“Yes, I know.  But what connection has that with your expedition?”

“Just what I want to know,” added Surrey, coming up at the moment.

“Ah! you’re in time to hear the confession, are you?”

“’An honest confession—­’You know what the wise man says.”

“Come, don’t flatter yourself we will think you so because you quote him.  Be quiet, both of you, and let me go on to tell my tale.”

“Attention!”

“Proceed!”

“Thus, then.  You understand what my errand was?”

“Not exactly; Lieutenant Hunt was drowned somewhere, wasn’t he?”

“Yes:  fell overboard from a tug; the men on board tried to save him, and then to recover his body, and couldn’t do either.  Some of his people came down here in pursuit of it, and I was detailed with a squad to help them in their search.

“Well, the naval officers gave us every facility in their power; the river was dragged twice over, and the woods along-shore ransacked, hoping it might have been washed in and, maybe, buried; but there wasn’t sight or trace of it.  While we were hunting round we stumbled on a couple of darkies, who told us, after a bit of questioning, that darky number three, somewhere about, had found the body of a Federal officer on the river bank, and buried it.  On that hint we acted, posted over to the fellow’s shanty, and found, not him, but his wife, who was ready enough to tell us all she knew.  She showed us some traps of the buried officer, among them a pair of spurs, which his brother recognized directly.  When she was quite sure that we were all correct, and that the thing had fallen into the right hands, she fished out of some safe corner his wallet, with fifty-seven dollars in it.  I confess I stared, for they were slaves, both of them, and evidently poor as Job’s turkey, and it has always been one of my theories that a nigger invariably steals when he gets a chance.  However, I wasn’t going to give in at that.”

“Of course you weren’t,” said the Colonel.  “Did you ever read about the man who was told that the facts did not sustain his theory, and of his sublime answer?  ‘Very well,’ said he, ’so much the worse for the facts!’”

“Come, Colonel, you talk too much.  How am I ever to get on with my narrative, if you keep interrupting me in this style?  Be quiet.”

“Word of command.  Quiet.  Quiet it is.  Continue.”

“No, I said, of course they expect some reward,—­that’s it.”

“What an ass you must be!” broke in Whittlesly.

“Hadn’t you sense enough to see they could keep the whole of it, and nobody the wiser? and of course they couldn’t have supposed any one was coming after it,—­could they?

“How am I to know what they thought?  If you don’t stop your comments, I’ll stop the story; take your choice.”

“All right:  go ahead.”