Part 44 (1/2)
”Peters!” shouted the officer again, with a string of Southern Confederacy oaths; ”where are you? What are you about?”
Of course, the orderly could not answer; and his silence only added to the rage of his master, who continued to swear in a manner which must have disgusted the gentle Jenny, and the other respectable horse standing on the stable-floor.
The officer rushed out of the stable, and the heaviness of his step indicated the state of his mind. He had gone to look for Peters; but, as Peters was not outside, he must be inside; and the officer entered again.
He now walked towards the stairs leading to the loft.
”Peters!” he continued to roar as he rushed up the stairs. ”Peters! this is your last day's service with me!”
But the poor orderly was unable to remove the stain which rested upon his fidelity. He still held his peace; still silently submitted to the unjust imputations on his character. The officer landed in the loft just as Captain de Banyan rose to receive him.
”Who are you?” demanded he, as the stout form of the captain confronted him.
”Your most obedient servant to command,” replied De Banyan.
”You are a Confederate officer?”
”I seem to be; but I am not. Be that as it may, your presence is dangerous to my health and comfort.”
”I see: you are the deserter.”
”I am; but the future lies between you and me.”
”Then we will let the future speak for itself,” answered the officer, drawing a pistol from his belt. ”Surrender, or you are a dead man!”
”I must positively decline the honor,” replied De Banyan, as he swung the pitch-fork over his head, and attempted to strike him down.
He failed; and the officer fired, but without effect. At that moment, Somers stepped forward with a billet of wood he found on the floor. At the same time, De Banyan raised the pistol; but the rebel fired a second time before he could discharge it. Somers instantly dropped his stick, and his left arm fell to his side; the ball had pa.s.sed through it. De Banyan fired; the officer sank down, not killed, but badly wounded.
CHAPTER XXVIII
DR. SCOVILLE'S PATIENT
The ball from De Banyan's pistol had pa.s.sed through the right side of the officer; and he sank upon the floor, the blood flowing copiously from the wound. These proceedings were so irregular, that Somers could not reconcile himself to them. He was wounded himself; but, when the officer fell, he was full of sympathy for him. It was evident that the sufferer would bleed to death in a short time, if left to himself without any attention; and Somers could not endure the thought of letting even an enemy die in this forsaken condition.
”Come, my boy; we have no time to lose. It's daylight now, and we ought to be five miles from the city before this time,” said De Banyan, as he moved towards the stairs. ”Take the man's pistol and ammunition, and come along as fast as you can.”
”Will you leave this gentleman in this condition?” asked Somers, gazing with pitying tenderness at the pale face of the fallen officer.
”Leave him? Of course; we can't take him with us.”
”But he will bleed to death if we leave him here.”
”Let him bleed to death; I can't help that. Many a better man than he has bled to death since this war began. Come along, Somers! What is the matter with your arm?” demanded he, when he saw that it hung useless at his side.
”I was. .h.i.t.”
”Hit! We are lost, then!”