.

"I will not submit to a search," I said. "You have no right to do such a thing."

"It is in perfect accordance with the laws of war," replied the colonel, very calmly. "Spies are always searched. I do not see upon what ground you base your protest."

He looked very determined, and I recalled the fact that I was opposed to bruises and undignified struggles. Moreover, I remembered the consoling fact that I had a refuge in injured innocence. When Crothers went through my pockets I made no resistance. He found nothing more dangerous than a penknife, a handkerchief, and some keys made to fit doors very far from Fort Defiance.

"Are you satisfied?" I asked the colonel, when his man had finished.

"For the present," he replied, shortly. "I will have more to say to you before long."

He and his men went out. They seemed to be very careful about fastening the door, for they spent a deal of time fumbling with the lock.

I drew my stool up to the window and took my seat there, beginning my second imprisonment in the same room; my second state, so the colonel seemed to intend, was to be much worse than the first. The complex character of this old warrior interested me and aroused my curiosity; his fierce and somewhat stilted invective amused me, now that he had gone from my presence, and I was in a state of wonder, too, as to what the end of the adventure would be. A rare adventure it was, without doubt, and I vowed to myself that it should not suffer in the telling when I returned to my friends in the city.

Thus amused and surmising, all my vexation at the colonel's high-handed treatment and verbal abuse of me departed. Instead, I wondered how any man, at the end of thirty years, could cling so firmly and at such a sacrifice to a lost and now vain cause. A feeling of hunger put a stop to this guessing and wondering. The air of the morning had been crisp and fresh, and I had worked hard over my unfortunate picture. I needed refreshment, and, since I owed the colonel no politeness, I kicked the door violently, in the hope that I would attract some one of his Confederate veterans, to whom I could give my order.

Though I made a deal of noise, nobody responded, and I quit kicking. I was tempted to smash the window, but rages are exhaustive and ineffective, and I decided not to do so. At last I concluded to be a martyr. It is one of the most consoling of all things to feel that you are a martyr, and my peace of mind was restored. I decided that I would not take the thing seriously, and that when I left Fort Defiance I would not upbraid the colonel for his abuse of the laws of hospitality, so sacred in the mountains.

I resumed my seat by the window, and saw Grace Hetherill in the court. She was looking up at my window, and when she saw my face there she waved a handkerchief two or three times and then disappeared quickly behind the wall. Now, let it be understood that I had no idea Grace Hetherill was trying to flirt with me, but I was sure she had made a signal of some kind. Perhaps she intended to encourage me, but I fancied I scarcely needed that; not in the year of our Lord and deep peace 1896.

I heard them fumbling at the door again. The colonel and two of his men appeared.

"You will come with us, if you please," said the colonel, with the stiff, military courtesy which he had never abated since his explosion about the picture.

"I trust it is to dinner, colonel," I said, with some gayety, which I really felt. "This mountain air of yours breeds hunger."

He made neither denial nor assent, but led the way down-stairs. The two men followed close behind me, as if bent upon preserving the fiction that I was a convict or criminal of some kind. Somewhat to my surprise, the colonel led the way into the large room which Grace Hetherill had called the great parlor. A new arrangement of its furniture had been made. A long table with chairs around it had been placed in the centre of the room, and drooping over it from the ceiling was a large Confederate flag. Five or six men, including Dr. Ambrose, all dressed in Confederate gray, were present.

The colonel saw my astonished and questioning look, and said,—

"I told you, Mr. West, that everything was to be done in accordance with military law. The Confederacy would not disgrace itself by acting otherwise. You are to have a fair trial."

All the men had risen to their feet and saluted the colonel. I was invited to take a chair at the foot of the table; all the others took their seats also. Dr. Ambrose again acted as secretary, the colonel presiding, and the court-martial began.

I saw nothing better than to fall in with the spirit of the thing. Let me repeat for the second time that I dislike bruises and undignified struggles, and I had no choice. Accordingly, I pulled a very grave and long face, and sat in silence, awaiting the questions that the military tribunal might propound to me.

"I think," said the colonel, "it would be just to give the prisoner a full and explicit statement of the charge against him."

"I think so, too," I said. "It would at least be interesting, if not important."

The colonel frowned at my flippancy.

"You, sir," he said, addressing me, "who call yourself Arthur West, of New York City, with what truth we know not, are accused of entering the military lines of the Confederacy in civilian's attire for the purpose of spying upon our fortifications, armaments, and other military supplies, and of delivering such information as you might obtain to the enemy. Is not that true, sir?"

"The war is over, colonel," I said. "The Confederacy perished more than thirty years ago."

"You speak falsely, sir," he said, with some fierceness. "The war is not over, and the Confederacy has not perished. See its flag over your head. I hold my commission from President Jefferson Davis himself, and certainly I have not laid down my arms."

I smiled a little, whistled a bar or two, and gazed at the ceiling. The colonel looked deeply annoyed at my carelessness.

"Be careful, Mr. West," he said. "You are not helping your case by your conduct."

"Colonel," I said, "come to see me in New York, and I'll show you the town."

"Enough of such levity," he cried. "Will you or will you not plead to the charge?"

"Colonel," I said, "it is the 18th of November, 1896, and a very fine afternoon."

"I have warned you once already that you are prejudicing your own case," he cried.

"I deny the jurisdiction of the tribunal," I said.

"Your denial goes for nothing," he said. "Do not enter it upon the record, doctor. Will you say what brought you into these mountains?"

"As I have told you several times," I said, "I belong to a hunting-party, and was lost. I did not know I was near Fort Defiance, nor had I ever heard of such a place."

"Let that be entered upon the record, doctor," said the colonel.

"I have it all," said the doctor.

"Crothers," said the colonel, "put upon the table the sketch which I found the prisoner making this morning."

Crothers obeyed.

"What do you call that?" said the colonel to me.

"I would call that," I replied, "a pretty bad picture of Fort Defiance."

My tone was light, and, as usual, my levity seemed to displease the colonel very much. He warned me for the third time that I was injuring my chances, but I was not impressed.

"That sketch," said he, "shows the situation and fortifications of Fort Defiance. You were found drawing it surreptitiously. I ask you again, what have you to say about it?"

"Nothing, colonel," I replied, "except that when we dine together in New York we will discuss its artistic merits or lack of them."

The colonel ran his hand impatiently through his hair, and again uncovered the scar of the deep wound on his head. I wondered in what battle he had received it, and had a mind to ask him whenever opportunity made the question pertinent.

"Make proper entries on the record," he said to the doctor, "that the prisoner will give only irrelevant answers to our questions."

"It has been done," said the doctor.

The door of the room was opened at that moment, and Miss Hetherill appeared. Her father rose hastily, and his manner showed that he was disconcerted.

"You must retire at once, Grace," he said. "I forbade your presence here."

"Father," she said, "you must stop these proceedings. You must not harm Mr. West."

I rose and bowed in my best manner.

"I thank you for your intercession, Miss Hetherill," I said, "but I can protect myself."

She turned her whole attention to her father, neglecting me. I resumed my seat and looked out of the window, that I might appear to take no notice in case a family jar occurred. It is an immense satisfaction to have a pretty girl interfere in one's behalf, and I was content merely to look out at the river and the yellowing leaves.

The colonel took his daughter by the arm and told her again she must withdraw. She protested, but in tones too low for me to hear the exact words. The colonel was becoming much excited. The matter was ended speedily by the withdrawal of Miss Hetherill, in which I think she was wise, for the gentlemen conducting my court-martial seemed to have made up their minds to go on with the business. This was shown the more clearly to me because when she went out the colonel locked the door. I did not see him do it, as I kept my eyes on out-of-doors, but I heard the key turning in the lock.

"Attention, sir!" said the colonel.

I was observing then some beautiful splashes of red and yellow on the mountain foliage, which appealed to my love of color, and I did not turn my head.

"Do you hear me, sir," said the colonel, provoked, as I meant him to be. "Will you plead to this very grave charge against you?"

"Colonel," I said, "it is a splendid afternoon for a walk, and we might get a fine view from the crest of the ridge yonder. Shall we take a stroll up there together?"

"Gentlemen," said the colonel, "we have given the prisoner every opportunity to speak, and he will not take advantage of it. There is nothing further for the court to do but to render its verdict."

All the men except the colonel and the doctor withdrew to the far end of the room. They talked together a few moments, and then returned to us, Crothers at their head.

"What is your verdict, Mr. Crothers?" asked the colonel.

"Death," replied Crothers.

"So say you all?" asked the colonel.

"So say we all," they said.

"May the Lord have mercy on his soul," added the colonel, in the tone of a judge.

"You seem to be agreed, gentlemen," I said, looking around from the window.

"Undoubtedly," said the colonel. "Mr. Secretary, see that the sentence of the court is entered upon the record."

"It has been done," replied the doctor.

"Then if you have amused yourselves sufficiently, gentlemen," I said, "I would like to go back to my room, as I am tired. I'd thank you also to send me something to eat, as I am hungry, too."

"That much courtesy is due you," said the colonel.

Rising, he led the way, and two of the men closed in behind me, according to the prescribed rule. Thus we marched back to my room, where I was locked in and left to wait for food, spending such time as I chose meanwhile in reflections upon the fate of a man condemned to death, an advantage that I had never enjoyed in the first person before. I can say with the utmost respect for the truth that my chief sensation was still one of curiosity. I was not accustomed to such adventures, and, as I knew of no precedents, I could make no predictions.

All such thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Crothers with my supper; and I perceived that a man under sentence of death may become as hungry as one with freedom and many years to enjoy. While Crothers spread the banquet, another soldier walked up and down in the hall, and just before Crothers shut the door I caught the steel-blue of his rifle-barrel. Evidently they were keeping a good guard over me, which seemed to me a waste of thought and strength. But they had kept in mind the principle that it costs nothing to be courteous to a dying man, and had sent me a most excellent repast, from which the prospect of dying took no sauce.

"Mr. Crothers," said I, as I poured a cup of hot coffee and sniffed the aroma of a piece of fresh and well-cooked venison, all mine, "how long have you served Colonel Hetherill?"

"I enlisted in his regiment in '61," replied Crothers, "and he's still my commanding officer. That makes thirty-five years by my reckoning."

"How much longer do you expect to serve him?" I asked.

"Until the war is over," he replied, briefly.

Evidently here was a man of the colonel's own mind and temper.

The very good dinner put me in an excellent humor.

"Mr. Crothers," I asked, "am I to be shot or hanged?"

"You'll have to ask the colonel," he replied, "though I think it's commoner to hang spies than to shoot 'em."

He spoke in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Mr. Crothers," I began again, "do you think I am alarmed?"

"I'd be in your place," he replied.

After this I could not get him to continue any form of debate. He merely sat in obstinate silence while I finished the supper. To mark my disapproval of his manners, I turned my back upon him and resumed my old occupation of gazing out of the window. My sentence of death had made no change in the prospect. The lights and colors on mountain and forest were as vivid as ever. Where the edges of the dying leaves had turned red, the forest glowed as with fire; then came patches of soft brown, and beyond were streaks of yellow gold. It was a beautiful world, unhurt by its wildness.

Crothers took up the tray of empty dishes, and bade me a polite good-night, which I returned without bad feeling. I was rather glad he had gone, since a man who will not talk to me when I want to talk to him annoys me.

While the sun was setting and the night coming on to take its place, I tried to decide how I would avenge myself upon Colonel Hetherill for his treatment of me. To me it seemed a somewhat complicated question, as he had certainly saved my life, though the saving of it gave him no right to the taking of it, and if I injured him I would be sure to injure his daughter, who undoubtedly had shown consideration for me. I gave it up, leaving the problem to its own solution, and continued to sit by the window, looking out at nothing. Thus importantly occupied, I heard the usual fumbling at the door which betokened a visitor. I was guessing whether it would be the colonel or Crothers, when I saw it was neither, but Grace Hetherill. She stopped to close the door very carefully, and when she turned to me she showed excitement. I had risen and was preparing to make the compliments custom demands from a young man to a young woman, when she exclaimed, in nervous tones,—

"Mr. West, you must escape from this house to-night!"

"Escape, Miss Hetherill?" I said. "Where would I go? It is comfortable here, although my movements are somewhat restricted. But out there in those wild mountains I would starve to death."

I spoke lightly, but my manner seemed to increase her apprehensions. She came closer and put her hand upon my arm.

"Mr. West," she said, "you do not yet understand your situation and its dangers."

"I see no occasion for alarm, Miss Hetherill," I said. "Your father has gratified his whim, and I shall not complain of the trouble he has caused me. It might be made a rough sort of jest for him if I carried the news to Washington; but I see no reason why I should do so."

I felt her hand grip my arm in her excitement.

"This is no play, no jest!" she cried. "Do you think that my father looks upon this fort, the weapons in it and the flag over it, as a mere whim? They are the most real of all things to him."

I was impressed by her earnestness and strong feeling. I was about to say that if her father looked upon such things as realities I was sorry for him, but I remembered that I should not speak so bluntly to her father's daughter.

"I tell you they are realities!" she exclaimed. "It is a reality that you are held a prisoner here, a condemned spy; and it is a reality that you are to be shot as such at nine o'clock in the morning."

"What? Is this the truth?" I exclaimed.

"Crothers and another man are digging your grave now," she said.

"How do you know?" I asked, still partly incredulous.

"I have seen them at work," she replied.

I was more impressed than ever. I leave it to all if it is not a trifle hard upon a man's nerves to receive the news that other men are digging his grave for him. Moreover, her manner left no doubts. I was seized with a sudden shudder of the nerves and chill of the blood. I saw that this fanatical old colonel would carry out his farce to the end, and that end was my execution.

"Do you believe me now?" she asked.

"Yes; but what am I to do?" I said, in despair.

"You must leave Fort Defiance to-night," she said.

"Am I to go up through the roof or down through the floor?" I asked.

"Do not jest with your danger," she replied, both reproof and reproach in her voice.

"But when you speak of escape, I see no way to obey you, Miss Hetherill," I said.

"Do you suppose that I am without influence in my father's house?" she said, with some haughtiness. "I have prepared the way, and will lead. You have nothing to do but follow me."

She opened the door again, and I saw that no guard was in the hall. It was not a time to waste energy upon one's baggage or mode of taking leave, and without ado I followed her.

"Step as lightly as you can," she said.

I was willing enough to obey her. She had made me see the truth about her father, and while I was opposed to death under any circumstances I wished least of all to face it very early on a cold morning, and perhaps have my body tumbled into a ditch afterward. This, too, in the year of peace 1896. Accordingly, I shod my feet with felt. We passed from the upper hall to the lower in safety, and reached the front door. Then I saw that in fact she had prepared the way for me. No guard was there, nor did she even need to unlock any bolts. She pushed the door open, and in rushed a flood of the cool night air. I knew then that the wind of heaven was the wind of freedom.

The outside of Fort Defiance seemed to be, like the inside, without guards. The river plashed and gurgled in the dusk, and the dry leaves rustled as the wind blew them upon one another, but that was all. The fort seemed to be asleep. The muzzle of the little brass cannon that swept the drawbridge was hidden in the darkness, and the cannon was without threat.

Miss Hetherill left me at the door a few moments, and when she returned she thrust into my hands a military knapsack which seemed to be well filled.

"It contains food," she said: "you will need it."

I hung the knapsack over my shoulder and followed her, for she was already leading the way to the drawbridge, which was down and unguarded. A few steps took us across. I looked back at Fort Defiance, a solid dark mass, no light anywhere showing that it was tenanted.

"Miss Hetherill," I said, and I was speaking sincerely, "you have done much for me, and I am very grateful, but do not go any farther. I can find my way now, and I will say good-by to you here."

"No," she said; "I will take you out of the valley and put you on your road."

Her tone did not admit of protest, and without a word I followed her. She led the way across the valley directly toward the nearest mountain slope. I will admit that on this journey I was cherishing a feeling of satisfaction. It is not only pleasant to have a pretty girl interest herself in one's behalf, but still pleasanter, if one's life must be saved at all, to have it saved by that same pretty girl.

At the point to which we were trending, the first slope of the mountain was not distant more than half a mile. The path was clear, and we were soon there. I felt like uttering my thanks again, but such words seemed so futile that I remained silent.

"Keep to the southwest," said Miss Hetherill. "Don't forget that. Watch the sun to-morrow, and remember always to travel to the southwest. If you do that you will reach the settlements before your food is exhausted."

"Good-by, Miss Hetherill," I said.

"Good-by," said she.

She was standing before me, and she looked so fair in the moonlight that I stooped down suddenly and kissed her.

I do not know why I did it, I had known her only a day or so, but I had no apologies to make then, and I will make none now.

She stared at me a moment, her face quite red. Then, without speaking, she turned and walked swiftly toward Fort Defiance, while I slowly climbed the first slopes of the mountains.