"Is yo name Semo?" asked a ruffianly negro in uniform, as the old soldier opened the door "It is," replied the colonel restraining his wrath.
"Yu is summuns to kote sar forthwid."
"Why such a requisition, will you please explain," demanded the colonel.
"Don't ax fool questions white man; cum rite erlong, dis heer rit bleeges me to tak yu ded er live."
The colonel went to the stable to saddle Nelly and she was gone, Sweetheart was also gone, and so were the other horses.
He came back with the information; the negro laughed savagely in his face, and told him "dat de milintery company was er drillin in de town und he seed his hosses ergwine to de drill-ground wid de sargent und de corprul und de flagman."
The colonel looked into the face of the negro as he asked despairingly: "How am I to obey the order? I have no way of getting to your court."
"You has got ter go ded er live, I'm er gwine to gib yu one hour to git ter kote und den I'm agwine ter fetch yu wid de possum common taters," and the negro gave his horse the whip and cantered away.
Sixty-five years had stiffened the joints of the old man; his muscles and sinews were relaxed and gouty, but the order must be obeyed; no temporizing with the policy of reconstruction, no annulling an order when issued from a court.
The old gentleman halting from sheer weakness ascended the rickety stairway of the court room and he saw the power of the law, its learning, its dignity prostituted to ignoble purposes.