Lieutenant Coleman already had his hand in the pocket of his canvas trousers, and, bringing out two double-eagles, he handed them to the rosy-faced proprietor as a first payment. Hooper jumped up from his seat and took the two yellow coins in his hands, and chinked them together, and tossed them about as if he feared they might burn his palms.
"Durned if hit ain't United States gold money, Tom," he exclaimed, passing one of the coins to Zachary, who was equally excited. "We hain't viewed that kind o' money for seven years in these parts, have we, Tom?"
Tom indorsed his companion's statement in pretty strong language, and Lieutenant Coleman hastened to say that if the money was not satisfactory, they could probably agree upon some rate of exchange. At this point of the conversation, the two mountaineers exchanged some words in a whisper, and the soldiers believed they were agreeing upon the discount between United States and Confederate money. To fill up this awkward break in the conversation, Lieutenant Coleman began again to express his gratitude to his rescuers.
"Now, hold on, captain," exclaimed Hooper, facing about. "Whatsoever me and Tom has done, we have done willin', and nobody willin'er, and we're goin' to stand by ye to the end; but we ain't goin' no further in this business till you tell us how ye got here. The way we study hit out, you ain't treatin' me and Tom fair."
"Pardon me, my good friends," said Lieutenant Coleman. "I had no intention of being rude. We came here in the summer of 1864, in the line of our duty as Union soldiers, and when the war ended with the success of the Confederates—"
"What!" cried the two men together, gasping in amazement at what they heard. "And the Union was destroyed," continued Lieutenant Coleman. "And the Capitol fell into the hands of the Confederates." "And slavery was restored," exclaimed Bromley. "And the flag was disgraced and robbed of its stars," put in Philip, with such voice as he could command.
The two mountaineers stood open-mouthed for a moment, and then they burst into peals of laughter. "Whoop!" cried the rosy-faced man, slapping his leg and throwing his wool hat on the floor as if it had been a brickbat. "If that ain't the jolliest thing I ever heard, and hit's kind o' serious-like, too! Why, men, there ain't no Confederacy. Hit's the old United States, from Canada to the Gulf of Mexico, and from the Atlantic Ocean clear across to the Pacific."
"And General Sherman—" gasped Philip.
"He's gineral of the army up in Washington right now, and Gineral Grant is President," cried the rosy-faced man.
Somehow the interior of the house grew vague and misty, as if a sea-fog had swept in through the windows. Everything and everybody danced and reeled about, until the soldiers fell away from the embrace of their deliverers, quite exhausted by the excitement and the news they had heard.