“The prisoner who broke his parole this morning has returned here,” said the officer.
“What!” exclaimed Jackson, “has he given himself up?”
“Yes, General; they have him in confinement, and he has asked to see you.”
“To see me, lieutenant!” said Stonewall Jackson. “That will make no difference. He is to be shot at sunrise.”
“Very well, General;” and the lieutenant turned to depart.
“Stop a moment, though,” said Jackson. “I should like to know what defence, what excuse he has to offer. Have him brought here.”
“Very well, General. But he is to be shot?”
“Certainly, sir!”
Jackson laid down his pen, and folded his arms before him on the rough board which served him as a writing-table. He had not long to wait. In less than five minutes, Ned appeared, guarded by two soldiers, his face pale but determined. He met Stonewall Jackson’s scrutinizing look clearly and fearlessly, yet respectfully. “You may withdraw,” said Jackson to the men. “Now, sir, you wish to see me. What have you to say?”