“That’s strange! And we knew all about it.”
Justin made no reply.
“And General W. is in the Valley again?” said the guerilla, interrogatively.
“Major Monck, you must be aware that I cannot converse with you upon military affairs,” said Justin.
“Humph! not even upon subjects the details of which are as familiar to us as they are to your cabinet at Washington, or to your general officers in council! Bless you, man, we have our friends in your cabinet, in your Congress, in your councils—and even in your very detective police force! Ha, ha, ha! ho, ho, ho! Why, man, we know the contents of the sealed orders with which your ships of war sail, long before the commanders who hold them have broken them open! We knew where Banks was going, though all the loyal people of the United States, and all the naval and military officers, were in a frenzy of curiosity and wonder as to the meaning of the expedition!”
“I know nothing of your means of information, Major Monck; but I do know that I cannot converse with you on the subject.”
“Quite right! I beg your pardon! Let us talk of something else. My poor fellows up there in your Old Capitol Prison at Washington! How do you treat them? give them enough to eat and drink?”
“Assuredly we do, sir. However little I may know, by experience, of our military prison discipline, I am quite certain that our prisoners are well fed, well clothed, and well sheltered,” said Justin, gravely.
“That is as it should be, especially as to the feeding. I shouldn’t mind so much your hanging one of our men now and then when you can find hanging matter against him; because hanging is short work, and soon over; and I do the like myself occasionally; but I do abhor the idea of your starving the poor fellows! Being a good feeder myself, I feel pity for a famishing man. And so long as I have food for myself and men I divide it fairly with my prisoners. I never, under any circumstances, stint my prisoner; though sometimes, in the way of retaliation for some poor devil of a bushwhacker that you have strung up to a roadside tree, and to give my boys something to look at, and keep them in a good humor, I have to hang a Yankee!—Colonel, you smoke? Try one of those cigars; you will find them excellent. Yonder Scotch sutler is a good judge of tobacco and whiskey. I never met with better Habanas or better old Mononghahela than what we took from his wagon. Again I say it was a capital stroke of good fortune, the falling upon that sutler. Try one of these cigars, Colonel.”
“Thanks—no. I seldom smoke in the morning,” answered Justin, coldly.