Somers was bewildered by the scene before him; but he readily understood that his friend was compromising with unfavorable circumstances, and he did what he could to help the illusion, though he did not know what De Banyan had said or done to create such remarkably good fellowship between himself and such wretched outlaws. He sat down at the table and ate heartily of the bacon and bread, which were very acceptable, for our travellers had eaten nothing since breakfast.
“Here’s to the health of Jeff Davis!” said the man at the opposite end of the table, who appeared to be the commander of the squad. “All up.”
The guerillas rose to their feet, De Banyan with them, with a glass in his hand.
“All up!” exclaimed the major, heartily.
Somers rose then, with a glass of water in his hand, which a black woman in attendance had brought him; but he had no more intention of drinking the health of Jeff Davis, even in a glass of water, than he had of supporting the arch rebel with his sword.
“President Davis,” said the leader.
“President—Lincoln,” added the major, dropping his voice as he uttered the last word.
“President—Lincoln,” repeated Somers, in the same manner.
“One more!” shouted the commander of the squad, as he filled his glass again; and his example was followed by all present. “Here’s confusion to the Yankees!”
“Confusion to the Yankees!” repeated the other guerillas.