Page:Southern Life in Southern Literature.djvu/388

370 Decoration Day and when Joe Wheeler signs the voucher for his pay check. But it was all there was in sight; and somehow I thought Doc Millikin had something up his old alpaca sleeve that was n't all foolishness.

"Around to the jail comes old Doc again in about a week. I was fleabitten, a mite sarcastic, and fundamentally hungry.

"'Any Confederate ironclads in the offing?' I asks. 'Do you notice any sounds resembling the approach of Jeb Stewart's cavalry overland or Stonewall Jackson sneaking up in the rear? If you do, I wish you 'd say so.' "'It 's too soon yet for help to come,' says Doc.

"'The sooner the better,' says I. 'I don't care if it gets in fully fifteen minutes before I am shot; and if you happen to lay eyes on Beauregard or Albert Sidney Johnston or any of the relief corps, wigwag 'em to hike along.' "'There s been no answer received yet,' says Doc.

"'Don't forget, says I, 'that there 's only four days more. I don't know how you propose to work this thing, Doc,' I says to him; 'but it seems to me I'd sleep better if you had got a government that was alive and on the map—like Afghanistan or Great Britain, or old man Kruger's kingdom, to take this matter up. I don't mean any disrespect to your Confederate States, but I can't help feeling that my chances of being pulled out of this scrape was decidedly weakened when General Lee surrendered.' "'It 's your only chance,' says Doc; 'don't quarrel with it. What did your own country do for you?'

"It was only two days before the morning I was to be shot, when Doc Millikin came around again.

"'All right, Yank,' says he. 'Help 's come. The Confederate States of America is going to apply for your release. The representatives of the government arrived on a fruit steamer last night.'