Francis said, "It's half of Virginia!"
Blake murmured, "Dust to dust—a queer reminder."
"Oh, shut up!" cried Francis.
The young engineer laughed and said to himself, "If Aunt Ann could see me. It's like being tarred and feathered. See you soon again, I hope, Mr. Blake. I am deep in your debt." They passed out of sight. No one remained but the bridge-guard.
The engineer sat down and devoted his entire energies to the difficult task of pulling off boots full of mud and water. Meanwhile as the provost-officers rode back over the pontoons Francis said, "I remember that man, Penhallow, at the Bloody Angle. He was the only man I saw who wasn't fight-crazy, he insisted on my going to the rear. You know I was bleeding like a stuck pig. It was between the two attacks. I said, 'Oh, go to H—-!' He said, 'There is no need to go far.' I am sure he did not remember me. A rather cool hand—West Point, of course."
"What struck me," said Blake, "was that he did not swear."
"Then," said Francis, "he is the only man in the army who would have failed to damn those grinning troopers."
"Except Grant," said Blake.
"So they say.—It's hard to believe, but I suppose the Staff knows. Wonder if Lee swears. Two army commanders who don't swear? It's incredible!"
As Penhallow, left alone, tugged at a reluctant boot, he heard, "Good
Lord! Master John, that's my business."