He might have lived on thus indefinitely, but one day, over a lazy roll of the dice, another black man took advantage of his known good nature. And Fagan, the kindly, felt a sudden, blinding impulse to strike. The huge black fist shot out like lightning under the impulse of the supple, writhing muscles, and the other man dropped with a broken neck.
Then Fagan came to the Army, and the Army received him with joy. The surgeon's eye glistened with an artist's fervor as he thumped and kneaded the great, perfect animal, and a wise old recruiting sergeant guided the pen for him to sign his name. Thus he was made welcome in that most catholic of societies, which cares not a whit for your past, your present, or your future, so long as you have mind and body sufficient to obey orders.
But even this slight requirement was much for Fagan. His careless, soapless, buttonless existence was a poor training for the rigid minutiæ of military life. And he was unfortunate in his immediate commander. Most of the officers of the Fifty-fourth were of the South, able to deal firmly yet kindly with the big black children committed to their charge. But Sharpe was new to the Army, the son of a small tradesman in the North, and had an exalted reverence for the Regulations, and his own rank. So when he saw that the buttons of Fagan's blouse were uncleaned, one morning at guard-mounting, he did not announce the fact impersonally, as an officer should.
And Fagan, in serene ignorance of any law against immediate explanation, replied with boyish, surprised chuckle, "Lawszee, Lootenant, I raickon I plumb forgot them buttons."
"That's enough," snapped the officer. "Sergeant, put this man under arrest."
Fagan followed to the guard-house, mildly expostulant. "He suah'd orter give me a fairah show," he said to the sergeant. "I was jus' a gwine to tell him. I didn't mean no hahm. All I wanted was a fayah show."
"All I wanted was a fayah show."
Thus began a series of petty persecutions. Fagan, with his good nature, tried his best, but the Lieutenant would not be pleased. He was not a bad sort in intent, simply a common, weak, official bully. Such men usually resign early, or if they linger on in the service, learn to shun getting in front of their men when there is firing.