“I was certain you would,” nodded the general. “I made the request as a technicality. I warn you, sergeant, that the chances of capture are at least ten to one against you. That is why I wish you to go in uniform. It may lessen your prospects of success, but in the event of capture you will be a prisoner of war and not hanged.”
Dad looked more keenly at the speaker. This general of his had not the reputation of nursing carefully his men’s lives, nor of placing those lives ahead of successful achievement.
Dad wondered a little at the man’s unusual consideration. But quickly he dismissed the problem as not only too deep for him, but as immaterial.
He was eager to be off upon this hazardous venture. He knew the country. He knew his route, and he was anxious to pit his brains and his luck against whatever foes might infest the intervening districts.
“You ride?” asked the general.
“Yes, sir.”
“You will gain time that way. The risk is greater, but so is the speed. Go to your quarters and get ready. I will order a fast horse sent there to you in five minutes. Start at once when it arrives. Well,” he went on impatiently as Dad hesitated, “what is it?”
“Pardon me, sir,” ventured Dad. “A man who is captured may sometimes get away, but the papers he has are seized as soon as he is caught. If I am taken and if I get away again without my papers, is there any verbal message that I may take to General Hooker? Any outline of the nature of those plans I am to carry?”
“No!”
The general spoke sharply and in a tone of stark finality, turning his back on the volunteer courier and resuming his work at the table. His manner toward him had all at once changed from the unwontedly familiar to the customarily dictatorial.