‘What!’ scoffed the colonel. ‘Nineteen do you call him, with a monkey face like that?’
‘Shave him, then, and you’ll see,’ answered Lucius, at which remark the soldiers roared, though the boy was perfectly serious.
‘Silence!’ commanded the colonel, going on to observe caustically: ‘Since when have the rebels—I beg your pardon; I have no doubt that a Southern gentleman would prefer that I should speak of Confederates—since when, then, have the Confederates employed boys to ascertain the movements of the National troops?’
The insolence of his tone fired Luce’s blood, and he answered scornfully: ‘I do not know. Perhaps if you had not been so busy running away from them for the last three weeks, you might have been able to discover for yourself.’
Now, a more unfortunate remark Lucius could not just then have made; for it so happened that in the series of retrograde movements in which the Federals had lately been indulging in consequence of Jackson’s smashing flank attacks, the colonel had taken a somewhat too prominent part. Indeed in the last melee, while gallantly leading his men out of action—very far ahead of them—he had somehow become separated from his command, and when the balloon descended, had been making his way back to the Federal lines along with a number of stragglers, whom he had picked up en route. So now, when Lucius, amid the suppressed laughter of the men, made his ill-timed observation, the doughty warrior’s feelings overflowed, and his fury knew no bounds.
‘I’ll teach you to insult your betters, you rebel scum,’ he shouted. ‘I heard of a balloon having been lost from our lines on the Potomac. That’s it, I’ll take my oath. You’ve stolen it for your poverty-stricken, rascally, rebel friends. That’s what you’ve done.’
‘We didn’t,’ protested Lucius, edging in a word. ‘He made it.’ He indicated Ephraim.
‘Did he?’ stormed the colonel. ‘Where did he learn to make balloons, the hairy-faced baboon? Anyhow, if you did or if you didn’t steal it, I’ve proof enough of your object, and I’ll show you how to dance upon nothing. Cut a couple of ropes from that balloon and string these cubs up to a tree!’ he shouted to the men.
Lucius paled swiftly, but the colour rushed back again into his face at once, and he stood with folded arms, scornfully fronting the colonel. Ephraim, however, took a step forward.
‘Ye dassn’t do it, ye dirty fire-eater,’ he cried. ‘Ye dassn’t do it, ’thout’n a trial or nuthin’. Take us ter the ginrul, boys; he’ll hear what we’ve got ter say.’