After firing his shot, Private Carter
Druse reloaded his rifle and resumed his watch.
Ten minutes had hardly passed when a Federal sergeant
crept cautiously to him on hands and knees. Druse
neither turned his head nor looked at him, but lay
without motion or sign of recognition.
“Did you fire?” the sergeant whispered.
“Yes.”
“At what?”
“A horse. It was standing
on yonder rock—pretty far out. You
see it is no longer there. It went over the cliff.”
The man’s face was white, but
he showed no other sign of emotion. Having answered,
he turned away his eyes and said no more. The
sergeant did not understand.
“See here, Druse,” he
said, after a moment’s silence, “it’s
no use making a mystery. I order you to report.
Was there anybody on the horse?”
“Yes.”
“Well?”
“My father.”
The sergeant rose to his feet and walked away.
“Good God!” he said.
|