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"The Deserter" was the last fine short story written by the late Richard Harding Davis, and "The Scar That Tripled" is the engrossing narrative of the adventure which suggested that story. Personally, I regard it as superior to "The Deserter." Professor Showerman's country chronicles are now well known to American readers, and this is quite the best of them.
Of course, I understood that this was a device intended to deceive; but I did not know what the intended deception was. On the 22d, however, a deserter came in who informed me that Bragg was leaving our front, and on that day Buckner's division was sent to reinforce Longstreet at Knoxville, and another division started to follow but was recalled.
Not dreaming of any further hostilities from men on whom he had lavished favors, he would doubtless have fallen into their power, had not intelligence been brought him of the plot by a deserter from the conspirators. He saw at a glance the perils by which he was surrounded, and the storm about to burst upon the island.
To the pains of a wounded soldier, he added the disgrace of a coward, and the infamy of a deserter. O, cried he, why was I such a fool as to leave the great family I lived in, where there was meat and drink enough and to spare, only on account of a little quarrel? I might have made up that with them as we had done our former quarrels.
These animals were, however, well trained in pig-hunting and never barked until the prey was either being run down or was brought to bay. Amongst the children were two half-castes brother and sister. The boy was about twelve, the girl a couple of years older. I learnt that their father, who was dead, was an Englishman, a deserter from a man-of-war.
An Italian deserter from the other side brought the news. The two generals were unwounded, I hope?" "Yes, colonel, and our losses were altogether slight." The commandant opened the despatch. He looked a little surprised at its contents. "So you are going to endeavour to pass a message into the citadel. It is a difficult undertaking. The enemy's watch is a very vigilant one.
The enthusiasm became general; the moment their Majesties arrived the orchestra repeated the air I have just mentioned, and afterwards played a song in the "Deserter," "Can we grieve those whom we love?" which also made a powerful impression upon those present: on all sides were heard praises of their Majesties, exclamations of affection, expressions of regret for what they had suffered, clapping of hands, and shouts of "Vive le Roi!
Barry was most anxious that this poor fellow should not be left behind, and as Greaves promised to procure a disguise for him and have him conveyed secretly to Tom's on the night that the project of leaving the Fort was to be put into execution, Barry, at the request of Greaves, penned a note, which he hastily sealed with a love device well known to the deserter, and which he had himself received at the hands of the beautiful girl of his heart.
The man was a deserter and a renegade, so it served him right, but being an Irishman, you see, he distinguished himself that's all I mean to infer." The young officer was exceedingly attentive to an anecdote which, thus told by its bronzed, war-worn, and soldier-like narrator, possessed the fascination of romance with the interest of reality.
On visiting them to-day I found that only seven real prisoners of war are left here, the others being suspects or possible traitors, arrested on suspicion of signalling or sending messages to the enemy. Among them is the French deserter I mentioned weeks ago. The little man is much reduced in girth, and terribly lonely among the Dutch, but he appears to grow no wiser for solitude and low living.
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