“Don’t squirm so, corporal,” Bill said, as he bound the knots securely, with his knee upon the back of the stranger, whom he had thrown upon his face. “Don’t squirm so like an eel and I’ll be done the quicker. I calkerlate to tie you so you can’t git away, and you may as well hold on. Got kinder delicate hands, haint you? Never done nothin’, I guess, but lick niggers and shute your betters. There, you may stan’ up now if you want tew.”
The young man struggled to his feet, saying, proudly:
“What do you intend doing next, sir?”
“What do I intend doin’?” Bill replied, with imperturbable gravity. “I intend leadin’ you by this string inter camp, and showin’ you up for to’pence a sight. What d’ye s’pose I intended doin’?”
The young man made one more desperate struggle to free himself, but the twine only cut into his flesh, making the matter worse, so he finally submitted to his fate, and suffered Bill to take him where he listed. Bill was in no hurry to get to camp. He rather enjoyed being alone with his prisoner, and leading him to a little thicket he made him sit down, and placing one of his feet upon him he began to ask him innumerable questions,—what was his name, where did he come from, what company was he in, and so on, to none of which did the stranger vouchsafe a reply.
With a haughty look upon his handsome face, he maintained a rigid silence, while Bill continued:
“Needn’t talk unless you want to. Speech is free with us, you know; but seein’ you won’t tell who you be, maybe you wouldn’t mind hearing my geneology. It’ll make you feel better, mabby, to know my reputation and standin’ in society. Corporal, did you ever hear of a Yankee, a real live mudsill Yankee, such as Southern gentlemen feel above fightin’ with? Wall, I’m that critter. What do you think of me, take me as a hull?”
The stranger groaned in disgust, and Bill continued:
“Them cords hurt you, I guess. Like enough I’ll ease ’em up a trifle, if you say so. I ain’t hard-hearted, if I be rough as a nutmeg-grater. Shall I loosen ’em so’s not to hurt them soft, baby hands of yourn?”
“Thank you, sir. I don’t mind it in the least,” was the soldier’s answer, though all the while the coarse twine was cutting cruelly into the tender flesh.