“The general is here. He must have seen what I did. What good fortune! My promotion is sure.”
But what General Loudon said was this:
“Lieutenant Hamilton, your conduct to-day is as much deserving of a court martial as any I ever saw on the field. You have not only unnecessarily endangered the lives of your men—a crime on the part of an officer—but you have come near endangering the whole success of our movement. Your place after this will be with neither the vanguard nor the rear-guard, but with the main body, where you can do as little harm by your rashness as possible.”
Gavin’s look of triumph changed to one of utter bewilderment, and then to one of mingled rage and horror. General Loudon, without another word, rode off. Gavin, half choking, cried to St. Arnaud:
“But you know what I went after? My first sergeant was shot through both legs—the fellow was in the lead—and he cried out to me to come and save him. Just then I heard the bugle, but could I leave that poor fellow there to die?”
“Certainly not; and this shall be known; but you were very rash in the beginning; so come on, and wash your face the first time you come to water.”
The rest of that day was like an unhappy dream to Gavin. They were again on the march by three o’clock, and at bivouac they had rejoined the main body.
Their camp that night was well beyond Olmutz, and led them again toward the mountains. When all the arrangements for the night were made, and their tent was pitched, St. Arnaud, who had been absent for half an hour, returned and looked in. He saw Gavin sitting on the ground in an attitude of utter dejection.
“Come,” cried St. Arnaud gayly; “you take the general too seriously; he was angry with you, and so was I, for that matter; but he knows all the facts now.”
“It is of no consequence,” replied Gavin sullenly. But when St. Arnaud urged him, he rose and joined him for a stroll about the camp. As they were walking along a little path that led along the face of a ravine, they saw, in the clear twilight of the June evening, General Loudon, quite unattended, approaching them. Gavin would have turned off, but St. Arnaud would not let him. As they stood on the side of the path, respectfully to let the general pass, he stopped and said in the rather awkward way which was usual with him: