Shoulder-Straps: A Novel of New York and the Army, 1862Morford, Henry
History
Shoulder-Straps: A Novel of New York and the Army, 1862
Morford, Henry
United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction
"Did he?--d--n him!" said the Colonel, who seemed to have a small bottle
of profanity lately uncorked, or one that he certainly was not in the
habit of uncorking in the presence of those on whom he wished to produce
a different impression.
"Yes he did," answered the Captain. "He said a little more. Perhaps you
would like to have _that_, while I am at it?"
"That?--yes, out with the whole of it!" spoke the Colonel, with another
oath which need not be recorded here as any additional seasoning.
"He took occasion to remark, where the lady who was with him could hear
it," Lowndes went on--"that he didn't care a d--n for you, and that you
dare not make a complaint against him at Albany, a bit more than you
dare jump into a place that is even hotter than the weather is here
to-day."
"Did he--the infernal hound!" broke out the Colonel, his dark brows
literally corrugated with rage. "I'll teach him whether I _dare_ or not,
before I am forty-eight hours older!" But either there _was_ something
behind the curtain, or Colonel Egbert Crawford was a man of most angelic
temper, for the moment after he broke out into a laugh that was not of
the most musical order and said: "Oh, well--Dalton is a pretty good
fellow, after all, and perhaps the next Adjutant would be a worse one
for the regiment."
With these words Colonel Egbert Crawford passed into the side room by
the door of which he had been standing, while Captain Lowndes touched
his hat to him very slightly and went on to the larger room towards
which the others were proceeding. As the Colonel swung back the door,
Smith caught a very quick glance within, and saw a table, with bottles,
a pack of cards, a couple of dice-boxes, and four or five persons
seated, lounging and smoking. The party appeared to him as if they
might have been interrupted in a little harmless Sunday afternoon
amusement, and as if they were only waiting for the return of the
Colonel to the room, to renew that amusement in a very pleasant and
effective manner. That impression was not removed by his hearing, after
he had passed through the open door into the other room, a suspicious
sound like the rattling of dice and another sound very like the chinking
of coin, proceeding from the smaller apartment.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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