"Why don't you hurry up this business?" cried Lysander Sprowl, angrily, coming out of the school-house. "Somebody tie a handkerchief over his eyes, and get through some time to-day."
"All right, cap'm," said Ropes. "Make ready now, boys, and take away this table in a hurry, when I give the word."
"Hold on, there! What's going on?" cried an unexpected voice, and a recruiting officer from the village made his appearance, riding up on a white horse.
The summary proceedings were stayed, and the case explained. The man listened with an air of grim official importance, his coarse red countenance betraying not a gleam of sympathy with the prisoner. Yet being the superior in rank to any officer present (Silas called him "kunnel"), besides being the only one of them all who had been regularly commissioned by the confederate government, this man held Penn's fate in his hands.
"Hanging's too good for such scoundrels!" he said, frowning at the prisoner. "As for this particular case, there's only one thing to be said: his life shall be spared on only one condition."
Carl's heart almost stood still, in his eagerness to listen. Even Penn felt a faint—a very faint—pulse of hope in his breast. The "kunnel" went on.
"Let him take his choice—either to hang, or enlist. What do you say, youngster? Which do you prefer—the death of a traitor, or the glorious career of a soldier in the confederate army?"
"It is impossible for me, sir," said Penn, in a voice of deep feeling and unalterable conviction—"it is impossible for me to bear arms against my country!"
"But the Confederate States shall be your country, and a country to be proud of!" said the man.
"I am a citizen of the United States; to the United States I owe allegiance," said Penn. "So far from being a traitor, I am willing to die rather than appear one."