‘Bullee!’ burst from Ephraim, while a low murmur of approval ran down the line of Vermonters. But the colonel, livid with rage, said as he almost snatched the sword from the young officer’s hand: ‘Very good, sir. Fall back! I shall know how to deal with you when the time comes.—Sergeant Plowes!’ A low-browed, thick-set fellow stepped forward and saluted. ‘Carry out the orders which Captain Peters has refused to execute, and be sharp about it.’ In every company of men there are some souls of the baser sort, ever ready to curry favour with those above them. The colonel had made a careful selection from his regiment, when he set out to hunt the fugitives down, and he knew that there was no fear of his orders being disobeyed, whatever their character. Had not Captain Peters appeared upon the scene it would have been all over with Ephraim and Lucius long ago, but the presence of the junior officer had inspired Colonel Spriggs with the mean idea of forcing some one to share the responsibility of the execution with him. Foiled in this, he fell back upon the men he had brought. The sergeant also knew his men, and having named six, ordered them to step to the front. They did so. The remainder of the company stood at attention. Their sympathies were with the prisoners, but the fear of the provost-marshal was before them, and as the colonel had absented himself from them for about an hour after midnight, they could not know that he had lied in saying that he had seen that dreaded functionary. ‘Fall in between the second and third file,’ said the sergeant to the prisoners. Lucius stepped forward and took his place. His head was held proudly up, and on his pale lips was a set smile. His hands were still locked behind his back, so no one saw how convulsively his fingers were twined together. ‘Now then, you,’ said Plowes roughly to Ephraim, catching him by the arm. But the Grizzly broke from his hold, and rushed up to the colonel. ‘Cunnel!’ he cried, in heart-rending tones, ‘stop before ye do this bloody deed. I ain’t keerin’ what ye do ter me, ez I told ye before. But thet boy thar, thet Luce, he’s ez innercent ez a lamb. I made the balloon jest fer ter pleasure him, and he didn’t want ter come; but I fetched him along. He’s done nuthin’. Cunnel, ez God is above ye, don’t harm him.’ His voice rose to a shriek. ‘Cunnel! cunnel! Hold yer hand. Don’t shoot him. He’s his mother’s only son. He’s my friend, and I love him. And I’ve brought him ter his death.’ He covered his face with his hands and sobbed. ‘Take him away,’ said the colonel abruptly. ‘Cunnel!’ screamed Ephraim, struggling with the sergeant. ‘Spare him! Spare him! Ef ye will, I’ll jine yer army and fight against my own side till I drop. Ye’ll git one man more thet way.—Oh, what am I sayin’? I don’t want ter git off myself. On’y let him go! On’y let him go!’ ‘For shame, Grizzly!’ called Lucius. ‘Don’t degrade yourself by talking to the ruffian.’