“Yes, Mr. President, very drunk. They procured whiskey and drank a great deal on the train coming down to Washington. When I left the car this morning they were sound asleep.”
“What are their names? To what command are they attached?”
“I do not know. My name is Rhett Bannister, and my home is at Mount Hermon in Pennsylvania.”
“I see.”
The President rose, went out into the telegraph office, and dictated a message. When he returned and sat down again he said:—
“I’ve sent out orders to have those men hunted up, arrested, and remanded for trial. The soldier on duty who shows cowardice in the face of the enemy may have some excuse for his conduct. But the soldier on duty who shows cowardice in the face of John Barleycorn must reap the full reward of his cowardice.”
He set his lips tightly together, and let his clenched hand fall on the table-top. After a moment he continued:—
“So you are what they call up in Pennsylvania a copperhead?”
“I have been so designated, Mr. President.”
“Yes. Well, now, I’ve been wanting to see some of you copperheads and talk with you, and find out from you, if I can, why you oppose the war, and seek opportunities to stab the administration in the back. I’ve been wanting to know. Maybe this meeting is providential. Maybe I can learn something from you that will help us all. I’ve never run across one of you before, face to face, like this. Vallandigham’s the only one I know much about, and he’s so fiery and oratorical I can’t quite get head or tail to what he says. What is your creed, anyway?”