Later on, down a side street, he pauses before a house with its face blown away. On the verge of one of its jagged floors is an old four-posted bed, and beside it a child's cot is standing pitifully,—the tiny pillow still at the head and the little sheets thrown across the foot. So much for one of the navy's shells.
While he was thinking of the sadness of it all, a little scene was acted: the side door of the house opened, a weeping woman came out, and with her was a tall Confederate Colonel of cavalry. Gallantly giving her his arm, he escorted her as far as the little gate, where she bade him good by with much feeling. With an impulsive movement he drew some money from his pocket, thrust it upon her, and started hurriedly away that he might not listen to her thanks. Such was his preoccupation that he actually brushed into Stephen, who was standing beside a tree. He stopped and bowed.
“Excuse me, seh,” he said contritely. “I beg your pardon, seh.”
“Certainly,” said Stephen, smiling; “it was my fault for getting in your way.”
“Not at all, seh,” said the cavalry Colonel; “my clumsiness, seh.” He did not pass on, but stood pulling with some violence a very long mustache. “Damn you Yankees,” he continued, in the same amiable tone, “you've brought us a heap of misfortune. Why, seh, in another week we'd been fo'ced to eat niggers.”
The Colonel made such a wry face that Stephen laughed in spite of himself. He had marked the man's charitable action, and admired his attempt to cover it. The Colonel seemed to be all breadth, like a card. His shoulders were incredible. The face was scant, perchance from lack of food, the nose large, with a curved rim, and the eyes blue gray. He wore clay-flecked cavalry boots, and was six feet five if an inch, so that Stephen's six seemed insignificant beside him.
“Captain,” he said, taking in Stephen's rank, “so we won't qua'l as to who's host heah. One thing's suah,” he added, with a twinkle, “I've been heah longest. Seems like ten yeahs since I saw the wife and children down in the Palmetto State. I can't offer you a dinner, seh. We've eaten all the mules and rats and sugar cane in town.” (His eye seemed to interpolate that Stephen wouldn't be there otherwise.) “But I can offer you something choicer than you have in the No'th.”
Whereupon he drew from his hip a dented silver flask. The Colonel remarked that Stephen's eyes fell on the coat of arms.
“Prope'ty of my grandfather, seh, of Washington's Army. My name is Jennison,—Catesby Jennison, at your service, seh,” he said. “You have the advantage of me, Captain.”
“My name is Brice,” said Stephen.