They were on the banks of the river now, and the commander dashed up. "What in hell's the matter now?" he demanded.
"Hit's the river done it," put in the mountaineer, to save his friend the need of words. "Baptized thar."
"What? What in the devil are you talking about? What in——"
He was looking at Griffith, but Lengthy broke in again with his perfectly level and emotionless voice. "Baptized thar, I sez. Few-words-comprehends-th'—"
"Will you dry up? You infernal— What does this mean?" He turned again to Griffith, who had regained his self-control. The commander usually acted upon him as a refrigerator, so incapable was he of understanding human emotion that reached beyond the limits of irritability.
"General," he began, slowly, "I have just arranged with Mr. Patterson for him to take my place as Government Guide. I can go with you no farther. That house over there in the distance"—he stretched out his hand—"used to be my old home. I love the people who live here—all about here. This river——"
A volley of oaths interrupted Griffith. The command had come up, and the staff-officers sat listening and waiting. The General was changing his first outburst into arguments. Griffith met them quite calmly. It seemed a long time now since he had found the relief he felt. It did not seem possible that it was only ten minutes ago that it had come to him.
"This man knows the country even better than I do, General. He is willing to go—to take my place—and he is perfectly loyal—loyal to me. He will—what Mr. Lincoln wanted was that the work should be done, and done by one he could trust—it was not that he wanted me to do it. I will stake my honor on this man's fidelity. He—" The word "deserter," mingled with threats, struck Griffith's ear; he did not pause to analyze it. "Mr. Lincoln told me that I was to return to him whenever I——"
"God damn Mr. Lincoln! I am in command of these troops! Mr. Lincoln didn't know he was giving me a couple of lunatics to deal with! If you attempt to leave you will be shot as a deserter, I tell you! I'll do it myself, by God!" Griffith's head dropped against his breast. He dismounted slowly and handed his bridle to the mountaineer. Lengthy hooked it over his arm and waited. Mr. Davenport deliberately knelt by the bank of the river, with his face toward the old home.
"Shoot. I will go no farther!" he said, and closed his eyes.