"Now, just one word, major——" began Elam.
"Show him out!" repeated the commandant.
The orderly laid hold of the young hunter's arm and tried to pull him toward the door, but couldn't budge him an inch. Elam stood as firmly as one of the pickets that composed the stockade.
"Just one word, major, and then I'll leave off and quit a-pestering you," he exclaimed. "If you won't make them two fellows give back the plunder they have stolen from me, you won't raise any row if I go to work and get it back in my own way, will you?"
"No, I don't care how you get it, or whether you get it at all or not," the major almost shouted.
"Oh, I'll get it, you can bet your bottom dollar on it. And if you hear of somebody getting hurt while I am getting of it, you mustn't blame me."
"Put him out!" roared the major.
The orderly laid hold of Elam's arm with both hands and finally succeeded in forcing him into the hall and closing the door after him, but the closing of the door did not shut out the sound of his voice. Elam had set out to relieve his mind, and he did it; and as there was no one else to talk to, he addressed his remarks to the orderly.
"The major needn't blame me if some of them fellows gets hurt," said he. "I tried to set the law to going and couldn't do it. I'll never ask a soldier to do anything for me again. I can take care of myself. I don't see what you fellows come out here for anyway, except it is to wear out good clothes and keep grub from spoiling. That's all the use you be."
"Well, go on now, and don't bother any more," said the orderly good-naturedly. "The old man said he didn't care how you got the things back, and what more do you want?"