“Do you want it again?”
“No, sah, Mr. Soldier, no, sah.”
“They say over at the jail that you said it was for me; that you wanted to break my head with it?”
“Me?” whimpered Amos. “No, sah, Mr. Soldier. Dey’s story-tellers. ’Deed dey is. Please, Marse Morey,” he wailed, “don’ let ’em bring me to de jail agin. I ain’t mad at no one, ’bout nothin’. Please, Mr. Soldier!”
Lieutenant Purcell and Morey could no longer restrain their laughter. Amos was forgiven, assured that he had already been punished for his desperate resolve and turned over to Lieutenant Purcell’s domestics for supper and lodging.
[CHAPTER XV]
TWO IRONS IN THE FIRE.
When Major Squiers arrived he greeted Morey cordially.
“Lieutenant Purcell and Mr. Wright, between them, have given me a most flattering account of you, my son. I wish we had a few such boys in the corps.”