“But you must,” urged the girl, frantically. “Oh, you must!”
“I simply can’t. That’s all. I’d a sight ruther be tuk as a wounded soldier unable to stir a single peg than to sneak into another man’s clothes an’ deny the side I fit on. Huh, you are a woman! War makes men mighty indifferent to anything except duty.” A picture of baffled despair, the girl peered through the doorway at the approaching men.
“You once said you’d do anything I asked ef I’d consent to marry you. John, now will you let grandpa put it on you?”
A warm scarlet wave had passed over her. She had never looked so beautiful. He hesitated for some time, and then shook his head. “I can’t put on blue clothes, Sally.”
The air was still as death. Above the beat of her strumming pulse she could hear the “hep! hep!” of the soldiers as they marched toward the cabin. Ericson staggered to his feet and stood swaying beside her.
“I mought as well go out an’ meet ‘em,” he said, his face awry with pain and utter exhaustion. “Ef I don’t they ’ll think you are harborin’ a reb, an’ it mought go ag’in’ you-uns.”
Then he threw out his hands and clutched her shoulders, and sank to the floor.
“He has fainted, grandpa,” said the girl.
“Quick! Put the uniform on ‘im. I ’ll try to detain ’em out thar till you are ready.”
“I mought just as well take off his suit an’ kiver ’im with quilts,” suggested the old man. “It ’ll save time.”