Somers joined Skinley, who was to be his companion in this morning ride. The “Texican,” as he delighted to call himself, was a stout fellow, good-humored, and immensely fond of a joke. Lynchman appeared to repose great confidence in him; otherwise he would not have sent him upon his present duty. The ruffian was armed from head to foot with rifle, pistols, and a knife, and looked like a moving arsenal. He was a formidable person for a young man like Somers to deal with, and yet it was fully evident that he had been sent by the major to prevent the “Texican” from delivering his message.
The young officer did not like the duty, for there was apparently only one way in which he could discharge it; and that was, by deliberately shooting his ugly companion. All the carnage and death he had seen in the course of the war—and he had seen a great deal of them—had not impaired his respect for human life. He could not wantonly sacrifice even an enemy. He was with this man as his friend—in disguise, it was true; but the Texan trusted him—did not regard him as a foe. To turn upon him in the moment when he suspected no danger, looked cowardly; and his chivalrous soul revolted at the act. Ruffian, rebel, traitor, as this man was, he was one of God’s creatures, made in his own image, and nothing but the severest necessity could justify the killing of him.
Thus he reasoned on the one hand; but on the other, this man was going to procure a force to shoot down the loyal soldiers of the Union; to rob the government of the money intended for the troops, upon whose earnings wives and children depended for their daily bread. But this was war—what the custom of civilized nations justified; while killing a man in cold blood was an act of treachery from which he could not but shrink. War had not debased him, for he still read his Bible, and still leaned for strength and guidance upon that arm which can lead and support all who confide in its almighty power.
Somers felt that he could not do this deed. It was too revolting, too barbarous; and yet it must be done, or others would bleed and die for his want of nerve. He could not settle the troublesome question, and he determined to defer the deed as long as he could without imperilling the safety of the pay-master and his escort.
“Well, youngster, you mought be sent out to keep me warm, I ’spose,” said Skinley, as Somers rode up to his side, after he had carefully considered the mission upon which he had obviously been sent.
“Yes, if you are cold,” replied Somers.
“I am cold, Somers. May be yer hain’t got a bottle of whiskey in yer pocket—hain’t yer?”
“I have not; I never use it.”
“So I heerd the major say; but hain’t yer got nothin’ stowed away about yer—any brandy, or sich like?”
“I have not.”