p that was fitted over the nipple.
Mistrusting the cap, he removed it and replaced it with a new one. He
scrutinized the gun keenly, as if he could judge in this manner of the
condition of the load. All his movements were deliberate and deadly.

When he arrived upon the porch of the tavern he beheld the yard filled
with people. Peter Witheby, sooty-faced and grinning, was in the van. He
looked at the major. "Well?" he said.

"Well?" returned the major, bridling.

"Well, what's 'che got?" said old Peter.

"'Got?' Got a rebel over in th' woods!" roared the major.

At this sentence the women and boys, who had gathered eagerly about him,
gave vent to startled cries. The women had come from adjacent houses,
but the little boys represented the entire village. They had
miraculously heard the first whisper of rumour, and they performed
wonders in getting to the spot. They clustered around the important
figure of the major and gazed in silent awe. The women, however, burst
forth. At the word "rebel," which represented to them all terrible
things, they deluged the major with questions which were obviously
unanswerable.

He shook them off with violent impatience. Meanwhile Peter Witheby was
trying to force exasperating interrogations through the tumult to the
major's ears. "What? No! Yes! How d' I know?" the maddened veteran
snarled as he struggled with his friends. "No! Yes! What? How in thunder
d' I know?" Upon the steps of the tavern the landlady sat, weeping
forlornly.

At last the major burst through the crowd, and went to the roadway.
There, as they all streamed after him, he turned and faced them. "Now,
look a' here, I don't know any more about this than you do," he told
them forcibly. "All that I know is that there's a rebel over in Smith's
woods, an' all I know is that I'm agoin' after 'im."

"But hol' on a minnet," said old Peter. "How do yeh know he's a rebel?"

"I know he is!" cried the major. "Don't yeh think I know what a rebel
is?"

Then, with a gesture of disdain at the babbling crowd, he marched
determinedly away, his rifle held in the hollow of his arm. At this
heroic moment a new clamour arose, half admiration, half dismay. Old
Peter hobbled after the major, continually repeating, "Hol' on a
minnet."

The little boy who had given the alarm was the centre of a throng of
lads who gazed with envy and awe, discovering in him a new quality. He
held forth to them eloquently. The women stared after the fi