Yes," he
went on, reaching down into his pocket and pulling out a roll of bills,
"I tender you in payment for that same protection the regular pay of a
officer in the Confederate service"--and he handed out the army pay for
three months in Confederate greenbacks--"an' five dollars in money of
the United States, of which I an', doubtless, you, suh, air true and
loyal citizens. Captain Wells, I bid you good-by an' I wish ye well--I
wish ye well."
From the stoop of his store Bill watched the captain ride away,
drooping at the shoulders, and with his hands folded on the pommel of
his saddle--his dim blue eyes misty, the jaunty forage cap a mockery of
his iron-gray hair, and the flaps of his coat fanning either side like
mournful wings.
And Flitter Bill muttered to himself:
"Atter he's gone long enough fer these things to blow over, I'm going to
bring him back and give him another chance--yes, damme if I don't git
him back."
And Bill dropped his remorseful eye to the order in his hand. Like the
handwriting of the order that lifted Mayhall like magic into power, the
handwriting of this order, that dropped him like a stone--was Flitter
Bill's own.
THE PARDON OF BECKY DAY
The missionary was young and she was from the North.
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