The two rough soldiers, unused to the society of women, were far more awkward and constrained than the young woman, but they enjoyed the big fire and the comfortable supper none the less on that account. When, to employ Mrs. Powers’s vernacular, “the things were put away,” they brought forth their pipes; and they felt so contented that Captain Moseley reproved himself by suggesting that it might be well for them to proceed on their journey up the mountain. But their hosts refused to listen to such a proposal.
“Not so,” exclaimed Uncle Billy; “by no means. Why, if you knowed this hill like we all, you’d hoot at the bar’ idee of gwine further after nightfall. Besides,” the old man went on, looking keenly at his daughter, “ten to one you won’t find Spurlock.”
Polly had been playing with her hair, which was caught in a single plait and tied with a bit of scarlet ribbon. When Spurlock’s name was mentioned she used the plait as a whip, and struck herself impatiently in the hand with the glossy black thong, and then threw it behind her, where it hung dangling nearly to the floor.
“Now I tell you what, boys,” said Uncle Billy, after a little pause; “I’d jes like to know who is at the bottom of this Spurlock business. You all may have took a notion that he’s a no-’count sorter chap—an’ he is kinder puny; but what does the army want with a puny man?”
“It’s the law,” said Captain Moseley, simply, perceiving that his mission was clearly understood. “He is old enough and strong enough to serve in the army. The law calls for him, and he’ll have to go. The law wants him now worse than ever.”
“Yes,” said private Chadwick, gazing into the glowing embers—“lots worse’n ever.”
“What’s the matter along of him now?” inquired Mrs. Powers, knocking the ashes from her pipe against the chimney jamb.
“He’s a deserter,” said Chadwick.
“Tooby shore!” exclaimed Mrs. Powers. “An’ what do they do wi’ ’em, then?”
For answer Private Chadwick passed his right hand rapidly around his neck, caught hold of an imaginary rope, and looked upwards at the rafters, rolling his eyes and distorting his features as though he were strangling. It was a very effective pantomime. Uncle Billy shook his head and groaned, Aunt Crissy lifted her hands in horror, and then both looked at Polly. That young lady had risen from her chair and made a step toward Chadwick. Her eyes were blazing.