"These documents appear to be all right," he continued, after he had read the papers Rodney handed out. "Discharged rebels, eh? You don't seem to be such a desperate looking couple. What you got in your wagon?"
"Munitions of war," replied Rodney. "There's a six-pound field-piece in one of those barrels."
"That's what I thought. Get out, both of you."
Although the boys were surprised and startled by this unexpected command they were prompt to obey it.
"Now let me see what you've got in your pockets," said the sergeant. "Every scrap, mind you."
"You're welcome to read all the letters and things of that sort you can find about us," answered Rodney. "We are not simple enough to lose our permits and passes by carrying despatches the first thing."
"They're the laddie-bucks who helped the —th Michigan's boys," observed a corporal.
"I know; but business is business," said the sergeant. "And they've been in Martin's company ever since they came to town."
"That's all right. I don't object to your doing your duty, for I've been a soldier myself," said Rodney. "But I do object to being taken for a plumb dunce. You'll find no writing about us except the papers we showed you and our discharges."
But the sergeant obeyed orders, like the good soldier he was, and it was not until he had seen all their pockets turned inside out, and had felt of the seams of their coats and trousers, that he concluded they were all right and could pass on. He did not say a word about the things they had in the wagon. He was after despatches and nothing else.