With beating heart, Somers waited for the further action of his resolute companion. It was the most critical period of his life, it seemed to him, especially as he did not fully comprehend the purpose of De Banyan. Only a moment elapsed, but it was long enough to be a week, before the owner of Jenny returned to the stable.
“Peters! What are you about?” shouted he angrily. “I shall never get off at this rate. Peters!”
Peters was not in condition to answer the summons at that moment. Somers hoped he was not dead; but he might as well have been dead, so far as speaking was concerned.
“Peters!” shouted the officer again, with a string of Southern Confederacy oaths; “where are you? What are you about?”
Of course, the orderly could not answer; and his silence only added to the rage of his master, who continued to swear in a manner which must have disgusted the gentle Jenny, and the other respectable horse standing on the stable-floor.
The officer rushed out of the stable, and the heaviness of his step indicated the state of his mind. He had gone to look for Peters; but, as Peters was not outside, he must be inside; and the officer entered again. He now walked towards the stairs leading to the loft.
“Peters!” he continued to roar as he rushed up the stairs. “Peters! this is your last day’s service with me!”
But the poor orderly was unable to remove the stain which rested upon his fidelity. He still held his peace; still silently submitted to the unjust imputations on his character. The officer landed in the loft just as Captain de Banyan rose to receive him.
“Who are you?” demanded he, as the stout form of the captain confronted him.
“Your most obedient servant to command,” replied De Banyan.