Whereupon the captain, fifteen years of age, took the matter up.
“Let private Bannister step to the front,” he commanded.
The accused boy fell out of the rear rank, passed to the left of the line, and so on to the front.
“Speak for yourself, Bob,” he said. “You’re charged with being a traitor.”
“It’s not true,” replied the boy quietly but firmly, his face flushing and paling by turns.
“Well, what about your father?” cried Sam. “Ain’t he said ’t this war’s a failure and ’t Abe Lincoln’s a fraud?”
“An’ ain’t he the biggest copperhead in Mount Hermon township?” piped up a small boy on the extreme left.
Whereupon there was another chorus of denunciation, and a half-dozen boys shouted at once: “We don’t want any son of a copperhead in this company!”
“Shut up, you fellows!” exclaimed the captain, “or I’ll have every mother’s son of you arrested for breach of discipline, an’ shut you up in the guard-house on bread an’ water, every one of you. Now, let’s get at this thing orderly. We’ll give Bob a fair hearing an’ then decide whether we want him or not.”
“Yes,” added Sam, “le’s court-martial ’im. That’s the way to settle his hash.”