Misto Richmond, Hence Sturgill out thar says as how he heerd you
say that if I didn't pay--"

"_Captain_ Wells," interrupted Bill again and again Mayhall stared
hard--it was strange that Bill could have formed the habit of calling
him "Captain" in so short a time--"yestiddy is not to-day, is it? And
to-day is not to-morrow? I axe you--have I said one word about that
little matter _to-day?_ Well, borrow not from yestiddy nor to-morrow, to
make trouble fer to-day. There is other things fer to-day, Captain
Wells."

Mayhall turned here.

"Misto Richmond," he said, with great earnestness, "you may not know it,
but three times since thet long-legged jay-hawker's been gone you hev
plainly--and if my ears do not deceive me, an' they never hev--you have
plainly called me '_Captain_ Wells.' I knowed yo' little trick whilst he
was hyeh, fer I knowed whut the feller had come to tell ye; but since
he's been gone, three times, Misto Richmond--"

"Yes," drawled Bill, with an unction that was strangely sweet to
Mayhall's wondering ears, "an' I do it ag'in, _Captain_ Wells."

"An' may I axe you," said Mayhall, ruffling a little, "may I axe
you--why you--"

"Certainly," said Bill, and he handed over the paper that he held in his
hand.

Mayhall took the paper and looked it up and down helplessly--Flitter
Bill slyly watching him.

Mayhall handed it back. "If you please, Misto Richmond--I left my specs
at home." Without a smile, Bill began. It was an order from the
commandant at Cumberland Gap, sixty miles farther down Powell's Valley,
authorizing Mayhall Wells to form a company to guard the Gap and to
protect the property of Confederate citizens in the valley; and a
commission of captaincy in the said company for the said Mayhall Wells.
Mayhall's mouth widened to the full stretch of his lean jaws, and, when
Bill was through reading, he silently reached for the paper and looked
it up and down and over and over, muttering:

"Well--well--well!" And then he pointed silently to the name that was at
the bottom of the paper.

Bill spelled out the name:

"_Jefferson Davis_" and Mayhall's big fingers trembled as he pulled them
away, as though to avoid further desecration of that sacred name.

Then he rose, and a magical transformation began that can be likened--I
speak with reverence--to the turning of water into wine. Captain Mayhall
Wells raised his head, set his chin well in, and kept it there. He
straightened his shoulders, and