“Americans!” echoed the soldier, and then starting back and dashing the silver Edward had given him to the ground. “Have I,” he said, “served my king four and twenty years, to be bribed by an American boy at last? has it come to this, Richard Barton?”
“Richard Barton!” echoed Edward in his turn.
“Yes, my young man, Richard Barton; a poor name, but an honest one, thank God.”
“Richard Barton!” again repeated Edward. “But it cannot be the Richard Barton I mean.”
“I don't know who you mean, sir, but I shall take care and report you to my officer, and clear myself of all blame.”
“Do not be so hasty, my good friend,” said Edward, with an expression of innocence and good nature, that went far to remove the honest soldier's suspicions; “it is true I have troubled you with a great many questions, but I had no motive but curiosity; we yankees, you know, are a curious race. Come, I shall hold you to your agreement; take up the money and go along with me.”
“No—no—I never will touch the money; but I will go with you, there can be no harm in that.”
“Well,” said Edward, picking up the pieces, “if you won't take it, I know a Richard Barton that will, and he shall have it too; and now, if I was not afraid you would take me to the guard-house, I would put some more questions to you.”
“Oh, put them and welcome, young man; now I know that you are an American, I can use my discretion in my answers. You do not look as if you could do wrong yourself, or tempt another: but I have lived long enough to know that it is not all gold that glitters, though I think nothing but true metal can bear the stamp that is on your face.”
“We are friends again then, are we? Can you tell me where the 40th regiment is stationed now?”