“Yes, sir; I give you that in exchange for my liberty.”
“Wall, now, kind a generous, ain’t you? But I want you should fling in something to clinch the bargain. A chap of your cloth is of more valley than three hundred. What else have you got, corporal?” and laying the watch carefully upon the grass, Bill’s hand a second time sought the stranger’s pocket, bringing out an expensive and exquisitely wrought quizzing-glass.
“Wall, now, if these ain’t the curisest spetacles!” he exclaimed. “I’ll jest see how a Reb looks through ’em,” and adjusting them to his eyes, Bill walked demurely around his prisoner, and then standing at a little distance inspected him minutely, as if he had been some curious monster. “Hanged if I can see in ’em, but mabby they’ll suit the old woman to hum,” he said, placing the glass beside the watch, and adding: “Watch and spetacles ain’t enough, corporal. What more have you got? Ain’t there a ring on one of your hands?”
“Yes, a costly diamond,” was the faint response, and Bill ere long was trying in vain to push it over his large joints.
“It don’t fit me, but I guess ’twill my gal, when I git one,” he said, laying that, too, with the watch and eyeglass.
A silver tobacco-box and handsome cigar-case followed next, the stranger groaning mentally, as a faint suspicion of Bill’s real intentions crossed his mind. There remained now but one more article, the dearest of all the young Rebel possessed, and the perspiration started from every pore as he felt the rough hand again within his pockets, and knew he could not prevent it.
“Oh, no, no, no, not that! Spare me that. Do not open it, please!” and the haughty tone was changed to one of earnest supplication, as Bill drew forth a small daguerrean case, and placed his dirty thumb upon the spring.
Something in the stranger’s voice made him pause a moment, but anything like delicacy of feeling was unknown to the rough Bill, and the next instant he was feasting his rude gaze upon the features which the Rebel youth had guarded almost religiously, even from his equals in camp. How beautiful that girlish face was, with its bright laughing eyes, and soft chestnut curls falling in such profusion around the childish brow, and upon the smooth, white neck. Even Bill was awed into silence, while a feeling of bewilderment crept over him as if he had seen that face before, and mingled with this feeling came remembrances of that last day at home, when fair hands, which, ere he was a soldier, would have scorned to touch such as he, had waved him an adieu.
“Whew-ew!” he whistled, at last. “Ain’t she pretty, though? Your sweetheart, I guess,” and he leered at the stranger, who made him no reply; only the lips quivered, and in the dark eyes there was a gathering moisture; but when Bill asked, “May I have this, too, if I’ll let you go?” the stranger answered, promptly:
“Never! I’ll die a thousand deaths before I’ll part with that! Liberty is not worth that price. Give me back the picture, and I’ll go with you willingly wherever you please. Do give it back,” he added, in an agony of fear, as Bill continued gazing at it, and making his remarks.