The company, it seemed, had come up from the city the day before and had encamped a little below the station, and was marching to Brutusville, where it was to be posted.
Julius, General Legaie’s old butler, met them near the court-house and plunged out in the mud and wrung Jacquelin’s hand, thanking God for his return.
The old butler was on the lookout for his master, who had not come home yet, and about whom he was beginning to be very uneasy. The General had gone South somewhere “to keep on fightin’,” Julius told Jacquelin, and he invited him to come by and spend the night, and offered to go on himself and let his mother know he had come. The old fellow, in his best clothes—a high hat and an old blue coat with brass buttons—and with his best manners, caused much amusement to the soldiers, and Lieutenant Thurston undertook to tease him.
“You haven’t any master now,” he said.
The old servant looked at him.
“I ain’t? Does you think I’se a free nigger?” he asked, sharply, “‘Cause I ain’t!”
“Yes, but I mean we’ve taken your master prisoner.”
“You is?” He looked at him again keenly. “Nor, you ain’t. It’ll teck a bigger man’n you to teck my master prisoner—And he ain’ big as you nuther,” he said, with a snap of his eyes. “He ain’t de kind dat s’renders.”
“We’ll have to stand in on this together,” said the little Lieutenant across to Jacquelin, as the laugh went round; and then to Julius, with a wave of his hand toward Jacquelin, “Well, what do you say to that gentleman’s having surrendered?”
The old darky was quick enough, however.