“Max Pullschoff, sergeant, 3rd Regiment, 2nd Army Corps,” he answered saluting.
“Now, General, order him to allow us to proceed at once at his peril. This fooling has gone far enough,” and I enforced my words with a look of menace, while I pressed the revolver hard against his ribs, and added in a whisper, “Instantly!”
He hesitated just one instant, trying to nerve himself to defy me, but it was only for the instant.
“I am General Kolfort, and I order you at your peril to delay me no longer.”
“I am very sorry, sir, but my orders are absolute. I can’t do it.”
“Write an order to Captain Berschoff that the rascal has mutinied against your authority, General, and that instantly on his return to quarters he is to be imprisoned and flogged for mutiny. We will see then what he says about signatures,” and I took out my pocket-book and gave it him with a pencil.
He glared at me viciously, but the revolver was his master, and he wrote out the order just as I had bade him, and signed it.
“Now, Sergeant Pullschoff, read that, and say whether in the face of it you venture to carry this thing further.”
The man took it, and I saw his face turn deadly white as he read it and scanned the signature closely.
“I have done no more than my duty, General,” he murmured; but I saw that I had beaten him, and I pressed that advantage home.