"Reb nothing!" replied the Sergeant. "This boy's one of the raiders."
The Sentry's jaw dropped slightly. He stared for a moment, then turned and bolted through the door, yelling back over his shoulder, "I'll get the Captain out. Isn't up yet."
They entered the house, and Tom dropped into the first chair he reached. "Sergeant," he said, "have one of your men take care of my horse. He can have some water now."
"All right, Lieutenant."
"I'm no Lieutenant—I'm a private, a raw recruit."
"Huh?" grunted the Sergeant incredulously.
"That's the truth."
"Well, if you ain't a Lieutenant you ought to be and I'll bet my stripes that you will be. Hey, Max, you go out and see that the Lieutenant's horse is taken care of."
From upstairs they could hear the sound of voices and the scurrying of feet. Presently someone clattered down the stairs. The door swung open and the Captain entered, buttoning his coat.
"Glad to see you, my boy!" he exclaimed. "Don't bother about getting up.
You can go, Sergeant." He drew a chair up close to Tom's; then as the
Sergeant started to leave the room, he said, "Have my messenger ready to
travel. Give him the fastest horse we've got in the place."