The Littlest Rebel Part 27

"Unfortunately, only one," Harris replied. "An old negro--now in our camp--answering to the name of William Lewis."

"Lewis--Lewis," said Grant thoughtfully. He referred for a moment to a file of papers and then looked up. "Is that the old codger who's been worrying my entire staff for permission to go through our lines to his home?"

"Yes, General," said Harris, with a smile, for Unc' Billy's persistency and his troubles were known to everyone he met.

"Good! It's about time we got even him," the General remarked sardonically. "Have him in! See to it, Forbes." And again he bent over his map.

Forbes, pa.s.sing out again, paused as Harris gestured.

"You'll find him somewhere near the guard house," the Lieutenant said with a flicker of a, smile. "The old man has been regularly camping out there since he learned that his master was inside."

A minute pa.s.sed and then, from a short distance away, came the sound of a squad of soldiers marching. In single file, with the two prisoners in line, the squad came into the hallway and stopped at the doorway.

"_Halt! Left face! Order arms! Prisoners file out!_" The two prisoners stepped forward and entered the room.

Thanks to expert surgical work since he entered Union lines, Herbert Cary's wounds had healed quickly while plenty of good food had done the rest. His eyes may not have been bright with hope but at least they were clear with health and his straight back and squared shoulders showed that the man's fighting spirit had not left him even under the adverse decision of a court-martial.

Of the two, Morrison seemed the graver and quieter. With his sword taken from him and his shoulder straps ripped off the man who had been a Lieutenant-Colonel in the Army of the Potomac only the day before stood looking at his general without the slightest hope for clemency. Yet, with all the sad, quiet look of resignation in his eyes, behind them glowed a wonderful light--the light of self-sacrifice. For he had chosen to put on the tender glove of humanity and grip hands with the mailed gauntlet of war, and though he had been crushed yet even in this bitter hour they could not take from him the knowledge that the Commander in Chief of all spiritual armies would stand forever on his side. They could take his sword and shoulder straps but they could not rob him of that divine consolation.

And so the two stood with their eyes steady on the General--the Confederate, hard and defiant--the Union officer with a strange, sad glow on his face.

But the General paid them no attention. He was still studying the map laid out before him on his desk, the cigar in the corner of his mouth drawing one side of his face into harsh, deep lines. As a matter of fact, Ulysses Simpson Grant was very far removed from harshness--he was simply and solely efficiency personified. When nothing was to be said General Grant said nothing. To do otherwise was waste.

Presently he looked up and saw that while Forbes had given the two prisoners chairs directly in front of his desk one of the important factors in the business in hand had not been produced.

"Well, Forbes, well? Where is the negro?" He asked crisply. "Bring him in! Bring him in!"

"In a moment, General," responded the Adjutant, hastening to the doorway as the tread of feet sounded again in the hallway. Dismissing the two privates who had arrived with Uncle Billy between them he led the old man down to the desk and left him there, bowing and sc.r.a.ping a little and holding his hat in front of him in both hands.

"Wan' see _me_, suh?" ventured Uncle Billy, intruding delicately on the General's calculations. "Here I is!"

General Grant looked up quickly and ran his eye over the old man.

"Your name!"

"Er--William Lewis, seh. Yas, seh."

"To whom do you belong?"

Although Uncle Billy's back was not particularly straight this sudden question introduced a stiffening into it which made it more upright than it had been in years.

"I b'longs to Cap'n Hubbert Cary, seh--of de Confed'it Army. Das who I b'longs to. Yas, seh."

The General sat back a little in his chair and studied Uncle Billy. He saw that after all the old negro was simply a natural slave--that he probably had no other thought in his grayed head than that of faithful service to his owner. But he would try him and see how far the old man would go.

"I understand," he said, "that freedom has been offered you--and you refused it. Is this true?"

"Yas, seh."

"_Why?_" asked the General quietly.

Uncle Billy stammered.

"Well--er--well, 'skuse me, Mars' Gen'l, but--but down whar _I_ lives at de--de white gent'men understands a n.i.g.g.e.r better'n what you-all does.

Yas, seh."

General Grant may have smiled internally, but the only symptom of amus.e.m.e.nt was the dry note in his voice.

"I see. But there has been some difference of opinion on the point."

He paused and then pointed past Uncle Billy directly at Morrison. "Do you know that man?"

"Me?" said Uncle Billy. He turned and saw Morrison and instantly his face lighted up. It made no difference to the old negro that Morrison's uniform was mutilated--he could only see the familiar features of one who had treated his dead mistress with perfect respect under trying circ.u.mstances.

"Aw, yas, seh," he broke out, with a broad grin. "How you does, Cun'l. I clar to--"

Uncle Billy stopped. His eyes had gone beyond Morrison to the man sitting beside him and at the sight of that loved figure the old man began to tremble. His voice lowered to a whisper and he began to totter forward.

"Mars' Cary!" he said, as if he were looking on one risen from the dead.

He came a little nearer, with his hand stretched out as if to touch him testingly--then suddenly dropped down on his knees before Gary who had risen from his chair. "Bless Gawd, I done fin' you," he sobbed, his face buried in his toaster's coat. "I done fin' you at last."

The General frowned.

"Forbes," he ordered. "Put a stop to that. Bring him back!"

But Uncle Billy paid not a bit of attention as the Adjutant sprang up.

All his thought was for his master and his own explanation.

"Dey wouldn' lemme git thru, seh!" he cried, pleading absolution from what had seemed an inexcusable breach of trust. "Dey wouldn' gimme no pa.s.s an' I'se des been stuck! Aw, Gawd, Mars' Cary--an' I axed 'em ev'y day!"

"There now, Billy--don't," Cary said with a gesture of pity and unending grat.i.tude.

Uncle Billy rose slowly to his feet.

"Yas, seh. Yas, seh," he answered obediently. "'Skuse me, Mars' Gen'l. I couldn' he'p it, seh. I--I couldn' he'p it. Dey wouldn' eben lemme see him in de guard house--"

"That will do," interrupted the General firmly. "Listen to me. When did you see Mr. Morrison--last?"

"Him?" said Uncle Billy, looking around at the Union officer.

"'Twas--'twas in de spring, seh. Yas, seh. De time de Yankees bu'nt us out."

"How's that?" asked the General, not understanding.

Lieutenant Harris came forward a step.

"The act of incendiarism I spoke of, General--on the part of Sergeant Dudley."

The General looked up and nodded.