Captain Macklin: His MemoirsDavis, Richard Harding
General
Captain Macklin: His Memoirs
Davis, Richard Harding
Adventure stories; Central America -- Fiction; Soldiers -- Fiction; United States Military Academy -- Fiction; War stories
I may occasionally exaggerate a bit in representing myself to be a more
important person than I really am, but if I were taught nothing else at
the Point, I was taught to tell the truth, and when Aiken questioned my
word I felt the honor of the whole army rising within me and stiffening
my back-bone.
“You had better believe what I tell you, sir,” I answered him, sharply.
“You may not know it, but you are impertinent!”
I have seldom seen a man so surprised as was Aiken when I made this
speech. His mouth opened and remained open while he slowly removed
his feet from the table and allowed the legs of his chair to touch the
floor.
“Great Scott,” he said at last, “but you have got a nasty temper. I’d
forgotten that folks are so particular.”
“Particular--because I object to having my word doubted,” I asked. “I
must request you to send my trunk to Pulido’s. I fancy you and I won’t
hit it off together.” I rose and started to leave the room, but he held
out his hands to prevent me, and exclaimed, in consternation:
“Oh, that’s no way to treat me,” he protested. “I didn’t say anything
for you to get on your ear about. If I did, I’m sorry.” He stepped
forward, offering to shake my hand, and as I took his doubtfully, he
pushed me back into my chair.
“You mustn’t mind me,” he went on. “It’s been so long since I’ve seen a
man from God’s country that I’ve forgotten how to do the polite. Here,
have another drink and start even.” He was so eager and so suddenly
humble that I felt ashamed of my display of offended honor, and we began
again with a better understanding.
I told him once more why I had come, and this time he accepted my story
as though he considered my wishing to join Laguerre the most natural
thing in the world, nodding his head and muttering approvingly. When I
had finished he said, “You may not think so now, but I guess you’ve come
to the only person who can help you. If you’d gone to anyone else you’d
probably have landed in jail.” He glanced over his shoulder at the open
door, and then, after a mysterious wink at me, tiptoed out upon the
veranda, and ran rapidly around and through the house. This precaution
on his part gave me a thrill of satisfaction. I felt that at last I
was a real conspirator that I was concerned in something dangerous and
weighty. I sipped at my glass with an air of indifference, but as a
matter of fact I was rather nervous.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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