“Alive? Well, if you’d seen the way he took this!” And the Lieutenant shook his canteen up beside his ear, as if to gauge its remaining contents; then held it to Jacquelin again.
“Have another pull? No? All right—when you want it. You aren’t the first reb’s had a swig at it.”
Then he repeated to his superior, a tall, handsome fellow, what Jacquelin had told him as to his name and destination. In an instant the Captain had sprung from his horse.
“Jacquelin Gray! Red Rock!—By Jove! It can’t be!” He stared down at the man on the ground.
“Do you mean to say that you live at a place called ‘Red Rock’—a great plantation, with a big rock by a burial-ground, and a red stain on it, said to be an Indian’s blood?”
Jacquelin nodded.
“Well by ——! What’s the matter with you? Where have you been? What are you dressed this way for?—I mean an old plantation where there was a wedding—or a wedding-party, about five years ago—?” he broke out, as if it were impossible to believe it. “And—a little girl, named Blair Something, sang?”
Jacquelin nodded.
“Yes, that’s the place—Miss Blair Cary. But who are—? What do you know about——?”
“Well, I’m— Here, Reely, call Sergeant O’Meara; tell him to send the ambulance here directly,” interrupted the Captain. He turned back to Jacquelin.