And the worst of it all was that the battle was fought after a treaty of peace had been made between England and the United States. But there was no means of knowing that, as there would be in these days of steam and electricity.
That night Eph had the guard in his battery, for vigilance was not relaxed, as the enemy, though beaten, had not yet retired entirely, and he was pacing up and down the parapet, and wishing he could go to sleep, after all the long excitement and labor, when he heard a challenge of a sentinel at the rear, and soon a written order was brought by an orderly, directing him to report at headquarters on the following day at ten o’clock.
This official notice made him uneasy, but he did not know anything wrong which he had done, and he knew he had served his guns well. So, when the time came for him to be relieved, he quietly lay down and slept the sleep of a tired boy, until roused for the rough camp breakfast.
At the appointed time he went to the headquarters in a plantation-house in the rear of the lines, and reported himself.
An aid-de-camp came out and said:
“General Jackson wants to see you.”
Without a word, but with much inward perturbation, Eph followed the officer into the room, where a large, rawboned man, with hair standing straight up from his scalp, and clad in general’s uniform and high boots, was sitting at a table filled with papers.
Several officers were standing about the room, and Eph recognized General Villere and one or two others he had seen before.
The general looked up sharply from his writing—he had a piercing gray-blue eye—and said:
“My lad, you have been much commended for your conduct. You are an American?”