“Why couldn’t they put soldiers into this Bureau if they had to have it, instead of these skunks and wolves?” snorted the General.
“Well, some of them are a little off in the odour of their records at home, I’ll admit,” said the Major with a dry smile. “But this is the day of the carrion crow, General. You know they always follow the armies. They attack the wounded as well as the dead. You have my heartfelt sympathy. You have dark days ahead! The death of Mr. Lincoln was the most awful calamity that could possibly have befallen the South. I’m sorry. I’ve learned to like you Southerners, and to love these beautiful skies, and fields of eternal green. It’s my country and yours. I fought you to keep it as the heritage of my children.”
The General’s eyes filled with tears and the two men silently clasped each other’s hands.
“Send in your accounts by your clerk. I’ll look them over to-night and I’ve no doubt the Honourable Reverend Ezra Perkins will see a new light with the rising of tomorrow’s sun.”
And Ezra did see a new light. As the Major cursed him in all the moods and tenses he knew, Ezra thought he smelled brimstone in that light.
“I assure you, Major, I’m sorry the thing happened. My assistant did all the work on these papers. I hadn’t time to give them personal attention,” the Agent apologised in his humblest voice.
“You’re a liar. Don’t waste your breath.”
Ezra bit his lips and pulled his Mormon whiskers.
“Write out your decision now—this minute—confirming these accounts in double quick order, unless you are looking for trouble.”
And Ezra hastened to do as he was bidden.