The effect of Tom’s words was electric.
It was unexampled. It was a flagrant breach of discipline that under ordinary circumstances would be unforgivable. A non-commissioned officer sprang forward to thrust him back into the ranks. But the major, after a lightning glance at Tom and then at the strange officer, intervened.
“Just a minute,” he said. “Bradford, come here.”
Tom stepped up in front of the major and saluted.
The newcomer here made a protest. His face had flushed a fiery red when Tom had shouted his accusation. Then he became as white as chalk. But he pulled himself together and took on an air of assurance.
“Upon my word, Major,” he said arrogantly, “the discipline in your command is deplorable. Kindly send this young madman to the guardhouse and obey the order I gave you. You disobey it on your peril.”
He turned as though to mount his horse, but Frank was too quick for him. Like a flash he tore the reins from the orderly and held them. The strange officer made as though he would snatch them from him.
“Stop!” ordered Major Willis. “Sergeant,” he went on, addressing a non-commissioned officer, “stand ready with a squad of men. Take that orderly into custody and surround this officer. Now, Bradford,” he went on turning to Tom, “what made you say what you did?”
“Because it is true, sir,” replied Tom. “That man is an officer in the German army. I saw him when he was wearing a German uniform in the German lines and plotting with an American traitor.”
There was a stir in the group, and the accused man gave a start that was not lost on the major, who was watching him intently.