CHAPTER XVIII. — THE REPUTATION OF A WOMAN
LIKE a flash occurred to me the only possible means by which we might escape open discovery—an instant disclosure of my supposed rank, coupled with indignant protest. Already, believing me merely some private soldier straying out of bounds with a woman of the camp as companion, he had thrown himself from the saddle to investigate. Whatever was to be done must be accomplished quickly, or it would prove all too late. To think was to act. Stepping instantly in front of the shrinking girl and facing him, I said sternly:
“I do not know who you may chance to be, sir, nor greatly care, yet your words and actions imply an insult to this lady which I am little disposed to overlook. For your information permit me to state, I am Colonel Curran, Sixth Ohio Light Artillery, and am not accustomed to being halted on the road by every drunken fool who sports a uniform.”
He stopped short in complete surprise, staring at me through the darkness, and I doubted not was perfectly able to distinguish the glint of buttons and gleam of braid.
“Your pardon, sir,” he ejaculated at last. “I mistook you for some runaway soldier. But I failed to catch your words; how did you name yourself?”
“Colonel Curran, of Major-General Halleck's staff.”
“The hell you are! Curran had a full gray beard a month ago.”
He took a step forward, and before I could recover from the first numbing shock of surprise was peering intently into my face.
“Damn it!” he cried, tugging viciously at a revolver in his belt, “I know that face! You are the measly Johnny Reb I brought in day before yesterday.”