I turned my head to speak to my French friend, but found him gone; and then, turning back again, found the man I had been talking to had also vanished. I could not understand how he had disappeared so quickly, and this added to my suspicion that he was not straight.
When I again saw the French soldier, Maurice, I said, “Where did you go so quickly? You were standing near me and in an instant had disappeared.”
He shrugged his shoulders and replied, “It would not be, as your people say, ‘just the thing,’ to listen to your conversation with another gentleman.”
Knowing something of a Frenchman’s idea of politeness that seemed to explain his sudden leaving.
As soon as I got a chance from my duties, I started to see Jot. He had been discharged from the hospital, I had learned, but I had not seen him since he came back on duty. Passing the guard I stood before Lieutenant Nickerson and saluted as stiffly as possible, and waited until addressed by my superior officer. Jot returned the salute and, coming up to me, put his hands on my shoulder, saying, “No formalities, Davie, now that we are by ourselves. What is it that makes you look so confoundedly troubled? Have the rations given out, or what is the matter?”
Then I told him about the man who so much resembled him.
He stood for a moment as though meditating what to say, and then replied, “It’s all right, David; I have seen him, too.”
“Is he your half-brother with whom you told me you could not agree?”
“We may not have been able to agree, but it does not follow that he is not straight and a patriot, does it? We may be in agreement in a large way, if not in little ones?”
I felt, knowing Jot’s habitual reserve, that it would be of no use to question him further, and as he had not really told me anything, I was much confused and uncertain what it all meant.