The bright lights of the day flashed into the old house when the captain
angrily kicked open the door. He was aware of a wide hallway carpeted
with matting and extending deep into the dwelling. There was also an old
walnut hatrack and a little marble-topped table with a vase and two
books upon it. Farther back was a great, venerable fireplace containing
dreary ashes.
But directly in front of the captain was a young girl. The flying open
of the door had obviously been an utter astonishment to her, and she
remained transfixed there in the middle of the floor, staring at the
captain with wide eyes.
She was like a child caught at the time of a raid upon the cake. She
wavered to and fro upon her feet, and held her hands behind her. There
were two little points of terror in her eyes, as she gazed up at the
young captain in dusty blue, with his reddish, bronze complexion, his
yellow hair, his bright sabre held threateningly.
These two remained motionless and silent, simply staring at each other
for some moments.
The captain felt his rage fade out of him and leave his mind limp. He
had been violently angry, because this house had made him feel hesitant,
wary. He did not like to be wary. He liked to feel confident, sure. So
he had kicked the door open, and had been prepared to march in like a
soldier of wrath.
But now he began, for one thing, to wonder if his uniform was so dusty
and old in appearance. Moreover, he had a feeling that his face was
covered with a compound of dust, grime, and perspiration. He took a step
forward and said, "I didn't mean to frighten you." But his voice was
coarse from his battle-howling. It seemed to him to have hempen fibres
in it.
The girl's breath came in little, quick gasps, and she looked at him as
she would have looked at a serpent.
"I didn't mean to frighten you," he said again.
The girl, still with her hands behind her, began to back away.
"Is there any one else in the house?" he went on, while slowly following
her. "I don't wish to disturb you, but we had a fight with some rebel
skirmishers in the woods, and I thought maybe some of them might have
come in here. In fact, I was pretty sure of it. Are there any of them
here?"
The girl looked at him and said, "No!" He wondered why extreme agitation
made the eyes of some women so limpid and bright.
"Who is here besides yourself?"
By this time his pursuit had driven her to the end of the hall, and she
remained there with her back to the wall and her hands still behind her.
When she answered this question, she did not look at him but down at the
floor. She cleared her voice and then said, "There is no one here."
"No one?"
She lifted her eyes to him in that appeal that the human being must make
even to falling trees, crashing bowlders, the sea in a storm, and said,
"No, no, there is no one here." He could plainly see her tremble.
Of a sudden he bethought him that she continually kept her hands behind
her. As he recalled her air when first discovered, he remembered she
appeared precisely as a child detected at one of the crimes of
childhood. Moreover, she had always backed away from him. He thought now
that she was concealing something which was an evidence of the presence
of the enemy in the house.
"What are you holding behind you?" he said suddenly.
She gave a little quick moan, as if some grim hand had throttled her.
"What are you holding behind you?"
"Oh, nothing--please. I am not holding anything behind me; indeed I'm
not."
"Very well. Hold your hands out in front of you, then."
"Oh, indeed, I'm not holding anything behind me. Indeed, I'm not."
"Well," he began. Then he paused, and remained for a moment dubious.
Finally, he laughed. "Well, I shall have my men search the house,
anyhow. I'm sorry to trouble you, but I feel sure that there is some one
here whom we want." He turned to the corporal, who with the other men
was gaping quietly in at the door, and said, "Jones, go through the
house."
As for himself, he remained planted in front of the girl, for she
evidently did not dare to move and allow him to see what she held so
carefully behind her back. So she was his prisoner.
The men rummaged around on the ground floor of the house. Sometimes the
captain called to them, "Try that closet," "Is there any cellar?" But
they found no one, and at last they went trooping toward the stairs
which led to the second floor.
But at this movement on the part of the men the girl uttered a cry--a
cry of such fright and appeal that the men paused. "Oh, don't go up
there! Please don't go up there!--ple--ease! There is no one there!
Indeed--indeed there is not! Oh, ple--ease!"
"Go on, Jones," said the captain calmly.
The obedient corporal made a preliminary step, and the girl bounded
toward the stairs with another cry.
As she passed him, the captain caught sight of that which she had
concealed behind her back, and which she had forgotten in this supreme
moment. It was a pistol.
She ran to the first step, and standing there, faced the men, one hand
extended with perpendicular palm, and the other holding the pistol at
her side. "Oh, please, don't go up there! Nobody is there--indeed, there
is not! P-l-e-a-s-e!" Then suddenly she sank swiftly down upon the step,
and, huddling forlornly, began to weep in the agony and with the
convulsive tremors of an infant. The pistol fell from her fingers and
rattled down to the floor.
The astonished troopers looked at their astonished captain. There was a
short silence.
Finally, the captain stooped and picked up the pistol. It was a heavy
weapon of the army pattern. He ascertained that it was empty.
He leaned toward the shaking girl, and said gently, "Will you tell me
what you were going to do with this pistol?"
He had to repeat the question a number of times, but at last a muffled
voice said, "Nothing."
"Nothing!" He insisted quietly upon a further answer. At the tender
tones of the captain's voice, the phlegmatic corporal turned and winked
gravely at the man next to him.
"Won't you tell me?"
The girl shook her head.
"Please tell me!"
The silent privates were moving their feet uneasily and wondering how
long they were to wait.