The Littlest Rebel Part 28

"I see," he said, and Harris, knowing that due weight would be given the fact let go a faint sigh of relief and stepped back.

The cigar came out of the General's mouth. "Tell me about it," he said to Uncle Billy.

The old negro drew himself up and shifted his weight onto his other foot.

"Well, seh, 'twas dis way. One mornin' de blue-bellies--'skuse me, seh, de cav'lry gent'men. One mornin' de cav'lry gent'men come ridin' up, lookin' fer horses an' fodder an'--an' Mars' Cary--an' anything else what was layin' roun'. Yas, seh. An' des' befo' dis here gent'man come,"

with a bow at Morrison, "a low-lived white man took'n grab me by de th'oat--an' choke me, seh. Den he 'sult Miss Hallie--"

"Miss Hallie?" queried the General.

"My mis'tiss, seh," answered Uncle Billy. "My mis'tiss, seh," he said again and his hand went up to his eyes.

"The wife of Captain Cary," Harris said in a low tone and the General nodded.

"Den--bless Gawd--de Cun'l come! He pick him down offn de front po'ch--and put him under 'rest. Yas, seh. An' Miss Hallie, she sho' was hoppin', Gen'l. She--"

"Never mind that," sighed the man whose creed was Patience. "Go on with the story."

"Yas, seh. Thank'e, seh. 'Twas des lek I tell you, seh. An' arfter while orders come to de cav'lry gent'men fer to light out fr'm dar in a hurry.

An' whilst dey was gettin' ready, seh, an' me an' de Cun'l was waitin'

roun' fer to proteck de property, de fire bus' right out de winders!

"Dat's right, Mars' Gen'l," Uncle Billy hurried to state, as the General's eyebrows went up in surprise. "Dat's right. Den de front do'

flewed open, an' here come dat po' white trash rapscallion--wid de pine knot in his han'. Yas, _seh_. He--"

"One moment!" snapped the General. "Was he running _towards_ his troop or _away_ from it?"

"_Way_ fr'm it, seh," replied the old negro, with unmistakable truthfulness, "t'odes de ice house whar Miss Hallie an' de chillun was at. Yas, seh."

"And Mr. Morrison tried to stop him?"

"Ha!" cried Uncle Billy, with a chuckle. "He mo'n tried, seh. He _done_ it!"

The General nodded, his lips tight shut.

"So I understand. But what did he do--or say?"

At this question Uncle Billy suddenly developed dramatic abilities that his master had never dreamed of.

"He say--" and Uncle Billy's arm shot out as he pointed something deadly at an invisible foe--"he say, '_Halt! Dudley! Halt! Bang!_'"

Uncle Billy's hat dropped down on the floor with a whack. "Dat's all, seh. Dat po' white trash--he drop lek a stuck pig, seh!"

The General's eyes were on his desk and for a moment there was a pause.

Finally, he lifted his head and looked at Morrison, who rose in salute.

"Mr. Morrison. You did well. Your Sergeant failed in his military duty--and deserved the punishment. I commend your action."

Harris, listening with all his might, thought the words more favorable than the tone in which they were spoken and his face brightened. Then he heard the General speaking more sternly.

"The Federal powers of administrative justice now occupy precisely the same position with regard to your own default."

Harris' face darkened. After the first just encomium--what was this that was coming?

Relentless and inflexible the voice went on.

"The rules of war, as applied to a non-commissioned officer, must also govern his superiors. As Sergeant Dudley deserved his bullet you merit _yours_."

His eyes dropped from Morrison's face and he looked up at Harris.

"A bad witness for your client, Lieutenant," he said grimly, as he nodded his head towards Uncle Billy. "You ought to study law! Take him away," and he picked up a fresh cigar from a box in front of him and tossed the old one out of the window.

Uncle Billy, with a puzzled look on his face, slowly yielded to the touch of the two soldiers who stepped into the room at a gesture from Forbes. He seemed to realize that his testimony had not been of much avail though just why was indeed a mystery. One thing, however, was quite clear.

"'Skuse me, Mars' Gen'l. I--I don't need dat ar pa.s.s home now. An' I much obliged to you fer _not_ givin' it to me. Yas, seh. Thank'e, seh."

At the doorway he bowed with careful politeness to each occupant of the fatal room. "Good mornin', Mars' Cary. Good mornin', gent'men. _Good_ mornin'."

With the disappearance of bewildered Uncle Billy the General swung around on the officer who no longer wore his shoulder straps.

"Mr. Morrison," he said, in his distinct, even tones. "Your friend and counsel, Lieutenant Harris, has applied to me for your pardon!"

"_Pardon?_" cried Morrison, springing to his feet with an exclamation of amazement.

"Exactly," was the crisp response. "It comes from him--not from you. But still, as an interested party, have you anything to say in your own behalf?"

The Union officer stared at his general for a moment without replying.

Yes, there were many things that might be said--all of them honest arguments in his own behalf, all of them weighted with Right and Humanity but none of them worth putting into words in the face of this deadly machine of war, this grim, austere, unyielding tribunal. He wavered for a moment on his feet as a terrible wave of despair surged over him, then made a faint gesture of negation.

"I have nothing to say, sir."

"Captain Cary!" ordered the General and, as Cary rose unsteadily to his feet, "No. Keep your seat, sir; you are wounded. Is it true--as I learn from this report--that during a skirmish a week ago you helped defend the Union colors against your own people?"

Cary shot up from his chair with a fiery rush of anger.

"_I? No, sir!_ I defended the _man_--not the soldier, or his flag!"

"Ah!" e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed the General, leaning back in his chair and blowing out a cloud of smoke in surprise. "You draw a rather fine distinction, Captain. You saved the colors--_but you failed to save the man!_ You had better have let him die--as an honorable soldier."

There was silence for a moment, and the General asked: "Is it true that you were actuated by a debt of grat.i.tude?"

"Yes," answered the Southerner, throwing back his head. "And a greater debt than I can ever hope to pay. His mercy to--my little girl."

Without relaxing for a moment his grip on the points of the case, no matter what human elements might be drawn into it, the General instantly rose and shot out an accusing forefinger at the Confederate.

"And the pa.s.s he gave--_to you!_"

Their eyes clashed but the Southerner lowered his own not a whit and backed them, furthermore, with honest anger.

"_To her!_" he answered, and drove the reply home with clenched jaws.