“Yes; you say you are in South Carolina?”

“Yes,” I assented.  “Is that my coat?”

“Yes.  What district?”

“I don’t know—­yes, Barnwell.”

“Who is your captain?”

“I have never had a captain.”  Then, by a great effort, I said, “I don’t understand at all this talk about soldiers and captains.  Do you belong to the Citadel battalion?”

“No,” he said; “you mean the Charleston Citadel?

“Yes.”

“Did you go to the Citadel?”

“No; I think not,” said I.

“Why do you refer to the Citadel battalion?”

“They are soldiers,” I replied.

“Did you ever hear of President Davis—­Jeff Davis?”

“No,” said I.

“You know something of Charleston?”

“I’ve been there, I think.”

“When?”

“Well; not very long ago.”

“How long?  Try to think.”

“I am greatly confused,” I said.  “I don’t know whether I am awake or dreaming.”

“Ask me questions,” said the doctor.

“Where am I?”

“In the field hospital.”

“What am I here for?  What is the field hospital?  I did not know there was a hospital here.”

“Where do you think you are?”

“In Aiken,” I said.

“Do you live in Aiken?”

“I don’t know, Doctor.  I suppose you are a doctor?”

“Yes, when I’m at home; here I am a surgeon.  Ask me more questions.”

“Give me some water,” said I.

He brought the water, and I drank.

“Am I not in Aiken?”

“You are not now in Aiken,” said the doctor.  “Try to remember whether your home is in Aiken.”

“No, I am staying here for a time,” said I.

“Where is your home?”

“I do not know anything,” said I, gloomily.

“Ask me more questions,” said the doctor; “we must try to get you out of this.”

“Out of this what?”

“This condition.  You have been hurt, and you cannot put things together yet.  It will come right after a little, if you don’t get irritable.”

“I hope so,” said I.

“Ask more questions,” said he.

“How did I get here?”

“You were brought here unconscious, or almost so, by my infirmary men.”

“What men?”

“Infirmary men.”

“What are they?”

“Well,” said he, “they are my helpers.”

“I knew something strange had happened.  How did I get hurt?”

“Do you know how long you were in Aiken?”

“I came here yesterday, and expected to stay two or three days; but from what you tell me I suppose I am not here now.”

“Where were you before you went to Aiken?”

“I don’t know.”

“Were you not in Charleston?”

“I was in Charleston, but it might have been after I was in Aiken.”

His look became very serious at this—­in truth, what I had said was puzzling to myself.