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For an instant only the man stared at Stephen, and then he dragged himself to the wall. The eyes of the other two were both fixed on the young Union Captain. "My God!" cried Jennison, seizing Stephen's rigid arm, "does he look as bad as that? We've seen him every day." "I I know him," answered Stephen. He stepped quickly to the bedside, and bent over it. "Colfax!" he said. "Colfax!"
For the Sunday after, the Chatham Road Presbyterian Church announced a sermon by Dr. John Jennison Drew on "How the Saviour Would End Strikes." Babbitt had been negligent about church-going lately, but he went to the service, hopeful that Dr. Drew really did have the information as to what the divine powers thought about strikes.
For an instant only the man stared at Stephen, and then he dragged himself to the wall. The eyes of the other two were both fixed on the young Union Captain. "My God!" cried Jennison, seizing Stephen's rigid arm, "does he look as bad as that? We've seen him every day." "I I know him," answered Stephen. He stepped quickly to the bedside, and bent over it. "Colfax!" he said. "Colfax!"
I shall be at the furnace until midnight at the least." "I'll tote for you till daylight, if the good streak only holds out," laughed Jennison, with glowing eyes. "Come softly into the shack when you do come," Tom directed. "I'm going to put Mr. Hazelton to bed, and I don't want any one to wake him.
There Stephen saw the magazines which the Confederates had dug out, and of which he had heard. But he saw something, too, of which he had not heard, Colonel Catesby Jennison stopped before an open doorway in the yellow bank and knocked. A woman's voice called softly to him to enter. They went into a room hewn out of the solid clay.
Tell me," said he "when the redoubt over the Jackson road was blown up, they said a nigger came down in your lines alive. Is that so?" "Yes," said Stephen, smiling; "he struck near the place where my company was stationed. His head ached a mite. That seemed to be all." "I reckon he fell on it," said Colonel Catesby Jennison, as if it were a matter of no special note.
He was cold with failure. No one could have told Babbitt that he was a fool with more vigor, precision, and intelligence than he himself displayed. He reflected that from the standpoint of the Rev. Dr. John Jennison Drew he was a wicked man, and from the standpoint of Miss Ida Putiak, an old bore who had to be endured as the penalty attached to eating a large dinner.
He kin shoot like a circus feller, and I reckon he'll stay right by." Mose, with big heart, said, "You bet I will." "That's the talk. Well, now, let's go to bed. I've sent word to Jennison he's our captain and to-morrow we'll settle you on the mouth o' the creek, just above here. It's a monstrous fine piece o' ground; I know you'll like it." Mose slept very little that night.
You've been jogging, but that isn't the gait. Holmes, straighten back more -don't cramp your chest!" So the criticisms rang out. Luce was an authority on short sprinting. He had made good in that line in his own college days. "Jennison, you're not running with your arms! Forget 'em!" Jennison promptly let his arms hang motionless at his sides. "Come in, Jennison!" called coach. Jennison came in.
The lady in her uneasiness smoothed the single sheen that covered the sick man. From afar came the sound of cheering, and it was this that seemed to rouse him. He faced them again, impatiently. "I have reason to remember Mr. Brice," he said steadily. And then, with some vehemence, "What is he doing in Vicksburg?" Stephen looked at Jennison, who winced.
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