So frantic was Lucius in his demonstrations that at last he attracted the notice of the General, who after regarding him good-naturedly for a moment, broke into an amused laugh, saying, as he nodded pleasantly: ‘Thank you, my lad, for your welcome. It does one’s heart good to see such a face as yours.’ For a moment Lucius could not believe his ears. Then, as he realised that the General had indeed spoken to him, his face crimsoned with delight, and forgetting everything in his exaltation, he rushed into the road and clung to Jackson’s stirrup leather, as though to detain him by main force.
‘Take me with you, General!’ he cried at the top of his voice. ‘Take me with you. I want to fight, and they won’t let me.’
‘Hurrah!’ shouted the crowd, moved by this novel sensation, while Ephraim, glowing with pride, craned his long neck to see his hero, as he fully expected, caught up in front of the General and borne away to the wars.
‘By time!’ he muttered, ‘ain’t he jest cl’ar grit? Ain’t he noble? And he’s my friend.’ Great tears rose in his honest eyes and blurred his sight as the General reined in his charger and bent over to Lucius.
‘Take you with me, my boy?’ said Jackson kindly, laying his hand upon the fair, curly head as he spoke. ‘Take you with me? God forbid! We don’t want children amid such scenes as we are forced to go through.’
‘Why not?’ gasped Lucius. ‘I’m sixteen; I’d make one more anyway. I don’t mind being shot any more than the next man.’
‘Gloryful gracious!’ murmured Ephraim, his eyes fairly brimming over; while Jackson, bending lower still, said somewhat huskily: ‘God bless you, lad, for your true heart.’ Then straightening himself in his saddle, he cried in ringing tones to his officers: ‘When our men grow from the stuff this boy is made of, gentlemen, it is no wonder that the victory is ours.’
The crowd cheered again lustily at this, and Jackson, turning once more to Lucius, said: ‘Tell me your name, my boy. I should like to remember it.’
‘Lucius Markham, sir,’ replied the boy. ‘That is my father coming up now.’
‘What, the son of Major Markham!’ said Jackson. ‘Ha! a chip of the old block.—Major!’ he hailed, as a fine-looking bronzed officer rode by with his battery. ‘So this is your son?’