Sam approached with reluctance, and fell back with alacrity when the
glittering steel was brandished towards his own breast.
"Where's your pass, sirrah?" demanded Jim, with asperity.
"Here, massa," said the chattel, presenting the same one which had
already been examined.
"Won't do," said Jim. "Can't come that game over this child. That passes
you to Fairfax,--can't get any one from Fairfax on that ticket. Come,"
flourishing the shooting-stick once more, "move along"; which Sam
proceeded to do with extraordinary readiness.
"Now, sir," turning to the again speechless chevalier, "if you stay here
any longer, I shall take you under arrest to head-quarters:
consequently, you'd better accept the advice of a disinterested friend,
and make tracks, lively."
By this time the scion of a latter-day chivalry seemed to comprehend the
situation, seized his lines, wheeled about, and went off at a spanking
trot over the "sacred soil,"--Jim shouting after him, "I say, Mr.
F.F.V. if you meet any 'Lincoln vandals,' just give them my respects,
will you?" to which as the knight gave no answer, we are left in doubt
to this day whether Given's commission was ever executed.
"There! my mind's relieved on that point," announced Jim, wiping his
face with one hand and shaking the other after the retreating dust.
"Mean old scoot! I'll teach him to insult one of our boys,--'Lincoln
vandals' indeed! I'd like to have whanged him!" with a final shake and a
final explosion, cooling off as rapidly as he had heated, and continuing
the interrupted conversation with recovered temper and _sangfroid_.
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