"We-l-l," said Mr. Leonard, looking his man squarely in the eye, "I am inclined to think that the cavalry staff officer is sometimes given to too much 'whitewashing,' and if an infantryman had been sent instead of a cavalryman the most discreditable affair of the late campaign would not have been, as it was, whitewashed entirely."
"If somebody had whitewashed old Differs's face he couldn't have turned a sicker shade," said Tommy Dot, the only other infantryman present at the moment. Cranston was there, so was Devers's own lieutenant, Mr. Hastings, and the thing couldn't be overlooked. The adjutant was as big and powerful a man as Devers, more so if anything, and his black eyes were snapping like coals, and his mouth was rigid as the jaws of a steel-trap as he rose and squarely confronted the irate captain, and Devers knew and knew well that more than his match was there before him.
"This is something you'll have to answer for, Mr. Leonard," said he, in tones that trembled, despite every effort at self-control. "You are witness to the language, Captain Cranston, Mr. Hastings."
"The language will be publicly repeated, sir," said Leonard, "if you desire more witnesses." But by this time the colonel at his desk in the adjoining room seemed to catch a whiff of the impending crisis, and could be heard calling his adjutant. "I'll return in a moment, sir," said Leonard, and he did, but when he returned Devers was gone.
And now the questions were, what will Devers do about it? and what will Davies say when he hears what Devers has done? There could be no fight, except on paper, for that was Devers's only field. He had gone forth in evident wrath and excitement, bidding Cranston and Hastings to follow. Hastings as his subaltern went without a word. Cranston said he had come to transact certain business and would follow when that was done. Devers was tramping up and down in front of his quarters; Hastings, with embarrassed mien and moody face, leaning, his hands in his pockets, against the fence.
"What do you think of that as an insult to the cavalry?" asked Devers of his junior, as Cranston with his usual deliberation came finally to the spot.
"I think it provoked, sir, by your slur on the infantry."
"I merely generalized," answered Devers. "He insulted both Archer and me." Archer, by the way, was the aide-de-camp in question.
"Well, then I presume Archer and you can settle it," said Cranston, coolly.
"It's evident your sympathy for your patient has blinded your sense of justice to—to the rest of the regiment. I looked for more loyalty from you, Cranston."