The lieutenant glances quickly around. There, not ten paces away--his forage cap on the back of his head, his hulking shoulders more bent than ever, hands in his pockets and a scowl on his face--stands, or rather slouches, Rix. He looks unkempt, dirty, determinedly ugly, and very much as though he had been in liquor most of the week, and was sober now only through adverse circumstances over which he had no control. "What do you want of the major, Rix?" demands the lieutenant, with military directness. "Well, I _want_ him--'n that's enough," says the ex-teamster, with surly, defiant manner, and never changing his attitude. "I want t' know what I'm sent back here for, like a criminal." "Because you look most damnably like one," says the officer, impulsively, and then, ashamed of having said such a thing to one who is powerless to resent, he tempers the wrath with which he would rebuke the man's insubordination, and, after an instant's pause, speaks more gently. "Come here, Rix. Stand up like a man and tell me your trouble. If you have been wronged in any way I'll see that you are righted; but recollect what and where you are." "I'm a man, by God! Good as any of you a year ago; better'n most of you five years ago; an' now I'm ordered about by boys just out of their teens. I'm not under Abbot's orders. Lieutenant Hollins is my officer; he'll fix me all right. Where's _he_, lieutenant? He's the man I want." "Rix, you will only get into more trouble if you don't mend your manners," says the lieutenant, half agreeing with the muttered comment of a comrade, that the man had better be gagged forthwith, but determined to control his own temper. "As to Lieutenant Hollins, he has not been heard of since Antietam. Nobody knows what's become of him." The effect of this announcement is startling. Rix turns ghastly white; his bloodshot eyes stare fearfully at his informant, then blink savagely around on one after another of the party. His fingers twitch nervously, and he clutches at his throat. "Are--are you sure, lieutenant?" he gasps, all his insolence of manner gone. "Sure, sir. He hasn't been seen or heard of since--" "Why, my God! He told me back there at Boonsboro' that he would ride right over to camp--time I was going back with the colonel through the Gap." "Boonsboro'! Why, man, that was several days after the battle that you went back with the colonel's ambulance! Then you've seen him since we have. Where was it?" But Rix has recovered his wits, such as they are. He has made a damaging admission, and one that places him in a compromising position. He quickly blurts forth a denial. "No, no! It wasn't then. I misremembered. 'Twas when we went over the first time. He says to me right there at Boonsboro'--"