“A hard job you've selected. It is not a rebellion; it's an uprising against meddlesome Yankee interference.”
Ralph's eyes flashed fire. “You don't mean to say that you justify the South, do you?”
“I not only justify it, but am proud to belong to a people who can never be subdued. Your people are trying to force us to give up our rights, but we won't be driven. We have thousands of men in the field, who do not know how to fear. And when their places are vacant, more are waiting to fill them. We despise the North, and want to be a separate people.”
“You despise a government that has always protected you in all your rights. You have no cause for wishing to be disunited. How dare you talk so to me?”
“'Dare?' Am I not your equal? Why should I not speak when I am insulted?”
“Don't talk treason to me again, then.”
“I am a prisoner,” the boy said, sadly, “innocent of any crime, surrounded by foes and powerless. Were it not so you would not give me a defiance.”
Ralph's conscience smote him. It did appear as if the odds were on his side, and with the quick generosity of youth he said—
“I am sorry for you. We will not quarrel.”
Not to be outdone in generosity, the other replied—“I believe you; but we had better not talk about it any more, for we can never agree, and we are both hot-headed. You see affairs in a different light from what I do, that is all.”