“One moment!” snapped the General.  “Was he running towards his troop or away from it?”

“Way fr’m it, seh,” replied the old negro, with unmistakable truthfulness, “t’odes de ice house whar Miss Hallie an’ de chillun was at.  Yas, seh.”

“And Mr. Morrison tried to stop him?”

“Ha!” cried Uncle Billy, with a chuckle.  “He mo’n tried, seh.  He done it!”

The General nodded, his lips tight shut.

“So I understand.  But what did he do—­or say?”

At this question Uncle Billy suddenly developed dramatic abilities that his master had never dreamed of.

“He say—­” and Uncle Billy’s arm shot out as he pointed something deadly at an invisible foe—­“he say, ‘Halt!  Dudley!  Halt!  Bang!’”

Uncle Billy’s hat dropped down on the floor with a whack.  “Dat’s all, seh.  Dat po’ white trash—­he drop lek a stuck pig, seh!”

The General’s eyes were on his desk and for a moment there was a pause.  Finally, he lifted his head and looked at Morrison, who rose in salute.

“Mr. Morrison.  You did well.  Your Sergeant failed in his military duty—­and deserved the punishment.  I commend your action.”

Harris, listening with all his might, thought the words more favorable than the tone in which they were spoken and his face brightened.  Then he heard the General speaking more sternly.

“The Federal powers of administrative justice now occupy precisely the same position with regard to your own default.”

Harris’ face darkened.  After the first just encomium—­what was this that was coming?

Relentless and inflexible the voice went on.

“The rules of war, as applied to a non-commissioned officer, must also govern his superiors.  As Sergeant Dudley deserved his bullet you merit yours.”

His eyes dropped from Morrison’s face and he looked up at Harris.

“A bad witness for your client, Lieutenant,” he said grimly, as he nodded his head towards Uncle Billy.  “You ought to study law!  Take him away,” and he picked up a fresh cigar from a box in front of him and tossed the old one out of the window.

Uncle Billy, with a puzzled look on his face, slowly yielded to the touch of the two soldiers who stepped into the room at a gesture from Forbes.  He seemed to realize that his testimony had not been of much avail though just why was indeed a mystery.  One thing, however, was quite clear.

“‘Skuse me, Mars’ Gen’l.  I—­I don’t need dat ar pass home now.  An’ I much obliged to you fer not givin’ it to me.  Yas, seh.  Thank’e, seh.”  At the doorway he bowed with careful politeness to each occupant of the fatal room.  “Good mornin’, Mars’ Cary.  Good mornin’, gent’men. Good mornin’.”

With the disappearance of bewildered Uncle Billy the General swung around on the officer who no longer wore his shoulder straps.