"Well, then," said the officer, with an oath, "be a little more careful in the future about the kind of songs you sing, or I'll have every d——d one of you bucked and gagged, and whipped within an inch of your lives."
Replacing his weapon, and turning on his heel, he was striding angrily away when he came face to face with Webster.
The recognition was mutual and instantaneous between the two men. As quick as a flash Webster had his revolver cocked and pointed at the head of the blustering Confederate.
"Bill Zigler, what are you doing here? You move at your peril."
"I'd kill you, curse you, but you've got the drop on me now, as you had once before. But my time will come, you d——d Yankee spy!"
"Look here, Bill!" said Webster, anxious, if possible, to disarm at once and forever the suspicions of his enemy, "what is the use of our being continually at daggers' points? You were foolish enough to insult me in Baltimore by impeaching my loyalty to the South, and I resented it, as any man would. If you repeat the vile slander, I'll do the same thing. If, however, you have anything personal against me, and must fight, I'll put up my weapon and meet you hand to hand."
Zigler looked at the speaker a moment, and then advancing and extending his hand, said:
"Webster, put up your pistol; I guess I've made a d——d fool of myself. I did think you were a spy, but I knock under; I don't want to be an enemy to such a friend to the cause as I now believe you to be."
Lowering his revolver, Webster good-naturedly received the friendly overtures of his former foe.
"I thought you would come to your senses at last; but when did you come down here?"