"Coffee's ordered for 12.30. Reckon they'll be along very soon," replied the nettled functionary.
"What say you, Brandon? Shall we try it?"
"Most assuredly; and I think it can be done."
Four pairs of anxious, eager eyes watched that train of "damyankees" as it came rushing into the station sharp at 12.30. A crowd of sullen-looking "white trash" had gathered, a larger knot of curious and eager darkies, to see the sight. The engine whizzed past the platform; then two passenger-cars, from every window of which protruded blue-capped, dust-begrimed soldier heads; sentries stood at the doors, and only as the last car—a third passenger-car—came opposite us did the train stop. A sharp, business-like young fellow, in dust-covered fatigue dress with infantry shoulder-straps and cap, sprang out.
"That coffee ready?" he asked, bounding at the agent at once.
"Wall, I s'pose so," drawled the party addressed, as though desirous of giving all the annoyance he could.
"If you want your money you'd better know, and lively too. We've no time to waste. Tumble out here, Sergeant Triggs. Bring six men while this party is waking up."
Then as his men went into the kitchen to bring out the steaming caldrons, I asked if I could see the commanding officer on immediate and important business.
"Certainly, sir; rear car. Come this way."
We followed him, Harrod and I; found the forward half of the third car filled, as were the other two, with the rank and file. At the rear end were half a dozen sleepy, dusty, and disgusted-looking gentlemen.