“James Brinton,” gravely corrected Hooker.
Jimmie wheeled on him.
“Who told you that?” he demanded truculently, eyes ablaze and red hair bristling.
“Never mind that, my lad!” laughed Hooker. “I—”
“Look here, you!” cried Jimmie, trembling with fierce indignation. “Now that you people have spied on Dad and spotted his secret, I s’pose you’ll want to turn him out of the army. He said you might. He told me so before he joined. Well, if you do, it’ll be the rottenest trick anyone ever played. He’s the dandiest fighter you’ve got. And he’s the greatest man that ever was.
“Aw, let him stay!” he went on, his voice changing to an eager plea, “Let him stay! It’ll kill him to be kicked out just when he’s doing so fine and everything. Please let him stay. It wasn’t his fault he was turned out of the army the other time, back in Mexico. Gee! if I could get you to understand what a grand man he is—Why, the fellers in the regiment—”
Hooker put a big, kindly hand almost in caress on the boy’s heaving shoulder.
“There, lad!” he said in rough gentleness. “Don’t waste all your good powder blazing into the air. There’s no more danger of your Dad being kicked out of the army than of Jeff Davis becoming President of the United States.
“We all know the story. And we all honor him. Even President Lincoln knows it. And by this time to-morrow President Lincoln will know what Dad has done for the Union to-day in getting that paper to us.
“Now trot along. The paper you brought here is going to keep every general and every courier in the Army of the Potomac busy all day and all night. There’s no time to waste on boys. Not even on Battle Jimmies. Clear out and run along!”