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Updated: June 7, 2025
Draney," uttered the young lieutenant quickly. "Good-bye, sir." "Can't you leave me even six men?" Prescott did not reply, but called: "March the detachment, Sergeant." Hal gave the moving order instantly, the lieutenant cutting off the column obliquely and thus rejoining its head. "The impudence of that fellow!" growled Lieutenant Prescott, under his breath, but Sergeant Hal heard the words.
In some mysterious manner what this swarthy little spy overheard traveled, less than an hour later, to Mr. Draney, planter, and that gentleman, as he sat in his stateroom and thought it all over, was greatly disturbed.
Now, at the test, not one of you gentlemen doubts that Tomba would deny it all point blank. I believe that Draney is a scoundrel. I never liked the looks of the man from the first moment, but I can't arrest him on account of my bad opinion of him. Nor would any military or civil court hold him on account of what Sergeant Overton says Tomba told him.
After flashing an inquiring look at his company commander, and saluting that officer, Hal next raised his uniform cap to Draney, then turned and made his way down to the spar deck. "Your sergeant looks like a very upright young man, Captain," observed Mr. Draney. "Overton?" rejoined Captain Cortland. "I am certain that he is the soul of honor."
"Humph!" muttered the young lieutenant to the boyish sergeant. "If all we hear about Draney is true, or even the half of it, he has no need to fear the Moros." Just as the detachment was passing opposite the main building the front door opened, and Draney, bearing a rifle in the hollow of his left arm, hastened out, holding up his right hand.
"In the first place, you wouldn't find Draney in an hour, for probably he has hidden himself. Even if you found him sitting on his back porch he'd be prepared to swear that some native had sent up the kite without his knowledge or permission. Sergeant, a fellow of Draney's type is always hard to catch, and it's bad judgment to try to catch him until you have evidence enough to hang him.
I certainly would send some of them back to that confounded Draney!" quivered Prescott. The object at which both gazed was a blood-red kite, flying high, and apparently sent up not far from the Draney house. "It must be a signal, sir," suggested Sergeant Hal. "Of course it is!" stormed the lieutenant.
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