War; or, What happens when one loves one's enemy/Chapter 20
XX
MORE MYSTERY
ON the way home we meets the same two soldiers. They surrounded us, savage.
"You didn't enlist!" challenges the one. "You lied to us. You lied all around."
"On the contrary," smiles Jon, "we done better than we promised."
"How do you make that out?" says the savage one.
"We both enlisted instead of only one."
"You've got to prove it!" says the other one. "We won't believe you again."
"You'll find our names at the top of the list, you idiot," says I, "if you go to town and look. Prove it to yourselves—or go to the devil!"
"Yes, yes," said Jon, ready with the oil. "They know what to do, daddy." To them he says: "What my father said is true. But we are in your hands. What are your orders?"
"Back to town," says they.
On the way one of them says:
"Why did you tell us your brother was at home?"
I was going to speak, and tell 'em they was out under the trees where they couldn't be found easy, but Jon stops me.
"Were you there?" he asks.
They don't answer.
"He's gone away, hasn't he?" they asks instead.
"My question to you remains unanswered," says Jon, as fighty now as me. "I'll ask you another. What do you want with my brother Dave?"
"You're talking to a Union soldier!" says one of 'em.
"You're talking to a Union officer!" says Jon, more savage than I ever heard him speak. "And, I may as well tell you that if you lay a hand on my brother you and this Union officer will have it out together. Let me look at you!"
Before he can even think Jon has him by the throat and his gun in his hand, and jerks up his face so that I thought his head would fly off.
With some help from Jon I managed to get the other one.
"I'll know you hereafter!" says Jon. "Now march out—in front. We're going where you meant to take us. But it's not right for two officers to follow two privates. March!"
Well, I tell you, I'd have marched as straight as they did if Jon'd been about a foot behind me with a bayonet!
We marches 'em right back to Kratz.
"I wish to God I had the authority," says Kratz to them; "I'd shoot you right here. It's men like you who are making the most trouble on the border—just as you have made it for these men. I don't know whether or not these two Union officers have the right to arrest you while on duty. I suppose not. They're not mustered in yet. I wish they had. I'd keep you tight enough, with my hundred boys."
"We want to know," says they, "no matter who you or they are, whether they have enlisted."
"Yes, you fools," says Kratz, "and both are officers! You'll get your court-martial for this if I can accomplish it!"
They seem sort of flabbergasted when Kratz shows them our names on the paper—with captain after Jon's and lieutenant after mine.
"Now," says Kratz, "you'd better stop bothering these people! They command a hundred men. You are only two."
"Yes, these," nods the soldier. "I suppose they're all right."
"And if they hadn't started it no one else would have come in. You've got to thank this young man for a hundred Union recruits out of this secessionist hole."
Then he puts his arms on both of our shoulders, and says:
"Gentlemen, under the circumstances, I feel that I ought to let you both withdraw. Only, in that case, I fear, we lose the whole company. I see no reason why you should have any veneration for your country after this. It's discouraging, disheartening. Shall we drop the company?"
He gets the company roll to cross our names off if we like when Jon stops him—still very polite.
"No," he said, "these men are only doing their duty—foolishly though they do it. They have their orders—just as you and I will have, presently. Keep our names where we put them. Keep the company."
Well, the crowd that had gathered is floored by that.
"My God!" weeps the editor. "Such patriotism!"
The two soldiers seems ashamed, and one of them says:
"Gentlemen, you may go to your homes."
The other one says:
"If you need to pass our lines again, the countersign is Washington. There is our confidence in you both!"
Jon was silent for a long time afterward.
Finally I says:
"Well, Jonthy?"
"Daddy, I got to confess, at last, that I don't understand it."
"Some one has given us a mighty bad name with the Unions—Ben Crider, I suppose. Well, before I go I'll take a licking out of his hide."
But Jon shakes his head.
"I hardly think that would help us. We have done the one thing that will. No one can question, further, the Unionism of men who enlist. Anyhow, it seems to me that the trouble is deeper than Crider. However, there is no use in worrying Evelyn and Dave about it."
"Don't you think they smell a rat?" asks I.
"No," smiles nice old Jon, "not even a mouse!"