"SAYS QUINN, S'E"
Lieutenant Helm came out as I went in, and I paused an instant to ask
him in fierce suspicion if he had bandaged his hand himself. "No," he
whispered, "Miss Camille." It was a lie, but I did not learn that until
months after. "Come downstairs as soon as you can," he added, "there's a
hot supper down there; first come first served." We parted.
I found Miss Harper fanning the wounded giant and bathing his brows,
and my smiles were ample explanation of my act as I hung the sword up.
Then I brought in my leader. "Captain Jewett," he said after a nearly
silent exchange of greetings, "I wish we had you uninjured."
"Ah, no, Lieutenant, this is bad enough. Lieutenant, there is one
matter--"
"Yes, Captain, what is that?"
"The villain who set those fires--you know who he is, I hope."
"Yes, Captain, I know."
"He didn't begin that until after he left me. I had some private reasons
for not killing him when I might have done it."
"Yes, Captain, I know that, too."
"Yet if I had caught him again I would have strung him up to the first
limb."
"I have sent some picked men to catch him if they can," said Ferry, and
the racked sufferer lifted a hand in approval. Camille came to her aunt
and whispered "Mr. Gholson with two doctors." The wounded captive
heard her.
"Lieutenant," he panted, "I hope you'll--do me the favor--to let my turn
with those gentlemen--come last,--after my boys,--will you?"
"Ah! Captain, even our boys wouldn't allow that; no, here's a doctor,
now."
I went down to the supper-table. Camille was there, dispensing its
promiscuous hospitality to men who ate like pigs. I would as leave have
found her behind a French-market coffee-stand. Harry Helm, nursing his
bandaged hand, was lolling back from the board and quizzing her with
compliments while she cut up his food. A fellow in the chair next mine
said he had seen me with Ferry when we joined the Louisianians' charge.
"Your aide-de-camp friend over yonder's a-gitt'n' lots o' sweetenin'
with his grub; well, he deserves it."
I asked how he deserved it. "Why, we wouldn't 'a' got here in time if he
hadn't 'a' met-up with us. That man Gholson, he's another good one."
The latter remark seemed to me a feeler, and I ignored it, and inquired
how Lieutenant Helm had got that furlough. (Furlough was our slang for a
light wound.) "Oh, he got it mighty fair! Did you see that Yankee
lieutenant with the big sabre-cut on his shoulder? Well, your friend
yonder gave him that--and got the Yankee's pistol-shot in his hand. But
that saved Gholson's life, for that shot was aimed to give Gholson a
furlough to kingdom-come. Are they kinfolks?"
I mumbled that they were not even friends. "Well, now, I suspicioned
that,--when I first see 'em meet at the head of our column! But the
aide-de-camp he took it so good-natured that, thinks I,--"
Another of Ferry's men, seated opposite, swallowed hurriedly, and
covertly put in--"Y' ought to hear what Quinn said to Gholson just now
as they met-up out here in the hall. Quinn thought they were alone. Says
Quinn, as cold as a fish, s's'e 'Mr. Gholson,' s'e, 'you're not a
coward, sir, and that's why I'm curious to ask you a question,' s'e. And
says Gholson, just as cold, s'e 'I'm prepared, Lieutenant Quinn, to
answer it.' And says Quinn, s'e 'Why was it, that when Harry Helm struck
that blow which saved your life, and which you knew was meant to save
it, and you seen his sword shot out of his hand and three or four
Yankees makin' a dead set to kill him, and nothin' else in any
particular danger at all, why was it, Mr. Gholson, that you never turned
a hand nor an eye to save him?'"
"Great Scott! wha'd Gholson say?"
"Gholson, s'e, 'I done as I done, sir, from my highest sense o' duty.
This ain't Lieutenant Helm's own little private war, Lieutenant Quinn,
nor mine, nor yours.'"
"Jo'! that to Quinn! wha'd Quinn answer?"
"Why, with that Quinn popped them big glass eyes o' his'n till the
whites showed clear round the blue, and s'e 'I know it better than you
do; that's just what it suited you to forget. Oh! I'd already seen
through you in one flash, you sneak. It's good for you you're not in my
command; I'd lift you to a higher sense of whose war this is, damn you,
if I had to hang you up by the thumbs.' With that he started right on
by, Gholson a-keepin' his face to him as he passed, when Ned Ferry
and--her--came out o' the parlor, and Ned turned out on the rear gallery
with Quinn while she sort o' smiled at Gholson to come to her and sent
him off on some business or other. George! I never seen her so
beautiful."
Thereupon occurred a brief exchange of comments which seemed to me to
carry by implication as fine a praise as could possibly come from two
rough fellows of the camp. Speaking the names of Ferry and Charlotte in
undertone, of course, but with the unrestraint of soldiers, they said
their say without a shadow of inuendo in word or smile. Her presence,
they agreed, always made them feel as though something out of the common
"was bound to happen pretty quick," while his, they said, assured them
that "whatever did happen would happen right." I turned with a frown as
Harry laughed irrelevantly, and saw Camille and him smiling at me with
childish playfulness. Then suddenly their smile changed and went beyond
me, two or three men softly said "Smith!" and I was out of my chair and
standing when Charlotte Oliver, in a low voice, tenderly accosted me.
"Oh, Richard Thorndyke Smith!--alive and well! Lieutenant Ferry wants
you; he has just gone to his camp-fire."