Once more the general stepped to the door.
“Search these men,” he ordered, summoning in the squad of insurgent cavalry outside. Restraining a strong inclination to knock their searchers “galley west,” as Stanley put it, the Americans submitted to the ordeal. Of course, nothing was found of the will.
“Will you tell me where the document is?” demanded the general. “It is your last chance.”
“Oh, go away and don’t bother us,” said Stanley. “We want to sleep.”
“I am not addressing you, sir,” said the general, with almost a pleading note in his voice. “Remember, you are young, and life is sweet,” he added, turning to Ned; “one word and you are free.”
“All of us?”
“Yes, all of you. I will trust to your honor to deliver the document to me if you promise to do so.”
In that moment Ned was tried as men have seldom been tested. As the cunning general had pointed out, life was very sweet to him—so sweet that he had not dared to think of the last grim scene which would be enacted the next morning. But in his decision he held all their fates. By saying one word he could procure their liberation. But to do so he would have to sacrifice a girl’s happiness and rob a woman of estates that belonged to her by right. While he hesitated the same thoughts had been running through the minds of his comrades. Ned, gazing at them, saw that they were all of the same mind.
“Come!” It was the general’s voice. He was encouraged by the Dreadnought Boy’s hesitation, and put it down to a tacit acceptance of his base proposal.