"I must beg the pardon of the Court, Colonel," he began cautiously, "for not appearing in my uniform. As it is in St. Louis I respectfully ask to be excused to-day from wearing it."
The old Colonel scowled. It was just like a young fool to wish to sit in solemn judgment on a fellow officer—in his shirt sleeves. If he had asked to be excused from serving on the Court—yes—he could accept his excuse and let him go. But this insolence was unbearable. The Colonel glanced over the Court before putting the question to a vote. Smith was his enemy. Whichever way he voted as President, the Major could be depended on to go against his decision. There was a feud between those two hot-tempered fire-eaters which had lasted for years. He glanced at his future son-in-law with a smile of assured victory. Tom Smith would vote against him, but the trembling youngster who had quailed before him that night asking for his daughter's hand was practically in the family. He smiled at the certainty of downing Smith once more.
In a voice, whose tones left nothing to the imagination of the presumptuous Second Lieutenant, the Colonel growled:
"Gentlemen, we are asked to allow an officer to sit in the formal judgment of a court-martial without uniform—I put the question to a vote and cast mine. No!"
"I vote yes!" shouted the Major.
The Colonel did not condescend to look his way. He knew what that vote was before he heard it. He bent his piercing eyes on his future son-in-law:
"Lieutenant Davis?"
There was just a moment's hesitation. The Lieutenant smiled at his embarrassed young fellow officer and mildly answered:
"I think, Colonel, in view of the distance to St. Louis, we may excuse the young man for the first offense—I vote—yes."
The old Colonel stared at him in speechless amazement. Smith grinned.