“What have you got there, Platner?” demanded the general, in a tone so rough, that Somers was reminded of the ogre in Jack the Giant-killer.
“The young man of whom I spoke to you this forenoon. He is a person of remarkable address, courage and skill; and is just the man you need.”
“All right; adieu, major!” added the general, bowing to the other.
Major Platner took the hint, and took himself off, leaving Somers standing alone and somewhat abashed in the presence of the great man.
“Young man!” said, or rather roared, the rebel general, as he raised his eyes from the ground, and fixed them with a half-drunken leer upon our hero.
“Sir!”
“How much whiskey can you drink without going by the board?”
Somers did not know, had never tried the experiment, and was utterly opposed to all such practices. But he desired to conciliate the tipsy general; and, if he had not been fearful of being put to the test, he would have signified his belief that he could carry off half a dozen glasses. As it was, he did not dare to belie his principles.
“Not any, sir! I never drink whiskey,” he replied, with the utmost deference in his tones.
“Hey?” gasped General M——, darting a sudden glance at the young man.