Part 17 (1/2)

”Why don't you salute me, you Yankee villain?” said the fellow, stopping.

Paul was startled at the voice, looked the lieutenant in the face, and saw that it was Philip Funk. His face was bloated, and his eyes bloodshot. When he fled from New Hope after robbing Mr. Bond, he made his way south, joined the Rebels, and was now a lieutenant. Paul was so changed by sickness that Philip did not recognize him.

”Why don't you salute me, you dirty Yankee puppy?” said Philip, with an oath.

”I don't salute a traitor and a robber,” said Paul.

Philip turned pale with anger. ”Say that again, and I will cut your heart out!” he said, with a horrible oath, raising his sword and advancing upon Paul, who stood still and looked him calmly in the eye.

”Cowards only attack unarmed men,” said Paul.

”What do you mean, sir, by calling me a robber, traitor, and coward?”

Philip asked, white with rage, not recognizing Paul.

”I mean that you, Philip Funk, committed robbery at New Hope, ran away from home, became a traitor, and now you show yourself to be a coward by threatening to cut out the heart of a weak defenceless prisoner.”

”Who are you?” stammered Philip.

”My name is Paul Parker. I am a colonel in the service of the United States,” Paul replied, not recognizing by any familiar act his old playmate and school-fellow.

Philip dropped his sword, and stood irresolute and undecided what to do.

A group of Rebel officers who had been wounded, and were strolling about the grounds, saw and heard it all. One was a colonel.

”What do you know about Lieutenant Funk?” he asked.

”He was my schoolmate. He committed robbery and came south to join your army,” Paul replied.

The Colonel turned to the officers who were with him, and said, ”This is the fellow who is suspected of stealing from the soldiers, and it is said that he skulked at Chickamauga.”

”The cuss ought to be reduced to the ranks,” said another.

Philip did not stop to hear any more, but walked rapidly away.

The next day he was arrested and brought before a court-martial, tried, and found guilty of hiding behind a stump when ordered to make a charge in battle, and of stealing money from the soldiers. The court ordered that he be stripped of his uniform and reduced to the ranks, and wear the ”rogue's coat” through the camp. The coat was a flour-barrel, without heads, but with holes cut in the sides for his arms.

Philip was brought out upon the parade-ground, deprived of his sword and uniform, and compelled to put on the barrel, on which were written the words,

COWARD, ROBBER.

Thus, with two soldiers to guard him, with a drummer and fifer playing the Rogues' March, he was paraded through the camp. The soldiers hooted at him, and asked him all sorts of questions.

”How are you, b.u.mmer?” asked one.

”Did you pay your tailors with the money you stole?” asked another.

”Your coat puckers under the arms and wrinkles in the back,” said another.

”He felt so big they had to hoop him to keep him from bursting,”

remarked one, who remembered how pompous Philip had been.