"I know a little of Aiken," said the Captain; "I was there not a year ago."
Naturally the remark was of interest to me.
"When was it?" I asked.
"It was in August, of last year. You remember, Frank, I was recruiting for the reorganized First."
"August of what year?" I asked.
"August eighteen sixty-one, very naturally."
"Gentlemen," said I, "bear with me, I beg you. I am not myself. I am going through deep waters, I know nothing."
"We know," said the doctor; "and we are going to see you through." Then he added: "Captain Haskell came from Abbeville. He has men in his company from several of the districts; possibly some of them would know you, and you might know them."
I did not want to know them. I said nothing. The doctor's suggestion was not to my liking. Why should I join these men? What, to me, was this captain? What was I to him? So far as I know, I had no interest in this war. So far as I could know myself, my tastes did not seem to set strongly in the direction of soldiering. Those men could get along without my help. Why could I not find a different occupation? Anything would be better than getting killed in a cause I did not understand. Then, too, I was threatened with the wretched condition of an object of common curiosity. If I was going to be gazed at by this officer and his men,--if I was to be regarded as a freak,--my way certainly did not lie with theirs.
"Frank," said the Captain's brother, "would it hurt Jones to go out of the tent for a moment?"