"Such ought to be his fate, I confess. But policy dictates otherwise. He is much beloved by the army, and their revenge would be terrible."
"Do you fear their revenge, Captain Branch?"
"Not for myself, general, but for those of our army who might be taken prisoners. The federals would hang a thousand of our friends in retaliation. Besides, he is worth much more as an exchange than as a corpse."
"Your argument is logical, Captain Branch; but Hayward insulted me grossly, at one time, and my heart burns for revenge."
"True, but you can scarcely revenge yourself on such a man. Torture him, and his lip curls as if in very scorn of pain. Threaten him with death, and his proud eye flashes as he replies, 'My country will remember me!' Taunt him—spit upon him—and he does not notice it, except by a haughty air which seems to say, 'I despise you, and take nothing as an insult from those I loathe!'"
"Is there no way to humble him?" asked Price.
"No way! His proud spirit cannot be broken!"
"I will see! I shall visit him in a few moments, and if he accedes to my wishes, very well; if not, he shall be thrown into the dungeon, and there left to rot and die. As you say, sudden death would have no terrors to such a soul, but the damp and darkness of a prison cell will curb that proud spirit. Let me finish this dispatch, and then we will visit him."
Captain Hayward was sitting in his tent, his head bowed upon his hands, apparently buried in deep thought.
"Alibamo," said Hayward, raising his head, "what think you will be my fate?"