CHAPTER VIII.
THE TWO RIVALS AT JUDGE OWEN'S--A COMBAT A LA OUTRANCE BETWEEN THEBANCKER AND THE WALLACE--ALMOST A CHALLENGE, AND A TRIAL OF EVERY-DAYCOURAGE.
Return we now to the somewhat too-long neglected Miss Emily Owen and theother inmates and intimates of Judge Owen's pleasant house near theHarlem River.
Some days had elapsed after the conversation between Emily and AuntMartha, bringing the time to the first of July and the commencement ofthat fire-cracker abomination that was to culminate on the Fourth in ageneral distraction. Some days had elapsed--as has already been noted;and judging by the person who sat nearest to Miss Emily Owen in thefaintly-lighted parlor, at about half past eight in the evening, theJudge's praises of Col. Bancker and animadversions of Frank Wallace hadnot been without their effect on the young girl. Both the rival suitorswere present, and so was Aunt Martha; but Frank Wallace made a somewhatdim and undefined picture as he sat near one of the front windows,apparently observing the boys deep in the mysteries of fire-crackers andtorpedoes; while the Colonel was in altogether a better light as he satnear Emily and nearly under the half-lighted chandelier. Emily wasindulging in the peculiarly American vice of rolling backward andforward in a rocking-chair; the Colonel had one leg over the other andwas drumming with the opened blade of his penknife on the cover of thebook he held in his hand; and Aunt Martha was ruining what eyes she hadleft, by some kind of crochet-work in cotton that may possibly have beena "tidy."
Frank and the Colonel had come in very nearly together, yet _not_together, about half an hour before. Some little conversation hadensued, but very little, for the rivals instinctively hated each other,and Wallace could not manage to string ten words in his rival's presencewithout throwing hits at him in a manner decidedly improper. PerhapsEmily had taken the Colonel's part a little, spite of her aversion tohim; and the result was that Master Frank had fallen partially into thesulks and gone off to the end of the room--quite as far as he intendedto go at that juncture, however.
The young man might be pardoned if he felt for the moment a littlevexed. Though not forbidden the house of Judge Owen, and treated withcold politeness when he entered it (of course with _one_ exception)--heknew very well that he was an object of dislike to the portly Judge, andhe always endeavored so to time his visits that he might avoid thatparental potentate. That afternoon he had accidentally seen the Judge(who had anticipated his summer vacation) step on board the Hudson Rivercars, with Mrs. Owen, for a day or two somewhere up the Hudson; and hehad very naturally made his calculations upon a quiet evening withEmily. And now to find the Colonel dividing the opportunity withhim--nay more, to find Emily even siding a little with the valorousColonel!--it _was_ too bad, was it not?
Perhaps the young lover would not have fallen into his partial sulksquite so easily, had he been aware that Col. Bancker had announced hisintention of being at the house in the evening (as _he_ had not), andthat Emily had begged her aunt to come down from her room and sit withher in the parlor, on purpose to prevent the expected Colonel having anopportunity for one word with her in private. But these men are sounreasonable as well as so blind! There is no satisfying them,especially with the amount of attention shown them by a woman whom theyhappen to fancy that they love. Perhaps men do not grow actually jealousany more easily than women, but they grow "miffed" and "hurt" a thousandtimes easier--let the fact be recorded. There is one instance onlegendary record, of a woman who divided her husband with another, atthe time of the chivalrous adventures of the Crusaders; but the instancehas not yet come to light of the man who so divided his _wife_.Mormonism at the present day shows the pitch even of fanatical toleranceto which the female mind can be wrought in this direction; while we haveyet to look for the corresponding instance on the other side, in whichthe women of a community appropriate to themselves half a dozen or fiftyhusbands each, and the men consent to the division.
This difference goes much farther even than the regulation (can such athing be regulated?) of jealousy. Where no jealousy exists,exclusiveness and the sense of propriety comes into the account--againon the male side of the calculation. Jones and his wife being bothwall-flowers at any evening party, Mrs. Jones did not feel aggrieved,but rather proud, at Mrs. Thompson's re-union, that Jones went off foran hour to pay the usual flirting attention to the wives of half a dozenof his acquaintances; while Jones colored to the eyes and could scarcelybe restrained from making a fool of himself, because Robinson sat downin the vacant chair beside his wife, and tried to be agreeable. And whenthe Emperor and Lady Flora were at Niagara last summer, it is not uponrecord that the lady made any objection to the gentleman lingering anhour too late upon Goat Island with that blonde-haired English girl whowas such an unmistakeable flirt,--while the gentleman went on like amadman on the balcony of the Cataract, because Lady Flora ran away forhalf an hour in broad daylight, to Prospect Point, with an old friend ofher father's, _oelat_ fifty and incurably an invalid. Ah, well--so ithas been from the days of the first flirtation (always _except_ that ofAdam and Eve, when there was neither male nor female rival in theneighborhood), and so it will be to the last--with those arrogant,unreasonable, unsatisfied "lords of the creation."
A word of description of the two rivals, as yet unintroduced, who onthat occasion sunned themselves in the eyes of Emily Owen, though atsuch different distances from the luminary.
Lt. Colonel John Boadley Bancker (let him have his full name once more,for the honor of the service--be the same more or less!) was a rathertall and slight man, gentlemanly in appearance and action, but with anoccasional dash of swagger that somehow did not indicate courage, andthe undefinable impression of the "old beau." His face was well-formed,except that the nose was too large and too prominently aquiline. He hadfaultlessly black side-whiskers and hair correspondingly black--_too_black, Frank Wallace said--not to have been "doctored" by Batchelor orCristadoro, at least. The dark eyes were a little faded, and there werecrows-feet at the corners of the same eyes, for age has its own way oftelling its story, and not all of us who wish to be young can alter therecord in the old family Bible. In dress Colonel Bancker presented novariation from the other colonels of the volunteer service--wearing thefull blue uniform, shoulder-straps and belts, with the number of hisregiment wrought in gold on the front of a broad brimmed hat lying on abook-table near him. Not an ill-looking man by any manner of means, inspite of the violent antipathy for him which Miss Emily had managed totransmute out of her regard for Wallace.
"Age before beauty!" is a motto somewhat popular, so the Colonel has hadthe preference. Frank Wallace, proprietor of a small but thrivingjob-printing establishment before spoken of, and would-be proprietor ofthe heart and hand of Miss Emily Owen--was altogether a different styleof man from the puissant Colonel. As he lounged at the window in hissuit of loose-fitting gray Melton, he looked very young indeed andcreated rather the impression of a "little fellow." He probably fell atleast three or four inches short of the romantic six feet, in reality;but was the owner of a fine erect and well-rounded gymnastic form, not alittle improved by frequent visits to the Seventh Regiment Gymnasium. Ajolly round face with very fair complexion, a merry blue eye, short,curly brown hair and a full moustache somewhat darker,--made up theensemble of the particular person destined to be the torment of JudgeOwen--and of others. For Frank Wallace, be it understood, had otherpenchants besides his attachment to pretty Emily--fun being the otherand leading propensity. He was a capital mimic, an incorrigiblebanterer, and in any other company than that of the woman he loved, andher family, the merriest and most jocular soul alive. Sometimes whenalone with her, and with the "spooniness" which will attach to malecourtship before twenty-five, fairly shaken off, he could be a gay,dashing and even a presuming lover. Just now he was unamiable--not tosay wicked, and ready for any use of his glib tongue which could sendthe blue coat out of the house at "double-quick."
It could not have been malice--it certainly must have been want ofthought--that induced Aunt Martha to break the temporary
silence withthe remark, addressed to the Colonel:
"It is a funny question I am going to ask, I know, Colonel, but Isuppose I have an old woman's privilege. Mrs. Owen and myself weretalking about ages a day or two ago, and she thought you were more thanthirty-five. How old _are_ you?"
If half a paper of pins, with all the points upward, had suddenly madetheir appearance in the bottom of the Colonel's chair, he probably couldnot have been more discomfited. What reason he had to be unquiet, willbe more apparent at a later period. He fidgetted a little and hemmedmore than once, before he replied:
"Humph! hum! Well, Madame, to tell you the truth, I _am_ a little on theshady side of extreme youth--old enough to be through with my juvenileindiscretions--ha! ha!" (The laugh decidedly forced and feeble). "I am alittle over thirty-two--was thirty-two in March last."
"I thought so! I was sure you could not be older than that!" said AuntMartha, in the most natural way in the world, while Emily took a quicklook round at the Colonel, which said, much plainer than words: "Oh,what a bouncer!"
"No, Madame," added the Colonel, perhaps aware that fibs require to betold over at least twice before they acquire the weight of truths told_once_. "No, Madame, a fraction over thirty-two, as I said."
At that moment the invisible influences, if they have good ears, mayhave heard Frank Wallace getting up from his chair, and mutteringbetween his teeth something very like:
"Humph! well, I cannot stand _this_ any longer! If I do not succeed inmaking the house too warm to hold that respectable individual, withinten minutes, I shall certainly leave it myself!" Just then the words"thirty-two," from the Colonel's lips, met his ear, and though he didnot catch the context, so as to know what it was all about, the spiritof malicious (and it must be said, reckless) mischief, prompted him tolounge leisurely forward and take a share in the conversation, althoughuninvited.
"Ah, Colonel, did I understand you to say thirty-two?"
"Yes, I said thirty-two!" said the personage addressed, with a stiffnesscontrasting very forcibly with the suavity of his speech to Aunt Martha.Emily, who, as may be supposed, knew Frank Wallace better than any otherperson in the house, at that moment caught a glimpse of his face underthe chandelier, and saw that trouble was brewing. The _sulk_ had gone,and the _badger_, a much more dangerous devil in society, had taken itsplace. Two antagonistic acids were certainly coming together, and anexplosion was very likely to be the result. Yet what could the poor girldo, except to wait the crash and be ready to act as peacemaker when theworst came to the worst? The one thing she would have liked to do, wasprecisely the thing she dared not do for her life--that was, to springup, catch her young lover by the arm, drag him out into the garden, pethim a good deal and kiss him a very little, and send him home doubtfulwhether he was walking on his head or his heels--while her old beaumight spend the whole evening, if he liked, with Aunt Martha. Milliewould give her bright eyes to be able to do the same thing with Tom,stately Madame _mere_, when all she dares do in your presence is to sitstill, answer in monosyllables, steal sly glances when you are notlooking, and be generally dull and stupid. Would it not be well to letthem out occasionally, Madame _mere_, for half an hour's play, with fullconsent and confidence, as they let out the colts in the country? Whoknows but they might behave the better for it, when out of your sightaltogether? Think of it, Madame _mere_, and make public the result ofyour experiment! But all this is grossly irrelevant, and springs out ofthe fact that Emily, who wished to drag Frank Wallace out of the dangerof an approaching _melee_, had not the power to do so.
"Indeed I always thought there were thirty-_nine_!" said the youngscamp, in the most natural tone of surprise imaginable, and in responseto the Colonel's last "thirty-two."
"Thirty-nine _what_, sir?" asked the Colonel, with the same sign ofintense disgust upon his face that we have sometimes seen on HarryPlacide's, when playing _Sir Harcourt Courtley_ and uttering the words:"Good gracious! who was addressing _you_?"
"Oh, I really beg pardon," replied the young man, in a tone which meantthat he did nothing of the kind. "I thought I heard Mrs. West andyourself speaking of the religious aspects of the country, and that youwere enumerating the articles of faith."
"Oh no, you were quite mistaken, Mr. Wallace!" said Aunt Martha, verycalmly, while Emily directed an appealing look at the scapegrace, whichmight as well have been a putty pellet fired at the brown-stoneWashington in the Park, for any effect it produced.
"No sir, we were talking of nothing of the kind!" said the Colonel, withthat kind of severe dignity intended to convey: "This closes theconversation."
"Then of course it is my duty to beg pardon once more," said theincorrigible. "But you _might_ have been talking on that subject, youknow, without any impropriety. The religious aspects of the country aredeplorable!" throwing up his hands and eyes in no bad imitation of_Aminadab Sleek_. "Do you not think so, Colonel?"
"Sir!" said the Colonel, still more severely, "I had not been thinkingof the subject at all!"
"Oh yes," the scapegrace went on--"deplorable! War desolating thecountry--all the restraints of society removed or weakened--no Sabbathat all--gambling and libertinism in the army and infidelity among theofficers--Colonel, I really hope you will excuse me! of course I do notmean to make any allusion to the present company--but I repeat that thepresent religious aspects of the country are deplorable."
"And _I_ repeat, sir," spoke the Colonel, with even more severity thanbefore, while Aunt Martha's face began to assume an expression thatmight easily have deepened into a smile, and Emily had serious troubleto keep from a broad grin--"_I_ repeat, sir, that we were not speakingof the religious aspects of the country at all!"
"Pshaw! of course not! How stupid I am!" said the tormentor, who had bythis time dropped into a chair a little behind the Colonel's leftshoulder, where he could literally talk into his ear. "It was the numberthat deceived me, as I heard it from the window. I _should_ have knownwhat you were saying, at once. You are right in the remark that had wehad only thirty-two States instead of thirty-four, this rebellion mightnever have occurred. Had South Carolina, with its rampant Calhounism,and Massachusetts with its anti-slavery fanaticism, both been left outof the compact--"
"_I_ must beg pardon, now, for interrupting _you_, Mr. Wallace," saidAunt Martha, with the calmest of voices and the smile all smoothed awayfrom her face. "You are mistaken again. We were neither discussingreligious nor national affairs, when you were so _kind_ as to come downand join us." (Emphasis on the word "kind," which made the young manwince a little and for the moment predisposed the Colonel to a chuckle.)"Colonel Bancker was saying--"
"Really, my dear Madame," put in the Colonel, "it is scarcely necessaryto repeat--"
"Oh, we have had quite enough of misconceptions," said that estimablelady, with what appeared to be another shot at Wallace. "Let us have thetruth at last. I had the impoliteness to ask Colonel Bancker his age,and he had the courtesy to say that he was just turned of thirty-two."
"Ph-ph-ph-ph-ew!" came in a long whistle from the lips of the tormentor.The Colonel sprung to his feet in an instant, and looked angrily around.Frank Wallace was quite on the other side of the room, examining apastel over the mantel, and whistling very slightly, but he wascertainly whistling the serenade from "Pasquali."
"Sir!" said the Colonel, rage in the word.
"Meaning _me_?" asked Wallace, turning around.
"Was that whistle intended for _me_, sir?" demanded the Colonel,tragically.
"Certainly not," answered Wallace. "I was directing my whistle, which isnot a good one, and certainly impolite in company--at the cornice. Thecornice is a handsome one, you will notice, Colonel, and I think byGarvey. Those festoons of roses--"
"Mr. Wallace, you shall answer to me for this!" broke out the Colonel,now no longer master of himself.
"Gentlemen! gentlemen!" said Aunt Martha, rising.
"Don't, Frank! for heaven's sake don't torment him any more!" pleadEmily, passing rapidly before her lover and s
peaking in a low tone.Whether he understood her is a question to be settled between them atsome future time. "Don't!" is a very easy thing to say, when Niagara ispouring or a herd of wild buffaloes sweeping down; but if theimploration is addressed to either of the moving bodies, it may not winquick obedience. As the human temper is a combination of the torrent,the herd, and all the other unmanageable things in nature and beyond,"Don't!" even from a voice that we love, with right and reason behindit, is sometimes painfully powerless. There is no intention, on the partof the narrator, of defending the previous or subsequent action of Mr.Frank Wallace on this occasion; but actual events must be recorded.
"Well sir, and what am I to answer?" asked the young man, without aquiver in his voice, but with much more earnest in it than it had beforemanifested.
"You made an offensive comment on my veracity, by whistling, a momentago."
"And what then, sir?"
"That offensive comment shows that you doubt my veracity!"
"Gentlemen! gentlemen!" again spoke Aunt Martha; and poor Emily, nowhalf frightened out of her wits, made one more attempt at imploring herlover to be quiet. This done, and both now aware that the tide, on oneside at least, had overflowed the bounds of all prudence, they desisted,stepped back from between the rivals, and allowed the quarrel to takeits own course.
"And suppose I _do_ doubt your veracity!" answered Wallace to the lastremark of the Colonel. "You call yourself thirty-two! Bah! you arefifty, if you are ten!" The obvious rage on the countenance of theColonel did not stop the torrent, now, nor even check it! "Such finecrows'-feet under the eyes, as those of yours, never come much beforefifty, except in case of a nice round of brandy-smashes, late hours andgeneral dissipation, or--"
"Well, sir, what is the _or_?" broke out the Colonel, still morefurious.
"A severe course of early piety!" concluded the young man, throwing aterrible sting into the tail of his sentence, not less by the mannerthan the voice.
"You should answer for this, Mr. Wallace, as you call yourself," foamedthe Colonel--"but--"
"But _what_, Lieut. Colonel Bancker--as you _try_ to call yourself?"thundered the young man, in reply.
"Oh, gentlemen! gentlemen! do stop, for the sake of the house!"imploringly put in Aunt Martha at this period; while Emily, seriouslyfrightened, indulged in a few tears that were no doubt set down to theaccount of her brute of a lover, by the over-watching intelligences. Butthe quarrel ceased not, even yet, at the bidding of either; and,marvellous to relate, though the front windows were open and they werespeaking in a tone altogether too loud for the amenities of society, acrowd had _not_ gathered around the area railing in front.
"But _what_?" demanded the younger combatant.
"But that my sword, sir--" began the elder.
"Oh, you _have_ a sword, then!" sneered Wallace. "I thought it was all_belts_!"
"I would chastise you for this, sir, severely," said the officer, "butthat my sword is sacred to the cause of the Union. When with myregiment, sir--"
"Yes, I know," again interrupted Wallace, who had his own reasons forbelieving that the Colonel's regiment was altogether a myth, as so manyothers have been--"Yes, I know--the Eleven hundred and fifty-fifth ConeyIsland Thimble-rig Zouaves!"
Human patience could stand this no longer. With one dash for his hat anda surly "Good night, ladies!" coupled with an intimation to Wallace:"You shall hear from me, sir!" Lt. Colonel John Boadley Bancker (let himonce more have the full benefit of the name!) strode out of the parlorinto the hall, and was about to vanish from the field. But as he passedinto the hall the hand of Aunt Martha was laid upon his arm, and hervoice--so much pleasanter than that of the tormentor--sounded in hisear. The good aunt, whatever might have been her wish to rid her nieceof a match so repugnant, certainly did not wish to produce the riddancein this manner and to send the Colonel out of the house under asensation of outrage which could not fail to come to the ears of her"big brother." So she passed into the hall with the Colonel, leaving theyoung people behind her,--and managed to detain the enraged man in thehall and on the piazza for several minutes. It was not the first time,beyond doubt, that she had made peace for others, however she might havemartyred her own.
"Oh, Frank! what have you done!" exclaimed the young girl, the momentthey had passed out into the hall, her eyes yet dim with the tears ofanxiety she had been shedding; but in spite of her fear and even hermortification, laying her hand in that of the reckless young scapegracewhom she truly loved. "Father will hear of this--we shall be separatedaltogether!" And again she repeated the expostulation of all dairy-maidsto all cats or children that have upset pans of milk--"What have youdone!"
"What have I done!" echoed the culprit. "Why merely roasted a cowardlyhumbug who deserves nothing better, and who has not spunk enough toresent it--that is all!"
"But besides my father's anger--I am afraid he _may_, Frank," said theyoung girl, looking into her lover's face with real anxiety.
"I only wish he would!" was the reply.
"Why, you do not mean to say that you would fight him?"
"With the sword, if he has one--no!" he said. "Not with anything moredangerous than a piece of rattan. I would not mind polishing off hisdainty hide with _that_! Besides, if I quarrelled with him, who made me?You! He sat too near you, and you not only talked with him but _looked_at him. What business had you to look at him? Eh?"
"Oh, you cruel fellow!" said the young girl, not disposed to scold moresharply, even at _folly_, when it had such a sediment of true love lyingbeneath the froth.
"Oh, you handsome torment!" was the reply of the lover, as he took thatone auspicious moment to enfold the young girl in his arms and give herhalf a dozen warm, close, voluptuous kisses full on the lips--suchkisses as people should never indulge in who do not know exactly thehaven toward which they are sailing.
"What are you doing _now_, impudence!" uttered the thoroughly-kissedgirl, making just so much resistance as seemed becoming, and yet meetingher lover nearly enough half-way to make the exercise ratherexhilarating.
"What am I doing? 'Locking up' a 'form'--you know I am a printer!" saidthe young man, taking yet another "proof" of affection. But here thealarmed reader will be spared the succession of bad puns, peculiar tothe printing-office, with which this specimen was followed, and whichhas probably been to some extent indulged in by every disciple of Faustmore or less in love, since Adam worked off the first proof of hisbreakfast bill-of-fare, on the original hand-press, in one corner of theGarden of Eden.
The young man was yet standing with his arm around the waist of Emily,just within the door leading from the parlor into the hall, and yetother farewell kisses and reproaches might have been on the possibleprogramme,--when both were startled by a sharp scream from Aunt Martha,who was yet standing on the piazza with the Colonel near her.
"Ough-ough-oh!"
Wallace and Emily at once rushed to the front door, under the beliefthat some sudden accident had befallen the lady; but at that momentthere was a loud crash, followed by other voices screaming; and in thestreet, almost in front of the door, a painful and threatening spectaclepresented itself.
As afterwards appeared, when the various parties became sufficientlycollected to ascertain what had really happened--a carriage had beencoming along the street from the left, driven rapidly, but with the pairof fine horses under good command. Just before it reached the house ofJudge Owen, one of those troublesome boys who ought all to be sent toBlackwell's Island from the twenty-fifth of June until the tenth ofJuly, had thrown a lighted "snake," or "chaser," under the belly of thenear horse as he passed. The animals had already become sufficientlyfrightened by the fire-crackers thrown under them and the pistolsexploding at their ears; and at this crowning atrocity they becamealtogether unmanageable. Spite of the exertions of the practised driver,they shied violently to the left, breaking into a run at the samemoment, and the next instant one side of the carriage was whirled uponthe curb, so that the hind axle and wheel caught in the lamp-pos
t,happily not tearing apart or overturning the vehicle, but bringing-upwith such a shock that the driver was hurled from his seat and thrown tothe pavement between the maddened horses.
This state of affairs had drawn the scream from Aunt Martha, and at theinstant when Wallace reached the door the people in the carriage werescreaming but incapable of getting out, the horses were plunging to sucha degree that they must have broken loose in a moment, after making awreck of the carriage and trampling to death the poor fellow who laysenseless under their feet. At the same time it seemed worth a dozenlives to plunge into that storm of lashing hoofs and do anything torescue driver and riders from their peril.
"Help! help! oh, save them!--save the poor man--somebody!" cried boththe women on the piazza, at a breath; and "Help! help!" rung in awoman's voice from the inside of the carriage. Fifteen or twenty personshad already rushed up, but no one seemed disposed to risk his own lifeto save others. The Colonel yet stood on one of the steps of the piazza,apparently spell-bound.
"Colonel Bancker, you wanted to try courage with me a little while ago:take hold of those horses, if you _dare_!" cried Frank Wallace, rushingto the edge of the stoop. The Colonel neither spoke nor stirred."Coward!" they heard the young man cry, and the next instant--how, noneof them knew--he had rushed in upon the horses' heads, spite of theirlashing hoofs, had one or both by the bridles, and in an instant moreboth horses were flung prostrate and helpless. The imminent danger over,some of the bystanders rushed in to assist, the horses were more firmlysecured, and the poor driver was dragged out, bloody and halfinsensible, but not seriously injured. One ready and daring hand hadprevented the certain loss of one life, and the probable loss of more.Fire-crackers, pistols and other abominations had vanished from thestreet as if by magic; the noise over, the horses came again undercommand; they were raised, and horses, harness and carriage all foundcomparatively uninjured; the disabled driver was taken to a neighboringdrug-store; one of the bystanders volunteered to drive the carriage toits destination, and took his seat on the box; the owner droned out histhanks from the inside of the carriage, in a fat, wheezy voice, mingledwith the sobs of a woman in partial hysterics; and the equipage rolledaway almost as suddenly as it had come--perhaps not five minutes havingbeen consumed in the whole affair.
Short as was the time occupied, the Colonel had disappeared. When thetrouble was over he was no longer standing on the piazza. Frank Wallacehad apparently been once beaten down, and had some soiled spots on hisMelton, and a few bruises, but he had received no injury of anyconsequence. For what violent and even dangerous exertion he hadundergone, he was unquestionably more than repaid when Aunt Marthacaught him by one hand and said fervently, "God bless you!" and whenEmily Owen took the other hand with a warmer and fonder pressure thanshe had ever given it before, and said--so low that probably not evenAunt Martha heard her: "Good--brave--generous Frank!--I won't scold youagain in a twelvemonth!"
All that Frank Wallace replied to both these generous outbursts, wascomprised in a snap of his fingers in the direction supposed to havebeen taken by the Colonel, and the words:
"Bah! I told you that man was a coward and wouldn't fight! If he had notpluck enough to risk the feet of those two horses, what would he do inthe face of a charge of rebel cavalry!"
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