LINCOLN ROOM 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS 
 LIBRARY 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF 
 PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 And Other 
 War Detective Stories 
 
 BY 
 JOEL CHANDLER HARRIS 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 
 1909 
 
In this Centennial year of Lincoln's birth, it has been deemed advisable to 
 lay special emphasis upon the title of one of these tales, and therefore the collection 
 has been renamed : " The Kidnapping of President Lincoln and Other Stories." 
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1899, IQO O, BY THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 COPYRIGHT, 1000, BY DOUBLEDAY, PAGE & COMPANY 
 
H 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 FACE 
 
 WHY THE CONFEDERACY FAILED . . . i 
 
 IN THE ORDER OF PROVIDENCE 47 
 
 THE TROUBLES OF MARTIN COY < . . . -79 
 THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN . . 121 
 THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY ... 245 
 
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 "THE DRIVER PUT THE LASH TO THE HORSES" . Frontispiece 
 
 FACING PAGE 
 " ' I'LL NOT SURRENDER THE PAPER TO YOU ' " . . . 15 
 
 "NORA, WHOSE INTEREST AND CURIOSITY IMPELLED HER 
 
 TO LISTEN AT THE LIBRARY DOOR'* . . . .Ill 
 
 "'YOU NEVER SEED ONE MADE LIKE A RHINOSSYHOSS ' " . 1 86 
 
WHY THE CONFEDERACY 
 FAILED 
 
WHY THE CONFEDERACY FAILED 
 
 WHEN the surrender of Lee's army brought the 
 Southern Confederacy to a sudden end, in 1865, 
 not one Southerner in a hundred had prepared his 
 mind for the event. It came as a stroke of light- 
 ning out of a clear sky. But there were a few 
 who thought they knew why the surrender came ; 
 who had anticipated it, in a vague way, a year or 
 more before the event; and of these few there 
 were two men who regarded the outcome as the 
 result of the direct interposition of Providence, 
 although this belief did not cause them to bear 
 with resignation the cruel wounds which the result 
 inflicted on their hopes and their fortunes. They 
 gave good reasons for their foreknowledge of the 
 collapse reasons which the attentive reader will 
 doubtless be able to discover for himself when the 
 facts are laid before him. 
 
 When the deadly game of war began in earnest, 
 the Southern leaders found it necessary to depend 
 almost entirely on blockade-running as the means 
 of communicating with their agents abroad. But 
 this method was a "skittish" one at best. Com- 
 paratively few men could be induced to engage in 
 
 3 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 it, and those who were willing were just the men 
 whose services could be better employed in other 
 directions. More than that, the blockade was 
 becoming more real and, consequently, more seri- 
 ous every day. No plan to elude the increasing 
 vigilance of the blockaders could be looked upon 
 as certain or definite. It was a game of hazard, 
 thrilling enough to attract the reckless and the 
 adventurous, but dangerous enough to repel all 
 others. One day with another, the advantages all 
 lay with the grim war-vessels that rocked lazily up 
 and down just outside the Southern harbors. 
 
 Therefore it was necessary to hit upon some 
 plan more definite and systematic to enable the 
 Confederate Government to communicate with its 
 agents in the North, in Canada, and in Europe. 
 Communication with Washington was easy, as 
 John Omahundro (well known after the war as 
 "Texas Jack") and his companion scouts were 
 demonstrating every day; but it had also been 
 demonstrated that it was a risky business for any 
 scout or spy to -walk out of Washington, day or 
 night, with an incriminating map or drawing or 
 document concealed on his person. Many an 
 innocent countryman, going away from Washing- 
 ton after selling his produce, was suddenly seized 
 and stripped naked, being compelled to remain in 
 this plight while the lining was ripped from his 
 
 4 
 
WHY THE CONFEDERACY FAILED 
 
 coat, if he had one, and from his boots. He might 
 protest tearfully, or threaten loudly ; it was all one 
 to those who were submitting him to this rough 
 investigation. 
 
 Events of this kind necessarily went far to make 
 the traffic in contraband information across the 
 Potomac as dangerous as running the blockade. 
 Omahundro kept it up from pure love of excite- 
 ment and adventure, and played his cards with 
 such apparent boldness and indifference that the 
 cold eye of suspicion never once glanced in his 
 direction. But he and the few others who followed 
 his initiative were not equal to the necessities of 
 the Confederate Government, and so it was decided 
 that the New York Hotel, so popular with South- 
 erners before the war, should be the centre to 
 which information should be sent and from which 
 it should be distributed. 
 
 I saw an announcement the other day to the 
 effect that the old hotel had been closed to the 
 public, and by this time no doubt its place has 
 been taken by one of those unsightly and ridicu- 
 lous structures which stand for pretty much all 
 that is concrete and real in our commercial envi- 
 ronment. In that event the old building has been 
 demolished and carted away as so much rubbish ; 
 but if that rubbish should find a voice, how many 
 strange stories it could tell ! The flat roof covered, 
 
 5 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 and the dull, unattractive walls concealed, a thoi 
 sand mysteries. 
 
 Now, as Mr. Lincoln used to put it, no Go 1 
 ernment could sleep soundly while such a man j 
 Secretary Stanton was stamping about in the co 
 ridors, kicking chairs over, and breaking bell-cord 
 The Government, consequently, was not aslee] 
 The great Secretary had early knowledge th; 
 something suspicious was going on in and aroun 
 the New York Hotel, and the agents of the secr< 
 service, as well as the most expert detectives tt 
 world could produce, gave it their undivided attei 
 tion for many weary months. They followed man 
 a promising clew to its unpretentious entrano 
 only to see it disappear, or entered its plain an 
 silent corridors only to come away baffled an 
 amazed. For while the Government was wid< 
 awake, the hotel seemed to be asleep. Porter 
 waiters, bell-boys, even the guests moved aboi 
 with a noiseless politeness. To enter the dinin 
 room of the hotel was to take refuge from th 
 chaotic rumble and rattle of Broadway ; was to g< 
 in fact, many steps toward the subdued literal 
 atmosphere of Washington Square. 
 
 The hotel itself, in its own proper person, WE 
 supposed to have no knowledge of the interei 
 which the Government was taking in the mov< 
 ments of its guests. At any rate, it betrayed n 
 
 6 
 
WHY THE CONFEDERACY FAILED 
 
 irritation, and was neither surprised nor alarmed. 
 It went to bed early, arose at dawn, and lay sprawl- 
 ing in sun or rain day after day, to all appearances 
 blissfully ignorant of the secret inquest which the 
 Government was holding over its corpus. As a 
 matter of fact, however, there was not an hour of 
 the twenty-four when the old hotel was not wide- 
 awake, and fairly quivering with eagerness to take 
 advantage of every instant's carelessness on the 
 part of the cordon of gentlemanly spies and de- 
 tectives : fairly quivering and quaking with eager- 
 ness, and yet as silent, as motionless, and as 
 patient as the animals whose instincts and necessi- 
 ties compel them to catch and kill their prey. No 
 writer has ever hit off this animal characteristic in 
 a phrase. To describe it you need a term that 
 is a hundred times more expressive than wariness 
 or cunning, and that gives a new illumination and 
 a deeper meaning to patience. 
 
 On the day before Christmas, in the year 1863, 
 about four o'clock in the afternoon, Captain Fon- 
 taine Flournoy (he was made a Colonel later) 
 alighted from a cab and entered the office of the 
 New York Hotel. He paused in front of the 
 clerk's desk and looked about him, as if in doubt 
 or perplexity, or as if seeking for a familiar face. 
 Though dressed in the garb of a civilian, his figure 
 was still military. 
 
 7 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 " I was expecting to meet my son," he explained 
 to the smiling clerk. 
 
 "I think he arrived this morning," said that 
 functionary. " Is that his handwriting ? " He 
 pointed to a signature on the register, " Emory W. 
 Hunt, Montpelier, Vermont." 
 
 Captain Flournoy gave a grunt of satisfaction, 
 and signed beneath it, "Frederic J. Hunt, U. S. A." 
 A gentlemanly-looking person, promenading about 
 the office, approached the desk and inspected the 
 signature. 
 
 " Show the gentleman to 322," said the clerk to 
 a porter, and the two went upstairs. The porter, 
 inspecting the tag of the key, saw that it was for 
 room 328. He did not pause to correct the error, 
 but showed the guest to 322, went in, closed the 
 door carefully, and proceeded to usher the Captain 
 through connecting rooms until 328 was reached. 
 In that apartment a half-dozen men were grouped 
 around a table. They appeared to be playing 
 dominoes, and were so intent on the game that 
 only one of them looked up. Meanwhile Captain 
 Flournoy unfastened his valise, took out a bundle 
 of papers, and laid it upon the table. Then he re- 
 arranged the contents of the satchel and was es- 
 corted back to 322, one of the group playfully 
 throwing a kiss after him. 
 
 In all this he was simply following to the letter 
 8 
 
WHY THE CONFEDERACY FAILED 
 
 the careful instructions that had been given him in 
 Washington with respect to his movements. This 
 was his first experience in work of this kind, and 
 the precautions he saw taken in his behalf, at every 
 turn and crossing, brought home to him in the most 
 vivid way the dangerous character of his mission. 
 If this danger had taken tangible shape, or had 
 assumed actual proportions such as may be seen 
 when a battery of guns spits out shot and shell 
 from its red and smoking mouths, he would have 
 known how to face it ; but to be walking in the 
 dark, to be groping blindly, as it were, with the 
 possibility of a long imprisonment, or even the gal- 
 lows, at the end of the tangle this was enough 
 to put even his stout nerves to the test. 
 
 More than this, on his own responsibility he had 
 taken it upon himself to deliver in person to the 
 authorities in Richmond the most important docu- 
 ment he had received at the Federal capital. This 
 document he had detached from the rest, and now 
 had it stored away in the lining of an undergar- 
 ment. It would have been no relief to Captain 
 Flournoy if he had known that the document 
 had been missed by the War Department not 
 twenty minutes subsequent to its delivery into his 
 hands ; that the worthy official who had it in 
 charge had been promptly clapped into the Old 
 Capital prison; and that he himself had been 
 
 9 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 accompanied from Washington by a special detec- 
 tive in whom Secretary Stanton had the utmost 
 confidence. 
 
 This official had long desired an opportunity to 
 uncover the conspiracy that had its site in the New 
 York Hotel, and he rejoiced now to find that he 
 had run his game to earth in that quarter. His 
 name, which was Alonzo Barnum, will have a 
 familiar sound to those who saw it on the title-page 
 of one of the most interesting volumes published 
 directly after the war. It was entitled, "From 
 Harlem to the Antarctic." 
 
 Mr. Barnum shook himself as he entered the 
 hotel, and smiled when he contemplated the regis- 
 try-book. 
 
 "When did Hunt arrive?" he asked, as he 
 signed what he called his " travelling name." 
 
 " Which one ? " the cler.k asked blandly. 
 
 " Why, Frederic, of course." 
 
 " About ten minutes ago. Want a room ? Well, 
 I'm sorry, but we are full to the roof. It often 
 happens close to the holiday season. We may 
 have one vacant before night ; shall I save it for 
 you?" 
 
 " Certainly," said Mr. Barnum. " Will you 
 send my card up to Hunt ? " 
 
 The bland and rosy clerk turned to a tall, digni- 
 fied-looking man who was standing near the coun- 
 
 10 
 
WHY THE CONFEDERACY FAILED 
 
 ter. He was in evening dress, and the garb 
 showed that he was either a gentleman preparing 
 to attend some social function or a dining-room 
 servant. His countenance and his air were those 
 of a man of the world. As a matter of fact, he 
 was the head waiter of the hotel and something 
 more. 
 
 "McCarthy," said the clerk, "will you shove 
 this into room 322 on your way to the dining room? 
 The porter will bring an answer." 
 
 "With pleasure, sir," replied the head waiter. 
 He took the card and marched up the stairway. 
 At room 322 he stopped and knocked, and en- 
 tered without an invitation. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, sir," he said; "I am the 
 head waiter. A gentleman has sent up his card." 
 
 " Well, I must shake hands with you, McCarthy. 
 Omahundro has been telling me about you." 
 
 "What a boy that is!" exclaimed the head 
 waiter. " And so this is Captain Flournoy ? Upon 
 my word, sir, we are well met. Do you know this 
 man Barnes ? Amos Barnes, it is. The cabman 
 was telling me that he came on your train from 
 Washington. He ordered his cab to follow yours, 
 and he has no baggage." 
 
 Captain Flournoy frowned slightly and then 
 smiled. "I'm green in this business," he said; 
 " but my impulse is to take the bull by the horns 
 
 iz 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 I shall invite this man up, and then deal with him 
 as circumstances suggest." 
 
 " I'll shake your hand once more," exclaimed 
 McCarthy, jubilantly. " Barring Omahundro, 
 you're the only one of the whole crew that 
 didn't want to crawl under the bed on the first 
 trip." 
 
 He went to the door, called to the porter, who 
 was waiting outside, and said, " Johnny, go down 
 and tell Mr. Barnes that Major Hunt will be glad 
 to see him in 322." 
 
 When Mr. Barnes entered the room, McCarthy, 
 the head waiter, was standing by the fireplace 
 talking. He was saying, "That boy of yours, 
 Major, has grown since last summer. I saw a 
 good deal of him when I went to Montpelier, and 
 the questions he asked about the city, sir ! 'Twould 
 amaze you. He's uptown at a matinee. Excuse 
 me, sir " this to the redoubtable Mr. Barnes, or 
 Barnum. 
 
 Captain Flournoy was politeness itself. He 
 placed a chair for his visitor and seated himself 
 on the side of the bed in an unceremonious 
 way. The head waiter bowed himself out. There 
 was a moment's hesitation on the part of the 
 detective. He also was to take the bull by the 
 horns. 
 
 " My friend," he said, squaring himself in his 
 12 
 
WHY THE CONFEDERACY FAILED 
 
 chair, " let us deal plainly with each other. 
 Your name is not Hunt, and my name is not 
 Barnes." 
 
 " In regard to personal matters you will speak 
 only for yourself," said Captain Flournoy with a 
 smile. 
 
 " Very well. I will speak now of a matter im- 
 personal. During the last few days a document 
 of immense importance has been abstracted from 
 the War Department." 
 
 "I am well aware of that," remarked Captain 
 Flournoy. " Otherwise I should be elsewhere at 
 this moment." 
 
 "It contains the outlines of plans that cannot 
 be changed at a moment's notice." 
 
 "Precisely." 
 
 " Now that document," said the detective, " is 
 worth to the Government at least five thousand 
 dollars in gold, much more, perhaps, certainly 
 not less." 
 
 Captain Flournoy placed one pillow on another 
 and leaned back in a restful attitude. "If I 
 thought the Government would pay no more than 
 five thousand dollars for the recovery of that doc- 
 ument, I wouldn't move a hand in the matter," he 
 declared. 
 
 The detective arose from his chair, and Captain 
 Flournoy sat bolt upright on the bed. 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 "Now what is the use of beating about the 
 bush ? " asked the detective. 
 
 "Don't be impertinent, my friend," said the 
 Captain. 
 
 " You are a Southerner." 
 
 " Why, so is General Thomas." 
 
 " I'll bet you ten dollars that the document is in 
 your valise there," declared the detective. 
 
 " Done ! " said the Captain, reaching out and 
 placing a gold piece on the table. Mr. Barnum 
 did likewise, whereupon Flournoy kicked the valise 
 toward him and pocketed the money. But the 
 detective refused to search the valise. Perhaps he 
 feared some trick. The frankness of his oppo- 
 nent was calculated to baffle him. 
 
 " I was mistaken," he said, and then hesi- 
 tated. 
 
 At that moment the door opened and McCarthy 
 stuck his head in. His face was convulsed with 
 laughter. " Excuse me, sir," he said, " but I 
 thought maybe you'd like to see a funny sight. 
 Two Government detectives have cornered a chap 
 in 328, and they're making him unload papers 
 enough to line the hotel pantry. If you want to 
 see 'em, sir, step right this way." 
 
 He came into the room, unlocked the connecting 
 door, and pointed with his hand. Two rooms 
 away angry voices could be heard in altercation. 
 
 14 
 
I'LL NOT SURRENDER THE 1'APER TO YOU. 
 
WHY THE CONFEDERACY FAILED 
 
 The three went as rapidly as they could, McCar- 
 thy bringing up the rear. 
 
 In 328 the gas was turned low. In one corner 
 was a man apparently at bay. He had a pistol in 
 his hand. Over against him were two men who 
 had him covered with Colt's revolvers. " I'll not 
 surrender the paper to you," he was saying. " I'll 
 see you dead and die myself first. You have 
 treated me like a dog." 
 
 " What is it all about ? " asked Mr. Barnum, 
 advancing into the room. The door behind him 
 closed, and the three men lowered their weapons. 
 
 The man who had been at bay in the corner 
 lounged up to the detective with a grin, saying, 
 "Well, I'll be switched, Colonel, if you ain't a 
 daisy from the county next adjoinin'." 
 
 " Come, sir ! " cried the head waiter. His voice 
 was harsh and stern, and his attitude was that 
 of a commanding officer. " Come, sir ! this is no 
 time for buffoonery ! " 
 
 " All right, Cap ; I only allowed for to kiss him 
 for his ma." 
 
 The head waiter laid his hand on the shoulder 
 of Mr. Alonzo Barnum. " You have no need to 
 be told what has happened. You were doing your 
 duty as you see it; we are doing ours. It rests 
 with you whether you leave this house with your 
 life." 
 
 15 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 McCarthy paused, passed his hand over his face, 
 and the gesture transformed him into a head waiter 
 again. He turned to Captain Flournoy with a 
 deferential smile. "Will you have dinner now, 
 sir? It is ready." 
 
 It is not necessary to relate here the experience 
 of Mr. Alonzo Barnum. It is sufficient to say 
 that he awoke one morning and found himself on 
 a vessel that a puffy little tug was towing through 
 the bay. In a little while the tug loosed its grip, 
 and the vessel, a Swedish bark, swung slowly 
 around in the current as the wind filled her sails. 
 Slowly city and harbour faded from view, and Mr. 
 Barnum was at the beginning of the long voyage 
 which he has so graphically described in his book. 
 What a pity he did not take it upon himself to 
 begin it by presenting the details of his experi- 
 ences immediately previous to his voyage. Such 
 an introduction would have given it a human as 
 well as a historical interest. 
 
 Captain Flournoy followed the head waiter down 
 the stairway to the second story, and so into the 
 dining room. He observed quite a flutter among 
 the waiters when their chief entered. It was as if 
 a military company had been suddenly given the 
 command, " Attention ! " 
 
 Captain Flournoy was conducted to the first 
 table to the left of the door as he entered. At this 
 
 16 
 
WHY THE CONFEDERACY FAILED 
 
 table he had no company, but before he had fin 
 ished the first course a guest had seated himself in 
 the chair opposite. This newcomer had hardly 
 given his order for soup and fish before the head 
 waiter approached Captain Flournoy with the most 
 deprecatory air, remarking : 
 
 "I'm very sorry, sir ; but the sauterne is out. 
 Is there nothing else on the card to your taste ? " 
 He held the card out, and across its face Captain 
 Flournoy saw written, " Watch out ! " 
 
 "No; I'll have a pony of brandy after dinner, 
 but that I can get at the bar," said the Captain. 
 
 " I'm sorry enough, sir. You could do better 
 than that in Montpelier; at your house, I mean, 
 sir not at the hotel. Oh, no not at the hotel," 
 the head waiter went on, keeping an eye on the 
 men under him. 
 
 " And yet," said the Captain with a smile, trans- 
 ferring his thoughts to his own home in the far 
 Southern town, " I used to think that the old hotel 
 was a very fine affair." 
 
 " Give me your wine card," the guest opposite 
 suddenly demanded. 
 
 "Certainly, sir," replied the head waiter, pro- 
 ducing it instantly. The guest took it, turned it 
 over, and remarked, "Why, I saw you writing on 
 it a while ago." 
 
 " What I wrote, sir, is in a very blunt hand. I 
 17 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 simply marked out the pints of sauterne." He 
 pointed to the erasure with the pencil which he 
 had in readiness for the guest's order. 
 
 Captain Flournoy leaned back in his chair and 
 wondered in what school of experience this hotel 
 servant had learned his adroitness, his tact, and 
 the composure which marked his acts and his 
 utterances. It was all so admirable and yet so 
 simple ; and there was a certain incongruity about 
 it, too, that caused the Captain to laugh inwardly, 
 though outwardly he was gravity itself. If the 
 whole scene had been especially devised to compel 
 the guest opposite to show his hand, it could not 
 have succeeded better. 
 
 Before the guest could return the card the head 
 waiter had gone to the door to usher in a number 
 of newcomers. When these had been comfortably 
 seated, he returned, took the card and examined it. 
 
 " No order, sir ? " 
 
 "A half pint of claret," said the guest, curtly. 
 Evidently his temper was somewhat ruffled. In 
 fact, he was hot, though the weather outside was 
 cold enough to make a pig squeal. He was rest- 
 less and expectant, too, for he moved nervously in 
 his chair, and drummed on the table, and kept his 
 eyes on the entrance. And his anxiety betrayed 
 itself even when his dinner had been served. 
 
 Several times the head waiter was called to the 
 18 
 
WHY THE CONFEDERACY FAILED 
 
 door and had conferences with persons in the cor 
 ridor. After one of the interviews, he returned 
 with a slip of paper in his hand, and went about 
 from guest to guest, showing it and apparently 
 making inquiries. Finally he came to Captain 
 Flournoy, still holding the slip of paper. 
 
 " Do you happen to know, sir, a gentleman by 
 the name of Barnes Amos Barnes ? " His voice 
 was modulated to the pitch of respectful anxiety. 
 
 " Why, I know him casually," Captain Flournoy 
 responded carelessly. " He called at my room an 
 hour ago." 
 
 " Do you see him in the dining room, sir ? There 
 is great inquiry for him ; he seems to be wanted at 
 the nearest telegraph office." 
 
 The Captain turned in his chair, putting on his 
 glasses as he did so, and glanced at the occupants 
 of the various tables. "No," he said presently; 
 " I see no one that resembles him." 
 
 " May I ask you an impertinent question ? " re- 
 marked the Captain's vis-a-vis, as the head waiter 
 resumed his place near the entrance. 
 
 " If it is a necessary one certainly." 
 
 " Why did Barnes go to your room ? " 
 
 " May I give you a frank reply ? " 
 
 " I should appreciate it." 
 
 " Well," said Captain Flournoy, " he called on 
 me because I was a stranger." 
 
 19 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 ** Did he explain his visit ? " 
 
 " He did ; he suspected that I was a Confederate 
 spy. He explained that a very important docu- 
 ment had been abstracted from one of the depart- 
 ments at Washington. To take the edge off his 
 duty he wagered that the document was in my 
 valise. He laid the wager and lost." 
 
 " If you will pardon me, sir, I'll say that you 
 don't look like a person who would permit his valise 
 to be searched in this way." 
 
 "Well, when Mr. Lincoln permits Stanton to 
 
 send him word that he's a fool, why should 
 
 the small fry resent the liberties taken with them 
 by those who are doing their duty ? " 
 
 Captain Flournoy leaned back in his chair and 
 regarded his opponent with a smile. As he did so, 
 the head waiter came forward with a deferential bow. 
 
 " Two gentlemen at the farther table, sir, request 
 that you join them before you go out," he said. 
 "They have a bottle between them, sir, and it 
 would be as well for some one to share it with 
 them." A peal of gleeful laughter and the clink- 
 ing of glasses justified the suggestion. 
 
 "I'll be with them in a moment," Flournoy 
 remarked. "Your venison is famous to-day, 
 McCarthy." 
 
 " So it is, sir ; so it is," assented the head waiter, 
 as he moved away. In a moment he had returned, 
 
 20 
 
WHY THE CONFEDERACY FAILED 
 
 ushering a new guest to the table at which Captain 
 Flournoy sat. This new guest by preference took 
 the chair next to the gentleman who had engaged 
 Flournoy in conversation. 
 
 " He can't be found," said the newcomer to his 
 neighbor. 
 
 " Well, he knows what he is about," remarked 
 the other, and then the two put their heads to- 
 gether and engaged in a confidential talk. 
 
 Flournoy took advantage of this to accept the 
 invitation extended him by the lively occupants of 
 another table at the farther end of the room. He 
 had never seen either of them before, but under 
 the circumstances this made no difference. They 
 made a very noisy demonstration over his arrival, 
 slapped him on the back, and displayed a familiar- 
 ity which at any other time Captain Flournoy would 
 have resented. They told jokes at his expense. 
 
 " Did you ever hear what Hunt said to his Brig- 
 adier when the latter reprimanded him for not 
 falling back before the rebels at Stony Creek?" 
 asked one in a loud voice. 
 
 " No ! no ! " cried the others ; " let's have it." 
 
 "Why," said the first one, drawing himself up, 
 and screwing a good-humoured countenance into an 
 appearance of severity, " he asked this question, 
 1 When was a soldier ever censured for standing his 
 ground?'" 
 
 31 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 There were cries of " Good ! " the sound of en- 
 thusiastic thumping on the table, and other symp- 
 toms of unusual hilarity that carry their own 
 explanation with them. 
 
 But in the midst of it all, one of Flournoy's 
 unknown friends gave him to understand that the 
 officers and detectives of the Secret Service were 
 stationed in the corridors, and that in all proba- 
 bility he would be placed under arrest the moment 
 he left the dining room. 
 
 "Well, what is to be will be," remarked the 
 Captain. 
 
 " McCarthy is coming this way," said the other, 
 " and as he's smiling we'll watch his manoeuvres." 
 
 In fact, the somewhat stern features of the head 
 waiter were beaming. He snapped his fingers, 
 and a waiter stationed himself behind the Captain's 
 chair. The head waiter snapped his fingers again, 
 and from the kitchen entry came swarming a 
 dozen waiters. They moved about from table to 
 table, crossing and recrossing one another, and 
 creating quite a stir, though the tables were now 
 well emptied of guests. From the front of the 
 dining room this movement must have seemed to 
 be very like confusion, but to an experienced eye 
 it was the result of much drilling and practice. 
 What it lacked was formality. 
 
 " There is a towel by your chair, sir," said the 
 
 22 
 
WHY THE CONFEDERACY FAILED 
 
 head waiter to Flournoy. "When you stoop to 
 pick it up, throw it over your left shoulder, turn 
 your back to the front, allow your head and 
 shoulders to droop, and then go out into the 
 kitchen." 
 
 There was no difficulty in following these in- 
 structions. The scheme was simplicity itself, so 
 transparent, indeed, that even suspicion would 
 pass it by. Before it was carried out the head 
 waiter had returned to the front, where he stood 
 almost immovable until the activity of the waiters 
 had subsided. In a few minutes the hilarious 
 guests who had called Flournoy to their table 
 came out. 
 
 " Didn't Hunt say he'd wait for us? " asked one, 
 as they came out. 
 
 " No, confound him ! " replied another loudly. 
 " He had to go to the telegraph office. He's 
 nothing but business." 
 
 " Pity, too," exclaimed a third ; " he'sh fine 
 feller." His voice was somewhat thick. 
 
 On each side of the door two men were stationed. 
 They made no display of their presence, but stood 
 in the attitude of men who had met by chance 
 and who had something interesting to say to one 
 another. But they narrowly eyed each guest as 
 he came out. Presently the last one, a stout, 
 middle-aged gentleman, a well-known habitue 1 of 
 
 23 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 the hotel, sauntered forth and took from the long 
 rack the last hat left, and walked down the corri- 
 dor to the stairway in the most amiable frame of 
 mind. He had made a big deal at the gold 
 exchange. He had bought the metal for a rise, 
 and greenbacks had dropped several cents on the 
 dollar. 
 
 As he disappeared, the head waiter came to the 
 entrance and closed one side of the double door. 
 The four men in the corridor regarded one another 
 tvith looks of mingled surprise and dismay. One 
 of them the man who had sat opposite to Cap- 
 tain Flournoy at the table beckoned to the head 
 waiter. 
 
 " Are you closing the dining room ? " he 
 asked. 
 
 " Not entirely, sir. We close the doors at four. 
 It is now three-fifty." 
 
 The questioner went to the door and looked in. 
 The dining room was entirely empty of guests, and 
 some of the waiters had begun to snip at one 
 another with their towels. 
 
 " What has become of the gentleman who sat at 
 table with me ? " he asked with some emphasis. 
 " There were two, sir," replied the head waiter, 
 deferentially. 
 
 " I mean the one who sat opposite." 
 
 "Major Hunt? Why, he joined a party at 
 
WHY THE CONFEDERACY FAILED 
 
 another table, but the bottle was moving too fast 
 to suit his taste, sir. He had been there not more 
 than ten minutes when he excused himself. I 
 think he went out before you did, sir." 
 
 "That is impossible," exclaimed the man, vigor- 
 ously. 
 
 " I am simply giving you my impression, sir," 
 rejoined the head waiter, politely. 
 
 " Why, I'll swear " the man began excit- 
 edly. Then, as if remembering himself, he paused 
 and stared helplessly. 
 
 " It seems unnatural, sir, that you shouldn't see 
 him come out if you were standing here." The 
 extreme suavity and simplicity of the head waiter 
 were in perfect keeping with his position. " He 
 left me a message for his son who is here. Says 
 he, 'Mack* he always calls me Mack, sir 
 ' Mack,' says he, ' when the lad comes in tell him 
 not to be uneasy if I fail to come in to-night. 
 ,Tell him,' says he, 'that I'm engaged on some 
 important Government business, and tell him to 
 meet me at the custom-house at ten to-morrow 
 morning.' It's a pity you didn't make an engage- 
 ment with him, sir, if you're obliged to see him. 
 He's a fine man, a fine man." 
 
 With that he turned and went into the dining 
 room. In a few minutes the door was closed and 
 locked, but the four men in the corridor still stared 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 at one another. Three of them were amazed, the 
 fourth seemed to be amused. 
 
 " Well, what did I tell you ? " he asked. 
 
 " I've made up my mind to arrest the head 
 waiter," said the one who had questioned McCarthy. 
 
 " This isn't Washington," said the amused one. 
 " Arrest him and in ten minutes you'll have an 
 Irish riot on your hands in which nobody would 
 be hurt but ourselves. Our orders are plain on 
 that score. We can't afford to stir up the popula- 
 tion. I suggest a cocktail all around. It will give 
 us strength to admit that we are mere bunglers by 
 the side of Barnum." 
 
 " I believe you," acquiesced another. " He has 
 been here, got what he came for, and is by this 
 time on his way to Washington." 
 
 It was this belief that shed a faint gleam of 
 light over a prospect otherwise gloomy. 
 
 Meanwhile, when Captain Flournoy went 
 through the swinging doors of the dining room 
 and found himself in the entryway leading to the 
 kitchen, he was in a quandary as to his further 
 movements. But every step he took seemed to 
 have been foreseen and provided for. He knew 
 that he had talked too freely to the guest who 
 sat at his table, but how could this emergency 
 have been forestalled ? He had left his hat on 
 the rack or shelf in the front of the dining room ' 
 
 36 
 
WHY THE CONFEDERACY FAILED 
 
 a waiter presented it to him the moment he 
 slipped into the entryway. He was in doubt what 
 course to pursue ; an elderly gentleman beckoned to 
 him with a smile. Following this venerable guide, 
 Flournoy went down a short flight of stairs and 
 into an apartment which he recognised as the 
 drying room of the laundry. Thence he went into 
 a narrow corridor, ascended three flights of stairs, 
 and was ushered into the apartment which had 
 served as a trap for Mr. Barnum, or, as he chose 
 to call himself, Mr. Amos Barnes. 
 
 Some changes had been made. Two hours ago 
 the room was bare but for a few chairs and a table, 
 but now there was a bed in the corner, a lounge, 
 and a comfortable-looking rocker. The table held 
 pens, ink, and writing-paper, and a brisk fire was 
 burning in the grate. Everything had a comfort- 
 able and cosey appearance. 
 
 After the strain under which he had been, it 
 was not difficult for Captain Flournoy to adapt 
 himself to such circumstances. He drew the 
 rocker before the fire and gave himself up to 
 reflections which, whether pleasing or not, were of 
 a character to engross his mind so completely 
 that he failed to hear the door swing open. 
 Presently a hand was laid on his shoulder and he 
 came back to earth with a start. The head waiter 
 stood over him smiling. 
 
 27 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 " Have a chair, my friend," said Flournoy. 
 " You have placed me under great obligations." 
 
 " We have had a very close shave, and that's a 
 fact," remarked McCarthy, "but you are under 
 no obligations to me. It's all in the way of duty." 
 The air, the attitude of an upper servant had 
 vanished completely, and Flournoy was experi- 
 enced enough to know that he was talking to a 
 man of the world capable of commanding men. 
 " I am a head waiter for precisely the same reason 
 that you are a " 
 
 " Spy ? " suggested Flournoy, as the other hesi- 
 tated. 
 
 " No ; there's a flavour to that word that doesn't 
 suit my taste. Let's call it scout, or inspector, or 
 better still military attach^." 
 
 "I am simply a messenger," said Flournoy, 
 modestly. 
 
 "It is your first experience, I imagine," sug- 
 gested McCarthy. " You are a soldier, and you 
 don't relish the undertaking." 
 
 " That is the truth," Flournoy assented. 
 
 "Well, I was a Captain in the Navy," explained 
 McCarthy, " and now I am what you see me." 
 
 "You are still a Captain of the Navy," said 
 Flournoy ; " the house is your ship, and the dining 
 room is your quarter-deck." 
 
 McCarthy laughed gleefully. " I have had 
 28 
 
WHY THE CONFEDERACY FAILED 
 
 the same conceit oh, hundreds of times!" he 
 cried. 
 
 They talked a long time, touching on a great 
 variety of topics, and found themselves in hearty 
 agreement more often than not. Finally they 
 drifted back to the matter in hand, and Flournoy 
 confided to McCarthy that one of the papers with 
 which he had been intrusted was of so much impor- 
 tance that he had decided to deliver it in person. 
 
 " Should this document reach Richmond by the 
 first of February," he said, "the Federal Army 
 will be captured, Washington will fall, and the 
 war will be over by the first of May." 
 
 " Are you sure ? " McCarthy inquired. 
 
 " Quite sure," the other assented. 
 
 At this McCarthy ceased to ask questions or to 
 make comments, but sat for a long time gazing in 
 the fire. Flournoy forbore to interrupt his reflec- 
 tions, and the most absolute silence reigned in the 
 room. 
 
 Presently McCarthy straightened himself in his 
 chair. "The documents you left with the com- 
 mittee this afternoon will reach Richmond in five 
 days," he remarked somewhat dryly. "They 
 start at midnight." 
 
 This seemed to be so much in the nature of a 
 suggestion that Flournoy was moved to ask his 
 advice. 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 " Shall I include this document with the other 
 papers ? " he inquired earnestly. 
 
 McCarthy shook his head slowly and indeci- 
 sively. " It's a serious question," he said. " Ten 
 minutes ago, on an impulse, I should have said 
 send it with the rest by all means by all means ; 
 but now Do you know," he went on, with 
 great earnestness, " I am getting to be superstitious 
 about this war. Look at it for yourself." He 
 waved his hand as if calling attention to a pano- 
 rama spread out on the walls of the room. " First, 
 there is Mr. Lincoln. He went to Washington a 
 country boor. What is he now ? Why, he 
 manages the politicians, the officials, the whole 
 lot, precisely as a chess-player manages his 
 pieces, and he never makes a mistake. Doesn't 
 that seem queer ? " 
 
 Captain Flournoy, gazing in the glowing grate, 
 nodded his head. Some such idea had already 
 crossed his mind. 
 
 " Then there's the first Manassas Bull Run," 
 McCarthy went on. " Does it seem natural that 
 a victorious army which had utterly routed its 
 enemy would fail to pursue the advantage? Is 
 it according to human nature ? " 
 
 Again Flournoy nodded. 
 
 " Finally, take into consideration the case of the 
 Merrimac" continued McCarthy. " She had 
 
 30 
 
WHY THE CONFEDERACY FAILED 
 
 barely begun to perform the work she was cut out 
 to do when around the corner came the Monitor, 
 a match and more than a match for her. Does 
 that look like an accident, or even a coinci- 
 dence ? " 
 
 At this Captain Flournoy turned in his chair 
 and regarded his companion with a very grave 
 countenance. 
 
 "Do you know," remarked McCarthy, "that I 
 had everything arranged to take charge of the 
 Merrimac? It was a very great disappointment 
 to me when it was found that she couldn't be 
 manoeuvred to advantage." 
 
 "You think, then, that Providence " Flour- 
 noy hesitated to speak the words in his mind. 
 
 "Judge for yourself. You have the facts. I 
 could mention other circumstances, but these three 
 stand out. As an old friend of mine used to say, 
 they toot out like pot-legs." 
 
 " But if you think Providence has a hand in the 
 matter, why call yourself superstitious ? " Flournoy 
 inquired. 
 
 " 'Twas a convenient way of introducing what I 
 had to say," replied McCarthy. 
 
 Silence fell on the two for a time. Finally 
 McCarthy resumed the subject. " You say this 
 document will enable the Confederates to win the 
 day and put an end to the war ? " 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 "I do," Flournoy insisted; "I believe so sin 
 cerely. It embodies plans that cannot possibly be 
 altered because the success of the Federals depends 
 upon them, and it will enable General Lee and the 
 Confederate authorities to checkmate every move 
 made by our enemies on land from now on. Do 
 you know that in the early spring Grant is to be 
 given command of all the Federal forces? That 
 is the least important information the document 
 contains." 
 
 "A truly comprehensive paper," remarked 
 McCarthy gravely. " It falls directly in the 
 category of Lincoln, Manassas, and the Merri- 
 mac, and we shall see what we shall see." 
 
 "You are certain the rest of the papers will 
 reach Richmond safely ? " Flournoy asked. 
 
 " Those you turned over to the committee ? As 
 certain as that I am sitting here." 
 
 "Then let us place this other document with 
 them," suggested Flournoy. 
 
 " If you think it best, certainly," said McCarthy 
 with alacrity. 
 
 Flournoy reflected a moment. " No ; I'll carry 
 out my first impulse," he declared. He rose and 
 paced across the room once or twice. Then he 
 turned suddenly to McCarthy. " Shall we toss 
 a penny ? " he asked. 
 
 "No! no!" cried the other, with a protesting 
 32 
 
WHY THE CONFEDERACY FAILED 
 
 gesture. "It is folly to match chance against 
 Providence." 
 
 "Then the matter is settled," said Flournoy, 
 decisively. 
 
 " It was settled long ago," McCarthy remarked 
 solemnly. 
 
 The Southern soldier looked hard at his com- 
 panion, trying to find in his countenance an inter- 
 pretation of his remark. But McCarthy's face 
 was almost grim in its impassiveness. 
 
 He arose as Flournoy resumed his seat. "You 
 will have your supper here, and your breakfast 
 also. To-morrow morning you may be able to 
 start on your journey. Do you go west or north ? 
 Ah, west ; but it is a long way round. Did you 
 ever try the Cumberland route ? Omahundro would 
 know which is the easiest." 
 
 "He advised the western route because I am 
 familiar with it," explained Flournoy. 
 
 McCarthy bowed, and in doing so became the 
 head waiter again. The deferential smile flickered 
 about his stern mouth, and then flared up, as it 
 were, changing all the lines of the face ; and the 
 straight and stalwart shoulders stooped forward 
 a little so that humility might seat itself in the 
 saddle. 
 
 " I must be going about my duties, sir," he said. 
 " I may call to bid you good night. If I should 
 
 33 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 not, may your dreams be pleasant." He bowed 
 himself out, and Flournoy sat wondering at the 
 fortunes of war and the curious demands of duty 
 which had made a spy of him and a head waiter 
 of Lawrence McCarthy. He mused over the 
 matter until he fell asleep in his chair, where he 
 nodded comfortably until a waiter touched him 
 on the arm and informed him his supper was 
 served. 
 
 " Did you think I had company ? " Flournoy 
 asked. " You've brought enough for Company B 
 of the Third Georgia." 
 
 "'Tis a sayin', sir, that travel sharpens the 
 appetite," said the waiter, smiling brightly. Then, 
 "The Third Georgia is Colonel Nisbet's ridgment; 
 'tis in Ranse Wright's brigade. To be sure, I know 
 'em well, sir. Should ye be goin' to Augusty, an' 
 chance to see James Nagle, kindly tell 'im ye've 
 seen Terence an' he's doin' well. He's me father, 
 sir, an' he thinks I'm in Elmiry prison." 
 
 "How did you get out? Did you take the 
 oath?" 
 
 " Bless ye, sir, 'twas too strong for me stomach. 
 I'll never tell ye, sir, whether I escaped by acci- 
 dent or design. 'Twas this way, sir. I was in 
 the hospital, sir, an' whin I got stronger, Father 
 Rafferty, seem' my need of trousers, brought me a 
 pair of blue ones. The next day he comes in a 
 
 34 
 
WHY THE CONFEDERACY FAILED 
 
 barouche along with an officer. He says to me, 
 ' Terence, here's a coat to go with the trousers/ 
 says he. ' Ye see the man drivin' the barouche ? ' 
 says he. * Well,' says he, ' whin I go inside, he'll 
 fall down an' have a fit,' says he, ' an' do ye be 
 ready/ he says, ' to hold the horses whiles I sind 
 out the doctor/ he says. Well, sir, 'twas like a 
 theatre advertisement. Down comes the man with 
 a fit, an' if he had one spasm, he had forty. The 
 horses were for edging away, sir, but I caught 'em 
 an' helt 'em. 'Take 'im inside/ says the officer, 
 ' an' 'tend to 'im/ he says, ' an' do ye, me man/ he 
 says to me, 'get up there an' drive me back to 
 quarters/ he says. ' How about Father Rafferty ?' 
 I says. 'Oh, as fer that/ he says, 'he'll be took 
 with a fever if son Terence turns out to be a driv- 
 elin' idjut/ he says. I looked at 'im hard, sir, an' 
 
 he looked at me. Says he, ' D ye, will ye 
 
 drive on ? ' It was Captain McCarthy, sir." 
 
 Flournoy laughed, though he would have found 
 it difficult to explain why. The reason doubtless 
 was that such boldness and simplicity seemed so 
 foreign to our complex civilization that they struck 
 the note of incongruity. "He is a queer man," he 
 remarked. 
 
 "Queer, sir?" said the waiter. "Oh, no, sir; 
 not queer. He's simple as a little child. He's a 
 grand man, sir nothin' less than that." There 
 
 35 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 was no doubt of Terence Nagle's enthusiastic 
 loyalty to his employer. 
 
 Supper was duly despatched, the waiter enliven- 
 ing the meal with many anecdotes of his own expe- 
 rience in the Confederate Army and in prison. 
 Flournoy found that they had many acquaintances 
 in common, and more than once when Terence 
 was for returning to the dining room, the guest 
 found various excuses for detaining him. 
 
 But he went at last, after replenishing the fire, 
 and Captain Flournoy sat long before it, wonder- 
 ing over the chain of circumstances by which he 
 had been dragged, rather than led, into his present 
 position. He took no thought of time, and was 
 surprised when he heard a clock in a distant room 
 strike eleven. By the time the sound had died 
 away a gentle tap at the door attracted his atten- 
 tion, and, following his invitation, Terence Nagle 
 came in, bearing a waiter on which was a bowl, a 
 silver ladle, and three glasses. In another moment 
 the head waiter came in. He had doffed his even- 
 ing dress, the badge of his position, and with it 
 dropped the air and manner he assumed in the 
 dining room. He was now himself, the educated 
 Irishman, a fine specimen of a class that can be 
 matched in few of the nations of the earth. 
 
 " Do you know the day ? " he asked when, obey- 
 ing Flournoy's gesture, he seated himself. 
 
 36 
 
WHY THE CONFEDERACY FAILED 
 
 " Yes," replied the Southerner, " it is Christmas 
 Eve." 
 
 "And hard upon Christmas," said McCarthy. 
 "I hope that our Lord who is risen will have 
 mercy upon us all, and help us to carry out all 
 our plans that are not contrary to His own." 
 
 " Amen ! " responded Flournoy. It was like 
 grace before meat, only simpler and less formal. 
 
 " Remembering the day, and the custom we 
 have at the South," McCarthy explained, " I have 
 taken the liberty of brewing you a bowl of nog. 
 'Twill be a reminder of old times, if nothing else." 
 
 Flournoy's face brightened. " My friend, you 
 seem to think of everything," he declared. " The 
 very flavour of it will carry me straight home." 
 
 " 'Twas no thought of mine. I have a little lass 
 who comes to fetch me my toggery in the after- 
 noons. I was telling her of the Southern gentle- 
 man so far from home, and her eyes filled with 
 tears, and says she, ' Dada, darling, why not make 
 the gentleman a bowl of nog for his Christmas 
 gift ? ' It is wonderful how thoughtful the women- 
 folk are, and how tender-hearted. I'll fill your 
 glass, sir." 
 
 " And yours," insisted Flournoy. 
 
 " To be sure," cried McCarthy, " and one for my 
 lieutenant, Terence Nagle. See the lad blush! 
 You'd think he was a girl by the way he reddens, 
 
 37 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 Yet with half a dozen men like him I could meet a 
 company of regulars." 
 
 " He's overdoin' it, sir ! " Terence protested ; 
 "he's overdoin' it." The lad was so overcome 
 he dropped a glass on the floor, but the carpet 
 saved it. 
 
 "Were you ever drunk?" McCarthy asked, 
 after they had made away with the nog. The 
 inquiry was bluntly put, and Flournoy looked 
 hard at his companion. 
 
 "Yes; once when I was a youngster of fourteen. 
 It was at a corn-shucking," he replied. 
 
 "Well, recall your feelings and actions if you 
 can. To-morrow morning you must not only be 
 drunk you must be very drunk." 
 
 " I don't understand," said Flournoy. 
 
 " To-morrow morning a cabman will be waiting 
 for a fare on the other side of the street, opposite 
 this window. The blinds must be opened early, 
 but some one will attend to that. If the sun is 
 shining, the cabman will take out his watch. The 
 hour will be anywhere from nine to ten. The sun 
 will shine on the face of his watch, and the reflec- 
 tion will be thrown on the wall of your room. If 
 the sun is obscured, you will hear a policeman's 
 rattle. Then your spree must begin. And make 
 it a jolly one. Here is a small pistol loaded with 
 blank cartridges. Use it at your discretion. At 
 
 38 
 
WHY THE CONFEDERACY FAILED 
 
 the head of the stairs you will fall into the arms of 
 a big policeman, who will be joined by another. 
 Take no offence if they hustle you. A bruise or 
 two won't hurt you. It is all for the good of the 
 cause." 
 "But " 
 
 " It's our only chance. I can see that you have 
 a temper ; don't lose it with our friends, the police- 
 men. They will have a very critical crowd to play 
 to, and must play as if they meant business. I 
 must bid you good night." 
 
 " One moment," said Flournoy. He drew from 
 his pocket a five-dollar gold piece and laid it on 
 the table. 
 
 McCarthy drew back, his face flushing. " What 
 -is that for? " he asked sternly. 
 
 " It is a Christmas gift for your daughter." 
 " For Nora ! " cried the other ; " why, she'll be 
 the happiest lass in the town ! " His eyes sparkled 
 and his whole manner changed. " This must be 
 my real good night," he went on. " I have work 
 to do and you will need rest." He went out, fol- 
 lowed by Terence. 
 
 Captain Flournoy was up betimes, his plantation 
 habits following him wherever he went. But he 
 was not a man on whose hands time hung heavily. 
 Just now one of his windows commanded a view 
 of about twenty feet of Broadway, and he watched, 
 
 39 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 with more interest than usual, the fluctuating stream 
 of humanity that flowed through it. When he grew 
 tired of that panorama, he had his own thoughts 
 for company, and the thoughts that are bred by a 
 cheerful disposition are the best of companions. 
 And then he had in his pocket a copy of Virgil. 
 Under such circumstances only a man with a bad 
 conscience could be either lonely or gloomy. 
 
 Presently his breakfast came, and by the time 
 Terence had cleared away the fragments nine 
 o'clock had struck, and the sky, which had been 
 overcast in the early morning hours, was clear. 
 At nine, too, a closed cab came leisurely from 
 the direction of Washington Square and took up 
 its position in the side street opposite the ladies' 
 entrance of the hotel. From behind the curtains 
 Flournoy watched the driver closely, and never 
 once did the man give so much as a side glance 
 at the upper windows of the hotel. His curiosity 
 seemed to be dead. For a while he read a news- 
 paper, nor did he cease from reading when a man, 
 passing quickly by, pitched a small valise into the 
 cab. But presently the paper palled on him, and 
 he folded it neatly and tucked it away under the 
 cushion. Then he looked at the sun, and, as if to 
 verify the time of day, pulled out his watch and 
 sprung the case open. The reflection from the 
 crystal, or from the burnished case, flashed through 
 
 40 
 
WHY THE CONFEDERACY FAILED 
 
 Flournoy's window, and danced upon the wall, once, 
 twice, thrice. 
 
 Now was the time to act, and act promptly, but 
 Flournoy paused and drew a long breath. The 
 whole business seemed to be child's play. He 
 seized his overcoat by one sleeve, slung it over his 
 shoulder, threw open the door, gave a fox-hunter's 
 view-halloo, the same that is called the "rebel 
 yell," fired two blank cartridges, and went stag- 
 gering blindly along the corridor, crying, " There 
 'e goes ! there 'e goes ! I'll shoot 'im. Out o' the 
 way an' lemme shoot 'im ! " 
 
 At the head of the stairs a policeman loomed up 
 as big as a giant. " Come out o' this, ye maun- 
 derin' divil ! " he cried. " They tell me ye've been 
 kapin' the house awake the livelong night. Be 
 aisy, or I'll twist yure dommed neck, ye dribblin' 
 idjit!" 
 
 " Fling 'im down to me, Tim, while I whale the 
 jimmies out av 'im. 'Tis the second time the 
 howlin' divil has broke loose the fortnight." This 
 from the policeman at the foot of the stairs. 
 
 Now, while these policemen were talking, they 
 were also acting. They cuffed Flournoy about 
 between them, and knocked and dragged and bun- 
 dled him along with a zeal that was almost unbear- 
 able. By the time they reached the sidewalk he 
 was limp and exhausted, but he did not fail to 
 
 4' 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 notice that Terence Nagle was prominent in the 
 considerable crowd collected there. 
 
 "Take 'im to the hospital, Tim; 'tis the only 
 way to clear the jimmies from his head." 
 
 " The hospital ! " cried Terence Nagle ; " an' if 
 he was a poor man, he'd be hauled to the station 
 an' be left there ! " 
 
 " Ain't it the truth ! " exclaimed a keen-faced, 
 shabby-looking man. 
 
 " Cheese it ! " cried the policeman who had been 
 left behind ; " cheese it an' move on, ivery livin* 
 sowl av ye ! " 
 
 By this time the cab was rattling away up Fifth 
 Avenue. " You fellows have heavy hands," said 
 Flournoy to his companion when he had pulled 
 himself together. 
 
 " Faith, we had to limber ye up, Cap. Why, ye 
 don't know the A B C av a jag. Whin ye landed 
 me one in the jaw, I says to meself, ' Bed ad, av he 
 goes down hittin' straight an' hard like this, he'll 
 be nabbed be thim keenies at the dure,' says I, an' 
 I tipped the wink to Moike an' we doubled ye up 
 same ez jinin' the Improved Order av Red Min, 
 sorr. All we needed to give the job reg'larity, 
 sorr, was the pile-driver." 
 
 At Fortieth Street the cab halted, the policeman 
 shook hands with Flournoy and got out, and in a 
 very short time thereafter the latter found himself 
 
 43 
 
WHY THE CONFEDERACY FAILED 
 
 at the passenger station of the New York Central. 
 He descended from the cab, and was about to pay 
 the fare when the cabman lifted his hat with 
 " Good luck to you, sir," touched up his horse and 
 went whirling away. 
 
 Two weeks afterward, Captain Flournoy, with a 
 companion, a scout who knew the country well, 
 was feeling his way southward through West Vir- 
 ginia. They had good horses, but travelled mainly 
 at night As they drew near the Virginia line, 
 Flournoy's uneasiness became perceptible. The 
 important document he carried became a burden 
 almost intolerable to him, whereas the scout, one 
 James Kirkpatrick, grew gayer and gayer with 
 each passing hour. While Flournoy was riding 
 gloomily along, Kirkpatrick was whistling or sing- 
 ing softly all the lilting tunes he knew. One 
 night, in a heavily wooded valley, the wayfarers 
 scented danger. They heard a horse whinnying, 
 the clinking of spurs, and the rattling of sabres or 
 carbines. 
 
 " It's the Yanks," said Kirkpatrick. 
 
 " You know this country, you say ? " queried 
 Flournoy. 
 
 " Like a book," replied the other. 
 
 " Well, here is a paper as important to the Con- 
 federacy as Lee's army. Stow it in an inner 
 pocket, and if anything should happen to me, do 
 
 43 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 you ride right on to Richmond. You have the fate 
 of your country in your hands." 
 
 " Phew ! " whistled Kirkpatrick softly. In- 
 stantly a voice cried " Halt ! " 
 
 "Do you save yourself," said Flournoy, and 
 spurred forward, while Kirkpatrick turned to the 
 left, struck a footpath, and went clattering away 
 in the gloom. Captain Flournoy spurred for- 
 ward and found himself in the arms of the 
 Confederate videttes. In a moment he heard 
 shots as of skirmishers firing and falling back. 
 In the distance they heard the drums beating to 
 arms. 
 
 "Your friend has stampeded a whole Yankee 
 brigade," remarked one of the videttes. 
 
 But this was a mistake. Kirkpatrick was lying 
 dead not a mile away, killed by a stray bullet. It 
 was his horse running wild that disturbed the Fed- 
 eral camp. 
 
 Next morning the Federals advanced, feeling 
 their way cautiously. One of their skirmishers, 
 a German, found Kirkpatrick stark and stiff. He 
 appropriated the dead man's overcoat, searched 
 his pockets for valuables, and found the document 
 that was to decide the fate of the Confederacy. 
 He looked at it critically, crumpled it in his hand, 
 and made as if to throw it away. A second 
 thought caused him to cram it in one of his 
 
 44 
 
WHY THE CONFEDERACY FAILED 
 
 pockets, where it remained until he needed some- 
 thing with which to light his pipe. 
 
 On the fourth of the following March Grant was 
 made General-in-Chief of the land forces of the 
 United States, and the programme set forth in the 
 paper Grant's move on Virginia and Sherman's 
 march to the sea was promptly begun and car- 
 ried out 
 
IN THE ORDER OF PROVI- 
 DENCE 
 
IN THE ORDER OF PROVIDENCE 
 
 IT is impossible for the present generation to 
 realise the nature and extent of the wound in- 
 flicted on the Southern people of that day by the 
 surrender of Lee's army in 1865 ; and assuredly 
 it is beyond description. No historian will ever 
 be able to explain it or make its characteristics 
 manifest to the modern mind. It is fortunate, 
 perhaps, that this is so. A population can go 
 through such an experience but once in its his- 
 tory. No disaster that might overtake us now 
 could match that which marked the defeat and 
 dissolution of the Confederate Army. And the 
 reason lies on the surface : it is an experience that 
 makes provision against itself. On the tender 
 hand unused to labour a blister is succeeded by a 
 callous, and so it is with the heart. Sensibilities 
 wounded and torn can never again respond as 
 sharply and as keenly to the pangs of misfortune 
 and disappointment. One journey through the 
 furnace of despair gives a long vacation to those 
 qualities that are as rare and as fine as the rain- 
 bow sheen on a piece of silk as restless and as 
 vivid. And there is something grievous and un- 
 
 49 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 comfortable in the consolation that time offers, for 
 qualities thus consumed will hardly be missed save 
 by those who have been witnesses to the beauty 
 and perfection of their play, and who knew their 
 import. 
 
 The miracle of dissolution happened. The 
 earthquake arose, shook itself, yawned and fell 
 back into its abyss, carrying with it the whole 
 structure and fabric of a newly formed govern- 
 ment and the dearest hopes of those who had con- 
 tributed to its upbuilding. Hundreds of men and 
 women never recovered from the shock. Some of 
 them pined away and died ; others lived on, as it 
 were, in a dream; while still others, cast in an 
 adventurous mould, betook themselves into self- 
 imposed exile. 
 
 Among these exiles was Colonel Fontaine Flour- 
 noy, who had risked his life on many fields and in 
 divers ways in behalf of the Confederacy. Some 
 of the undertakings in which he engaged were 
 such as most men shrank from, but he, as his 
 name implied, came from a family given over to 
 valorous deeds and romantic adventures ; for this 
 name comes down from the days of chivalry, when 
 the Knight of the Black Flower (Fleur Noire) made 
 his nom de guerre so famous that it usurped the 
 place of the family surname. 
 
 Taking all these things into consideration, it is 
 5 
 
IN THE ORDER OF PROVIDENCE 
 
 small wonder that Colonel Flournoy considered 
 himself an exile and a wanderer a man without 
 a country from the moment that Lee surren- 
 dered his army. He was an officer in the Confed- 
 erate Army on detached service. Two weeks 
 before the surrender he was in New York City ; a 
 week afterward he was piloting the remnants of 
 the Confederate Government southward, and lend- 
 ing active assistance in guarding the treasure which 
 was carried along with it. 
 
 At Washington, in Wilkes County, Georgia, this 
 treasure was divided, and an amount sufficiently 
 large fell to Colonel Flournoy's share to enable 
 him to carry out his purposes. He pushed on to 
 Middle Georgia, where his home was ; made provi- 
 sion for the wants of his wife and son, a lad of six- 
 teen ; bade them good-by, and, with General Toombs 
 for a companion, made his way to the Florida coast. 
 Here the two Confederates parted company. 
 Toombs went to Europe, while Flournoy went to 
 Cuba, and from that island found his way to South 
 America. 
 
 His adventures in those queer republics, seeth- 
 ing with revolutions, rebellions, and riots, were 
 numerous enough to fill a book of romance; but 
 it is sufficient to say that in the course of five 
 years he returned home with a fortune consider- 
 ably larger than the one which war had taken 
 
 SI 
 
 UNIVERSITY QF U. UNO| | 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 from him. He returned, bent on enjoying a life 
 of elegant ease after his turbulent career. But 
 the best part of his vigour was spent. To sustain 
 himself in the Civil War and in the South Ameri- 
 can troubles, where he had seated and unseated 
 more than one government, he had been com- 
 pelled to employ the store of energy that should 
 have been reserved for old age to draw upon. He 
 had enjoyed the companionship of his family and 
 his friends not more than a year when he fell a 
 victim to a disease, the seeds of which he had 
 brought with him from the tropical swamps and 
 jungles where his later campaigns had carried 
 him. 
 
 It need not be said that the death of Colonel 
 Flournoy occasioned deep grief to all who knew 
 him. Where his personal friendship had not an 
 opportunity to go his gentle courtesy went, and 
 even those who had been made the object of one 
 of his casual salutations regarded him thereafter 
 as something more than an acquaintance. His 
 obsequies were very imposing by reason of the 
 multitude that gathered together to pay the last 
 tribute of respect to the memory of the most nota- 
 ble private citizen of Middle Georgia. 
 
 So far as Colonel Flournoy's immediate neigh- 
 bours were concerned, there was one disclosure fol- 
 lowing hard upon the heels of the funeral discourse 
 
IN THE ORDER OF PROVIDENCE 
 
 (delivered with such genuine feeling and simple 
 eloquence by Rev. Sampson White) that for a time 
 stopped the mouth of friendly reminiscence and 
 put curiosity on tiptoe. It had been the Colonel's 
 wish that, after all had been said over his remains 
 that grief could suggest or friendship devise, his 
 last will and testament should be opened and read 
 in the presence of his neighbours before they had 
 dispersed. It was a whim, perhaps, but it was of 
 a piece with the openness and candour of the man. 
 
 The duty of reading the will devolved on Judge 
 Vardeman, a close friend of the family, and his 
 sonorous voice rang out even more effectively than 
 had the soft and persuasive tones of Rev. Sampson 
 White, so much so that Mrs. Betsey Nicklin con- 
 tended as long as she lived that it would have been 
 better and more helpful in every way if the Judge 
 had preached the sermon, leaving the preacher to 
 read the legal document. Colonel Flournoy was 
 very rich, and it was known beforehand that he 
 intended to add to the endowments of various insti- 
 tutions, and to leave legacies to a number of his 
 friends, but the bequest which gave a fillip to curi- 
 osity and left a large field in which gossip and 
 inquisitiveness might play was as follows : 
 
 " And remembering with constant and increas- 
 ing affection the services rendered to me person- 
 ally and to the sacred cause in which the Southern 
 
 53 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 people had embarked by my dear friend, Lawrence 
 McCarthy, who, from May i, 1862, to April 30, 
 1865, acted as head waiter of the New York Hotel 
 in New York City, I do hereby will, devise, and 
 bequeath to him, his heirs and assigns forever, the 
 house and lot known as the Pearson Place and the 
 plantation lying contiguous thereto, the said lot and 
 contiguous plantation being fully described in the 
 deeds marked F and G; and in addition to this 
 bequest and devisement I do hereby make it the 
 duty of my executors hereinafter named to pay 
 into the hands of the aforesaid Lawrence McCar- 
 thy, or his surviving heirs if he have any, the sum 
 of ten thousand ($10,000) dollars in cash, the same 
 to be paid on the eve of the Christmas next ensu- 
 ing after my death. And I hereby make it the 
 duty of my son, Francis Flournoy, to seek out the 
 aforesaid Lawrence McCarthy, or his heirs if he be 
 dead, and I lay it upon him as a solemn charge to 
 be diligent and zealous in all ways in carrying out 
 the terms of this clause of my last will and testa- 
 ment ; all incurred expenses to be paid equally out 
 of each share of my estate save that which is herein 
 set apart for the benefit and behoof of the said Law- 
 rence McCarthy, his heirs and assigns." 
 
 Now, assuredly, here was matter for gossip to 
 busy itself about, for the Pearson Place was 
 marked by one of the most elaborate and best- 
 
 54 
 
IN THE ORDER OF PROVIDENCE 
 
 preserved specimens of colonial architecture to be 
 found " south of the Jeems River," as the saying 
 is. The site was commanding, and, rising two 
 and a half stories, the old structure seemed to take 
 a certain grandeur from its surroundings. The 
 plantation attached to it and made part of the 
 bequest comprised not less than four hundred 
 acres of the richest land in a county noted for the 
 fertility of its soil. 
 
 And this historic old house and this splendid 
 plantation were to fall into the hands of a total 
 stranger a man whom Rockville had never 
 heard of, and a Yankee at that; not only a 
 Yankee, but a hotel waiter! 
 
 Mrs. Betsey Nicklin, who was the mouthpiece 
 of a great many people less outspoken than she, 
 could make neither head nor tail to this deviae- 
 ment. She said as much to her husband when 
 the two had returned home from the funeral. 
 
 " I've been knowin' Fountain Flournoy more'n 
 forty year," she said, " and if anybody had 'a' up 
 and told me that he'd wind up his business wi' 
 sech doin's as that I'd 'a' felt like knockin* 'em 
 down. But I'm not a bit surprised not a bit. 
 There never was a better man, I'll say that much ; 
 but Fountain was a man, and there never was a 
 man that didn't have a screw loose some'rs. Some 
 are too lazy to show it, and some die before they 
 
 55 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 git a chance; but if they ain't shiftless and live 
 long enough, they'll show a weak spot." 
 
 " Some on 'em show it when they git married," 
 said Mr. Nicklin. 
 
 "You'd 'a' show'd it if I'd V let you," responded 
 Mrs. Betsey. " You know as well as I do, Wesley, 
 that if it hadn't 'a' been for me you'd 'a' married old 
 Moll Coy, and what would you 'a' looked like now? " 
 
 " Well, I ain't so mighty certain, Betsey, that I 
 look one whit better than Martin Coy. I met 'im 
 t'other night roamin' about in the moonlight, and 
 whilst he wouldn't speak when spoken to, I don't 
 know but what he looked every bit and grain as 
 good as arry other man in the county. He had 
 on his Sunday duds, for one thing." 
 
 "You didn't tell me about it, Wesley," Mrs. 
 Nicklin declared with some asperity. 
 
 " You didn't ax me to," her spouse responded. 
 
 She gave him what she called a "look"; it was 
 one of her methods of crushing her opponents. 
 Mr. Nicklin didn't wither as he might have been 
 expected to do. One reason was that he was a 
 man past middle age ; another reason was that he 
 was at that moment engaged in grinding some dry 
 tobacco cuttings between the hard palms of his 
 strong hands to fit them for service in his pipe. 
 
 " Where did you see him, Wesley ? " Mrs. Nick- 
 lin inquired. Her tone was imperative, as it 
 
 5* 
 
IN THE ORDER OF PROVIDENCE 
 
 always was when she desired to attract her hus- 
 band's undivided attention. 
 
 "See who, Betsey? Oh Martin Coy; why, I 
 seed 'im comin' out'n Colonel Flournoy's front 
 gate. 'Twas the night the Colonel died." 
 
 "You reckon he killed him? He's none too 
 good to do it," declared Mrs. Nicklin. 
 
 Her husband turned upon her with amazement 
 in his face. 
 
 " Why, Betsey ! " he declared, " you'll let your 
 tongue run on till you have a lie-bill took out agin' 
 you ; and when that's done, don't you run to me 
 for to bail you out. No ; I'll let the law take its 
 course." 
 
 " Tipsy, topsy, toddle ; dolly broke its noddle ! " 
 cried Mrs. Nicklin, sarcastically. "When did I 
 ever run to you to get me out of trouble ? " 
 
 "Why, when you sent me word that you 
 had set your cap for me," replied Mr. Nicklin, 
 promptly. 
 
 Whereupon his wife indulged in a fit of hearty 
 laughter, remarking, " If there ever was a goose 
 in this world, I got him when I got you." 
 
 "You've tried hard to be the gander, Betsey," 
 said Mr. Nicklin, as he lit his pipe and began to 
 smoke with an air of supreme contentment. 
 
 This couple seemed to be engaged in a chronic 
 quarrel from year's end to year's end, and yet they 
 
 57 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 had never had a serious misunderstanding, and 
 were happy in each other's company. 
 
 "Well," said Mrs. Nicklin, trying hard to snap 
 thumb and finger, "I wouldn't give that for old 
 Martin Coy and all the lie-bills he could fetch in 
 again' me betwixt Christmas and Christmas; but 
 I'd give a purty to know how come Fountain 
 Flournoy to have sech a mortal weakness for a 
 Yankee, and a hotel waiter at that. That's what 
 pesters me." 
 
 To tell the truth, it pestered a good many people 
 in Middle Georgia when they heard of it ; but when 
 young Francis Flournoy, carrying out the duty laid 
 upon him by his father's will, had found Lawrence 
 McCarthy in Brooklyn, where he was living with 
 his daughter Nora in very modest circumstances, 
 and had installed this interesting family in their 
 new home, the public mind of the neighbourhood 
 was no longer pestered about it 
 
 The first to call was Judge Vardeman. 
 
 The Judge's driver said afterward that " Marse 
 Walton seed de yuther man walkin' 'bout un' de 
 trees an' he went whar he wuz, an' den he fotch a 
 yell, an' dey bofe grab one anudder 'roun' de neck, 
 an' dar dey had it. Right at fust I 'low'd dey wuz 
 fightin', an' I come mighty nigh hollerin' fer some- 
 body ter run an' part um; but I soon seed dey 
 was howdyin'. An' sech howdyin' ! Man> suh! 
 
 58 
 
IN THE ORDER OF PROVIDENCE 
 
 'twuz ez de meetin' er two sisters arter so long a 
 time." 
 
 And, in fact, the two men had been comrades 
 and messmates in the earliest campaigns in the 
 West. In following Forrest out of Fort Donelson 
 on the night of February 15, 1862, they became 
 separated, and never met again until Judge Varde- 
 man, moved more by curiosity than by neighbourly 
 feelings, called to pay his respects to the new 
 owner of the Pearson Place. 
 
 "Why, Larry !" he cried, still keeping his hand 
 on his old comrade's shoulder, "it's all over the 
 county that you're a hotel waiter, and I came over 
 to see how a waiter would look as a landed pro- 
 prietor. My dear friend, if you only knew how 
 glad I am to see you after all these years ! " 
 
 "There's no need to say it, Walton; I judge 
 your feelings by my own. For my part, I can 
 truly say that God is merciful as well as bountiful. 
 Yonder is Nora, my little girl ; she'll be glad to see 
 her father's old friend." 
 
 He called, and Nora came running ; and, whether 
 he was influenced by his surroundings or whether 
 his eyes told him the simple truth, Judge Varde- 
 man thought he never had seen as charming a girl 
 as Nora McCarthy. Her hair was glossy black, 
 ner eyes were sjrey or blue, as the light fell on 
 them, and the rose tints flowed faintly or radiantly 
 
 59 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 in response to her emotions. The play of her 
 features was wonderful to see, and each movement 
 of her body, every gesture of her white hands, 
 rhymed to the artless grace and innocence of 
 youth. In repose her countenance gave out those 
 inscrutable, indescribable suggestions of old songs 
 and old romances that are to be found in the ideal 
 portraits painted by the great masters. Having a 
 mind sensitive to impressions of this sort, the grave 
 Judge caught himself sighing even as he smiled. 
 He felt irresistibly drawn to this beautiful girl, 
 who, although she had reached the years of young 
 womanhood, was still a girl, in whom a dash of 
 waywardness seemed nothing more than sprightli- 
 ness. Happy are those whose light faults flutter 
 toward beauty and graciousness ! 
 
 Well, Captain Lawrence McCarthy being duly 
 installed in his possessions, it was not long before 
 all his neighbours had an inkling of his somewhat 
 romantic career, of the risks he had run, and the 
 devotion he had shown to the Confederate cause. 
 He thoroughly enjoyed his new life, and he began 
 at once to apply to the management of his planta- 
 tion the methodical skill and unerring judgment 
 which enabled him to manipulate men and create 
 opportunities as the manager of the secret service 
 of the Confederacy in New York. In short, he 
 was conspicuously successful as a farmer because 
 
 60 
 
IN THE ORDER OF PROVIDENCE 
 
 he knew how to manage men, because he had the 
 art of inspiring them with his own tireless energy. 
 
 As he was a man who loved company and knew 
 how to entertain his guests, his home soon became 
 a social centre. Whatever training as a hostess 
 his daughter Nora lacked was more than compen- 
 sated for by her sweetness and simplicity. She 
 knew how to be natural, and it is a great gift in 
 man or woman. She had a fine voice, and per- 
 formed on the harp. Hardly an evening passed 
 that Judge Vardeman was not to be found at the 
 Pearson Place, and his example was soon followed 
 by the choicer spirits of the village. 
 
 At least once, and sometimes twice, a week all 
 the men and women, as well as the boys and girls, 
 who were socially inclined, met at the Pearson 
 Place, and at such times the youngsters usually 
 had a frolic. So that it happened that in all that 
 region Captain McCarthy's house was the only one 
 in which old-fashioned hospitality was revived and 
 put to its finer uses. The young people had the 
 spacious parlour and the wide dining room in which 
 to dance and play the innocent games that lead to 
 love-making, while their elders had the library, or, 
 in fine weather, the wide veranda. For amuse- 
 ment there was whist or cribbage, but those who 
 once got a taste of Captain McCarthy's reminis- 
 cences, or heard one of Judge Vardeman's stories, 
 
 61 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 preferred to sit where these two were conversing, 
 or to linger within earshot. 
 
 On one occasion Nora touched young Flournoy's 
 coat sleeve, remarking, " Do you want to hear 
 something about your father ? " All the young 
 people followed the two, and listened to the story 
 that has already been told, the story of " Why 
 the Confederacy Failed." 
 
 " I still have the gold piece he sent me," said 
 Nora, proudly, shaking the bracelet under Flour- 
 noy's eyes. The young man thought that the arm 
 on which the bracelet glistened was the fairest and 
 most beautiful to be found in the world. 
 
 " I think you left out one of the portents," re- 
 marked Judge Vardeman. 
 
 " For instance ? " inquired the Captain. 
 
 " Fort Donelson," said the Judge. " We were 
 both there." 
 
 " Upon my word, you are correct, Walton. 
 Never before did an army, measurably victori- 
 ous, surrender so tamely. You remember the 
 rage of Forrest ? " 
 
 " I do," replied Judge Vardeman, laughing. "A 
 part of it fell on me. I had been his courier dur- 
 ing the day, and he came roaring to his headquar- 
 ters like a wounded lion. He cried out to those 
 who could hear him : ' Do you, and you, and you ' 
 calling their names ' go and wake up every 
 
 62 
 
IN THE ORDER OF PROVIDENCE 
 
 man in my command ! And you, too, sir,' he yelled 
 at me ; ' and if you ain't quick about it I'll break 
 me a hickory, and frail the life out of you ! ' But 
 there was no need to hurry. The enemy was 
 camping out of hearing, expecting to be attacked. 
 Forrest's whole command, and many others who 
 had no stomach for prison life, marched out of the 
 fort, and not a Federal was to be seen." 
 
 " I heard of the proposed surrender about day- 
 light," said Captain McCarthy, "and with half a 
 dozen others made my way out. I was not three- 
 quarters of a mile away when I heard Buckner's 
 bugler sounding a truce. Yes, my friend, you are 
 right. Fort Donelson belongs high up in the list 
 of portents. But for that surrender, Grant would 
 never have been heard of again. His enemies at 
 Washington were preparing to make the final move 
 that would have swept him into obscurity. But 
 when Providence arranges a programme, it is not 
 for mortals to disturb it." 
 
 " That is so true," remarked Judge Vardeman, 
 gravely, " that mere words fall short of describing 
 it." 
 
 "Yes," responded McCarthy. "It is true of 
 the most trivial events, but it is only when the 
 issues are large that we can put our fingers on the 
 connecting links in this vast chain." He paused 
 and looked forth across the fields of night in 
 
 63 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 which the stars were blooming, sighed, and con 
 tinued, 
 
 " I remember the occasion when but for a most 
 trifling accident we call such things accidents, 
 though we have no right to a life of inestimable 
 value to the whole country might have been 
 saved." 
 
 Captain McCarthy arose from his chair, walked 
 to the farther end of the veranda, and then came 
 slowly back, his head bent and his hands behind 
 him. He did not resume his seat, but moved 
 about in a small space in front of the older men 
 in the company, while the young people were 
 grouped in the door of the wide hallway, or sat 
 upon the low railing that ran around the veranda. 
 
 "You never met John Omahundro?" remarked 
 the Captain to Judge Vardeman. 
 
 "I never did, but I heard General Dabney 
 Maury giving Forrest an account of him. For- 
 rest's comment was that if he thought he could 
 get Omahundro, he'd take a week off and go after 
 him." 
 
 "Well, John Omahundro has gone on the stage 
 since the war, and now calls himself 'Texas 
 Jack,' " said Captain McCarthy, whereat there was 
 considerable excitement among the young folks, 
 for some of them had seen "Texas Jack" and 
 "Buffalo Bill" when they performed in their 
 
 64 
 
IN THE ORDER OF PROVIDENCE 
 
 lurid melodrama of the Wild West in Macon. 
 Some of the young ladies, especially, remembered 
 " Texas Jack " as perhaps the handsomest and 
 most dashing hero they had ever seen on the 
 stage. They remembered, too, that he had long 
 black hair that fell in curls about his shoulders, 
 and the loveliest mustache possible to man ; and 
 he was tall as tall as a grenadier. 
 
 Captain McCarthy listened to this enumeration 
 of Omahundro's attractions with a smile, and then 
 continued : 
 
 "Well, he was a very handsome lad when I 
 knew him. But his hair was too short to curl, 
 and he had no mustache. In fact, the first time 
 I saw him he was about as droll a specimen of 
 the country cracker as I ever laid eyes on. He 
 wore brogans of undressed leather, his copperas- 
 colored breeches were short enough to show his 
 woollen socks, and, as the day was warm, he carried 
 his jeans coat on his arm, which enabled all who 
 glanced at the droll figure to see that he had but 
 one suspender, and that made of twine. His wool 
 hat had seen service so long that it was as limber 
 as a dish-rag. He was driving a rugged-looking 
 mule to a small cart which contained fresh vege- 
 tables, a basket of eggs, and a few chickens. He 
 was chewing a straw, and his face wore a most 
 woebegone expression. He walked with a slight 
 
 65 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 limp, and this circumstance, simple as it was, pre- 
 served the figure from exaggeration. You knew 
 at once that here was a droll specimen of the poor 
 white common to all parts of our common country, 
 as familiar to Maryland, Virginia, and Pennsyl- 
 vania as it is to Georgia and Florida, or to Maine 
 or Vermont." 
 
 "You saw him, then," suggested Judge Varde- 
 man, "in his native surroundings before circum- 
 stances had combined to develop " 
 
 " No," replied Captain McCarthy ; " my first 
 glimpse of him was in Washington City, within 
 ten minutes' walk of the White House." 
 
 " Oh ! I remember the very day ! " cried Nora. 
 
 " When my duty carried me North on an errand 
 that I knew would detain me there for many 
 weary months, I carried my family with me, my 
 wife and daughter, and for the time being I 
 made my headquarters in Washington, renting a 
 very modest house there until such moment as 
 the plans of my superiors could be developed. 
 Well," the Captain went on, laughing, "they never 
 were developed, and I had to take matters into 
 my own hands and organise a sort of secret ser- 
 vice of my own, which I never could have done 
 but for Omahundro. 
 
 " He offered his wares before many doors, but 
 when he saw me he stopped his cart close to the 
 
 66 
 
IN THE ORDER OF PROVIDENCE 
 
 pavement, searched in it till he found three 
 chickens tied together by the feet. These he 
 brought to the door, remarking : ' I reckon you're 
 a new man in these parts. I've been tradin' an' 
 traffickin' 'roun' here fer some time, but I ain't 
 never saw/## before. What mought your name 
 be ?' He looked at me and grinned like an imbe- 
 cile. 
 
 " ' My name might be almost anything, but it 
 happens to be McCarthy,' I replied. 
 
 " ' You're right certain it ain't McKavitt, ner 
 McKinsie, ner no other kind of Mac ? ' he insisted ; 
 ' bekase I seen a lady down the road a piece, an' 
 she says, says she, " Jacky," say she, " ef you see 
 Cap'n Larry McCarthy, jest up an' leave three of 
 your best chickens at his door." ' As he said this 
 the cracker nudged me with his thumb, made a 
 queer noise with his mouth, and then fell into a fit 
 of laughter. 
 
 " ' What on earth do you mean ? ' I asked. 
 
 " ' Well, I don't mean no harm ; not a bit in the 
 world,' he replied. ' I says to the lady, says I, 
 " Is the Cap'n a married man ? " an' she says, " I 
 dunner whe'r he is or no, an' I don't keer; you 
 jest give 'im the chickens." She did that-a-way ! 
 She said them very words. I got a gal myself,' 
 he remarked by way of reassuring me, ' an' she's 
 a thumper.' He laughed in the silliest manner. 
 
 67 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 " Now I had, when first taking the cottage, left 
 my address ^at a country shanty some miles out of 
 the city, in accordance with instructions received 
 at Richmond; but the gift of the chickens con- 
 veyed no information to me ; it seemed more like 
 a trap laid for me. But the cracker left the fowls, 
 and as he went toward his wagon he paused long 
 enough to say : ' I want you to save the biggest 
 string, Cap. I'll come back arter it some day.' 
 
 " Now, this was a cue. The big string turned 
 out to be about a yard and a half of thrums, 
 small threads loosely twisted together, and in 
 this piece of thrums was wrapped a strip of tissue 
 paper containing a message from one of General 
 Stuart's couriers, an old friend of mine, saying 
 that no satisfactory instructions could be got from 
 Richmond, and advising me to act as I thought 
 best. The bearer of the despatch, the writer said, 
 was John Omahundro, the brightest, bravest, and 
 most trustworthy scout in the army. The state- 
 ment made me laugh. I no more believed that 
 the person who delivered me the message was 
 John Omahundro, of whom I had heard a great 
 deal, than I believed that I, myself, was Secretary 
 Stanton." 
 
 "I never have believed it," remarked Nora, 
 emphatically. 
 
 " I was nothing but a greenhorn in the business 
 61 
 
IN THE ORDER OF PROVIDENCE 
 
 then," the Captain continued, smiling at Nora, 
 who tossed her head in affected anger, "and I 
 thought that all such practices smelt of the cheap 
 novel and melodrama. I had not changed my 
 own name, and never did, and I thought at that 
 time that my contempt for all disguises and under- 
 hand methods would never permit me to employ 
 them; but when I had seen one or two young 
 fellows, gallant but foolhardy, snatched out of my 
 hands, as you may say, and sacrificed to Mr. Stan- 
 ton's implacable temper, I soon lost my contempt 
 for measures intended to insure my safety." 
 
 "That fellow Stanton was a grand rascal," re- 
 marked one of the Captain's audience. 
 
 " Oh, no ! no ! no ! " cried Captain McCarthy, 
 deprecatingly. " You never were more mistaken 
 in your life. I despised him heartily for many 
 a long day, but he was honest and true. He was 
 simply implacable ; he spent and was spent in per- 
 forming his duties; he was restless and violent, 
 riding over everything and everybody that stood 
 in his way. He knew neither friends nor foes 
 when it came to his duties, and in like circum- 
 stances he would have hanged or imprisoned his 
 dearest friend as promptly as he immured an 
 anonymous spy. 
 
 " Well, the day after I had received the message 
 from my friend in Virginia I became aware of the 
 
 69 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 fact that two men were following me. How long 
 they had been engaged in this business before I 
 discovered it it was impossible to say. At first 
 I simply suspected it, and then I made assurance 
 doubly sure by walking aimlessly about. But no 
 matter where I went I found them not far away. 
 They made no effort to intrude themselves upon 
 me; they were not obnoxious, as you may say. 
 They followed me at their ease and seemed to 
 be in high good humour. Sometimes they would 
 pause, as if trying to settle some disputed point, 
 or one would seem to tell a good story at which 
 both laughed heartily. Finally, having walked 
 around and about for an hour, I determined to 
 take a street car and go home. 
 
 "I had been walking in the direction of the 
 Capitol, but the car was moving in the direction 
 of the White House. The men who were follow- 
 ing me waited patiently for the car, and then, as 
 I expected they would, followed my example, and 
 seated themselves opposite me. One was a young 
 man of very frail appearance. His face was some- 
 what emaciated, and his eyes were sunken. His 
 hair was a dirty yellow. His companion presented 
 a striking contrast. His face was full and rosy, his 
 hair glossy black, and his eyes brilliant with health 
 and strength. He was six feet high, but seemed 
 to be shorter by reason of his perfect proportions. 
 
 70 
 
" I watched them narrowly, but they never once 
 looked directly at me. I was not angry, but I was 
 irritated. I knew my position, and it was by no 
 means pleasant to be followed about by strangers. 
 They soon began to converse, and I felt that every 
 word they said was directed at me. 
 
 " The yellow-haired man rolled his catlike eyes 
 as he talked, and sometimes held them closed for 
 a dozen seconds together, giving a terrible emphasis 
 to his words. 
 
 " ' You see, it's this way,' he said, speaking in a 
 guarded, confidential tone ; ' we know that a mes- 
 sage came from the Rebels yesterday. We caught 
 one of the messengers, but we didn't catch the 
 other; we know that it had to do with three 
 chickens ; and we know it was delivered ; but 
 how ? I wouldn't give a dime for the message 
 itself, but I'd give a thousand dollars to know who 
 brought it, and I'm going to find out.' 
 
 " ' I reckon we won't have much trouble about 
 that,' replied the other, lightly. 
 
 "They kept up this sort of conversation for 
 several minutes, and I assure you I was surprised 
 at my self-control. In fact, I had no need to 
 exercise any. I felt as placid and as compla- 
 cent as if I had been sitting at home listening to 
 Nora playing jigs and reels on the mouth harp. 
 I seemed to be taken completely out of myself. 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 You'll hardly believe it, but the situation seemed 
 to have a humorous aspect, and I laughed as I 
 left the car. 
 
 " I walked straight home, closed the door after 
 me, and called Nora. ' Nora, darling,' says I, 
 'two men will knock at the door presently. Show 
 them into the parlour, and ask them to have seats ; 
 then go into the kitchen and stay with mother. 
 Should you hear any unusual noise pay no atten- 
 tion to it.' I made haste to move every chair from 
 the parlour (we had few), leaving only a small sofa. 
 This I placed opposite the door. 
 
 "Well, sure enough, there soon came a knock 
 on the door. I went into my bedroom, secured 
 my navy revolvers, a very fine pair, by the way, 
 and as soon as Nora came back and described 
 the men I motioned for her to go to the kitchen." 
 
 "I sat in there," said Nora, laughing, "with my 
 fingers in my ears for fully half an hour." 
 
 "I knew," Captain McCarthy continued, "that 
 a desperate situation needed a desperate remedy, 
 so I walked to the parlour door, covered the two 
 men, and said : 
 
 " ' Gentlemen, your little game of sneak-and-tag 
 is played out. The first one that raises his hand 
 or moves from his position will be the first to die.' 
 
 "To my surprise, they displayed no alarm; 
 they showed no signs of apprehension. The 
 
 73 
 
 . 
 
IN THE ORDER OF PROVIDENCE 
 
 reason was, to make a long story short, that the 
 rosy youth was John Omahundro, while the other 
 was Frank Tidwell, the quaintest wag I ever 
 saw. 
 
 " You may be very sure I didn't take these gen- 
 tlemen at their word until Omahundro had re- 
 hearsed the scene with the chickens almost word 
 for word. This I had to depend on, for the rosy 
 youngster before me bore not the slightest resem- 
 blance to the cracker who brought me the chickens. 
 
 '"Why should you play a practical joke on 
 me ? ' I asked. 
 
 " ' Well,' replied Tidwell, ' you had to be broke 
 in, you know. I didn't know whether you was a 
 stump-sucker or a thoroughbred. We can't take 
 no chances here. If you'd a-flickered on that car 
 you'd never laid eyes on us any more.' Where- 
 upon, after searching himself, he produced an 
 order on a Halifax bank for five hundred dollars 
 in gold. This, as a guarantee of good faith, was 
 appreciated." 
 
 " You were talking a while ago of a trivial acci- 
 dent or incident that turned out to have important 
 relations to a larger event," suggested Judge Var- 
 deman, as the speaker paused. 
 
 " Yes, I was coming to that," responded Cap- 
 tain McCarthy ; " I am simply trying to recall the 
 impressions and details of a history-disturbing 
 
 73 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 event. However, these impressions are merely 
 personal. 
 
 " You have all heard of that unfortunate young 
 man, John Wilkes Booth. Well, wherever there 
 was a spark of sympathy for the South, there this 
 young man was to be found. Omahundro knew 
 him well, and it was natural that I should fall in 
 with him. He was a very attractive man in every 
 way. He had in him all the elements of genius, 
 but seemed powerless to focus them. 
 
 " To say that this young man was mad would be 
 to dispose of the problem he presents in a very un- 
 satisfactory way. He was as mad as Hamlet was ; 
 no more, no less. In all his views and beliefs, 
 in his designs and his hopes, he was as much a 
 creature of fiction as any you find in books. He 
 was so infected and unbalanced by his profession 
 he was an actor that the world seemed to him 
 to be a stage on which men and women were act- 
 ing, not living, their parts. There was nothing 
 real to him but that which is most unreal, the the- 
 atrical and the romantic. He had a great variety 
 of charming qualities, and his mind would have 
 been brilliant but for the characteristics which 
 warped it. 
 
 " I soon discovered that this younj man of un- 
 balanced judgment and unbridled tongue was a 
 person to be avoided by those who had work to do. 
 
 74 
 
IN THE ORDER OF PROVIDENCE 
 
 Omahundro had already made the same discovery 
 for himself, and he predicted that Booth would 
 commit some act that would drag the innocent to 
 death. For my part, I went at once to Canada, 
 then returned to New York, and had very few 
 opportunities after that of seeing this unfortunate 
 young man. 
 
 " But I was in Washington on the eleventh of 
 April, 1865, three days after the surrender of Lee, 
 and though I was in no enviable frame of mind, I 
 had the greatest confidence in the wisdom, justice, 
 and humanity of President Lincoln. I felt, as did 
 all who knew him, that he would do the right 
 thing, in the right way, at the right time. Oma- 
 hundro, I remember, had somewhat gloomier fore- 
 bodings. He had a real love for the President, 
 who knew the lad only as a country cracker, and 
 relished his drolleries, which, in the main, con- 
 sisted of narratives and anecdotes after Mr. Lin- 
 coln's own heart. In addition to these drolleries, 
 Omahundro had a pretty good head for politics, as 
 all our Southern young men have, and he thought 
 that Mr. Lincoln would be carried away by the rad- 
 ical wing of his party, which Stanton, assisted by 
 Morton and Stevens, had already nursed into life. 
 
 " Now I had some knowledge of men, and it 
 struck me that Mr. Lincoln's excessive patience 
 and forbearance were really the intrenchments 
 
 75 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 behind which his purposes lay. I thought, I say t 
 that while he seemed to be deferring to the judg- 
 ment of others, he was engaged all the time in 
 carrying out his own firm resolutions and unalter- 
 able plans as fast as events would justify them." 
 
 "That is the simple truth," exclaimed Judge 
 Vardeman. 
 
 " That is the way it struck me," Captain Mc- 
 Carthy went on, " and I really felt better after the 
 surrender than for some time previously. For one 
 thing, the suspense was ended ; the inevitable had 
 come to pass. Still, I was gloomy enough. 
 
 "Well, I had arrived in Washington on Tues- 
 day. The next Friday was Good Friday., As I 
 was coming from morning devotions I met Oma- 
 hundro, who had been waiting for me. He was 
 nervous and excited. 
 
 "Til tell you what,' he declared, drawing me 
 aside, 'we are going to have trouble, sure; that 
 fellow Booth is getting ready to do something 
 desperate. I tell you he's crazy. I've been talk- 
 ing to him, and he's wild on the subject of ridding 
 the country of tyrants and oppressors.' 
 
 " ' Pooh ! ' said I, ' such talk comes natural to him.' 
 
 "As it happened, we had not gone far before 
 we met the unfortunate young man. He paused 
 long enough to pass the time of day, and quite long 
 enough for me to see that he was labouring under 
 
 76 
 
IN THE ORDER OF PROVIDENCE 
 
 a great mental strain. His eyes shone with an 
 unnatural lustre, and his gestures were uncertain. 
 
 " ' I'll come to your room this afternoon, my 
 friend,' he said to Omahundro, 'and take a nap. 
 For the work that is before me I need the prepa- 
 ration of slumber. Aye,' he cried, with a wild 
 gesture, * and others will sleep ! Envy not their 
 dreams envy not their dreams, my friend ! ' 
 
 " ' I'll meet you there,' said Omahundro. 
 
 " Now, for three long years it had been my busi- 
 ness to foresee possible troubles and entanglements 
 and to provide against them, and so when I heard 
 this young man's remark and noted his excitement 
 I began to think of some possible difficulty into 
 which we might be dragged. Therefore I said to 
 Omahundro, 
 
 " ' Do you go to your room, lock the door, and 
 let it be understood that you'll not be back until 
 late to-night.' 
 
 "'Why, Cap, I want to collar that fellow and 
 keep him there till he gets over the tantrums. 
 It won't be hard to straighten him out. I believe 
 he's got the jimmies.' 
 
 "'Well,' I replied, 'you can only restrain him 
 for a few hours. His mania will renew itself, and 
 if he sleeps in your room this afternoon, you will 
 be identified with whatever he does, especially if 
 he commits some serious crime.' 
 
 77 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 " ' I reckon that's about so,' said Omahundro. 
 
 " Nevertheless, and in spite of all this," Captain 
 McCarthy continued, speaking gravely and with 
 emphasis, "John Omahundro did go back to his 
 room, and permitted this unfortunate young man 
 to sleep there that afternoon. When Booth was 
 sound asleep, Omahundro slipped out, locked the 
 door, and carried the key away with him. When 
 he returned he found that the young man had 
 escaped by the transom. 
 
 " In the course of a few hours we were over- 
 whelmed with the news of the President's assas- 
 sination. It was a terrible blow to the South, but 
 for some good purpose Providence permitted the 
 event to occur. Omahundro was deeply affected 
 by it He felt that if he had remained in the 
 room with the unfortunate young man, and had 
 restrained his movements until the next day, his 
 bloodthirstiness would have been dissipated. 
 
 " But in my opinion no earthly power could have 
 kept the assassin in that room. He would have 
 found some means of escape. The awful event, 
 provided for in the mysterious order of Providence, 
 would have come off on the moment." 
 
 Just then Joe-Bob Griffin drew his bow across 
 his fiddle in the dining room, and the young 
 people went flocking in, laughing and chattering 
 as young people will. 
 
 78 
 
THE TROUBLES OF MARTIN 
 COY 
 
THE TROUBLES OF MARTIN COY 
 
 WHEN Mrs. Nicklin, on the day of Colonel 
 Flournoy's funeral, was informed by her husband 
 that he had seen and spoken to Martin Coy, it is 
 no wonder that she was astonished. Nor is it any 
 wonder that she was ready to entertain and ex- 
 press a suspicion that the man was responsible 
 for the Colonel's taking-off. For Martin had 
 innocently and unintentionally made for himself 
 the most grewsome and mysterious reputation that 
 ever attached itself to the name and character of 
 any other human being in Middle Georgia. He 
 was a living ghost, and it was only necessary to 
 mention his name to send children to bed silent 
 and shivering, and to cause negroes to remain 
 indoors. The reason there was no Ku-Klux or- 
 ganization in that immediate region was because it 
 was only necessary for one white man to say to 
 another within hearing of a negro : " Have you 
 heard the news ? Martin Coy has sent word that 
 he'll walk about to-night." This was sufficient to 
 keep every negro at home on that particular night. 
 
 On one occasion, the evening before a state 
 election, the negroes gathered together in large 
 
 81 
 
numbers not far from town, ready to march in 
 early next morning and mass themselves at the 
 polls. A happy thought on the part of one of the 
 young politicians of the community caused this 
 plan to miscarry. He dressed himself up after the 
 style of the " Fantastics," as modern mummers 
 were called in the South just prior to the war, 
 donned a hideous mask and a wig and beard of 
 long white hair, and went to the camping place 
 of the negroes. " Who dat ? " cried one of their 
 pickets. " Martin Coy ! " replied the young man 
 in a terrible voice, striking a match as though he 
 would see who his challenger was. But the negro 
 gave him no such opportunity. Uttering one 
 shriek of terror, he turned and fled, pursued, as he 
 supposed, by Martin Coy. The shriek, coupled 
 with the name of Martin Coy, was sufficient to 
 stampede the colored citizens. The noise made by 
 their feet as they ran along the firm clay road 
 could be heard for some distance, and it sounded 
 like the wild rush of a drove of cattle. 
 
 In a word, Martin Coy was a ghost, alive and 
 palpable, and yet as mysterious and unreal as the 
 spooks that figure in fireside tales. No man in all 
 that section had been better known than Martin 
 Coy. For several years before the war he had 
 made himself obnoxious to some and popular with 
 others by running a distillery and keeping a " dog 
 
 82 
 
THE TROUBLES OF MARTIN COY 
 
 gery " just outside the corporate limits of the town. 
 This still and doggery soon became eyesores to the 
 good citizens of the community. They attracted 
 all the reckless and irresponsible characters in the 
 county. Young men with no fondness for drink 
 went there for the sake of the gayety of the 
 crowd, and were soon drawn into the whirlpool 
 of intemperance. On Saturday nights especially 
 the orgies that took place at Coy's stillhouse were 
 something to be remembered by those who lived 
 within earshot. 
 
 Various efforts were made to remove this blot 
 upon the social order, but Martin Coy had taken 
 sound advice so far as the legality of his business 
 was concerned. Moreover, the attacks made on 
 him in the courts aroused the real obstinacy of his 
 nature, and when the citizens clubbed together 
 and raised enough money to buy out a dozen such 
 distilleries, he laughed at their offer. They 
 had attacked him in the first place ; and when they 
 went at him with fair words, they found him with 
 his bristles up, as the saying is. 
 
 Now, in Georgia, since the days of George 
 Whitefield's campaign against Satan, one of the 
 specialties of the population is the ease and cer- 
 tainty with which it turns out revivalist preachers, 
 one for each generation of sinners. Uncle Jimmy 
 Dannielly, one of the most celebrated, flourished 
 83 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 in the thirties, and Uncle Johnny Knight in the 
 fifties. They were rough and uncouth in their 
 ways, it may be, but they were men of genius, 
 gifted with a power to stir the hearts of their 
 fellows. Many strange stories are told of the 
 results of their appeals to the consciences of their 
 hearers. Camp-meeting, when a series of services 
 was held in midsummer in the deep bosom of the 
 green wood, was the special harvest-time of these 
 revivalists. They preached day and night, and 
 some very astonishing scenes occurred as the 
 result of their ministrations. 
 
 Martin Coy never attended a camp-meeting, nor 
 any other religious service, but it was while one of 
 these meetings was in progress not far away that 
 the good citizens of the community concluded to 
 make him the object of special attention on the 
 part of the preachers. Some of the young men 
 got wind of the plan, and made haste to inform 
 Martin that a vigorous attempt would be made to 
 convert him. 
 
 "Well," said Martin, "I reckon I need some- 
 thing of that kind as bad as the next one. But 
 they'll not pester me." 
 
 But on Saturday night, while the young men 
 who favoured Martin Coy with their presence and 
 their patronage were in the midst of one of their 
 revels, two or three revivalists, accompanied by a 
 
 84 
 
THE TROUBLES OF MARTIN COY 
 
 dozen or more of the most substantial citizens of 
 the community, suddenly made their appearance. 
 The young men had prepared for a great time. 
 They had secured the services of Fiddling Bill, a 
 one-legged negro, whose lack of limb and knack 
 as a shoemaker had secured him many privileges, 
 and had made all arrangements for what is called 
 a "stag-dance." But Fiddling Bill, perceiving 
 this grave and threatening accession to the crowd, 
 slipped his fiddle into its bag and was slipping 
 away. A word from Uncle Johnny Knight de- 
 tained him. 
 
 " Don't go, William," said the great revivalist, 
 his face beaming with smiles. " The fiddle is a 
 vile thing when its strings are tuned to sin; but 
 can't you tune it to play a hymn, William ? " 
 
 The young men slipped away one by one, but 
 Fiddling Bill remained, and so did Martin Coy, 
 who was running a doubling of low wines. " If 
 you git dry," he remarked to his new guests, 
 "you'll find a jug by the water bucket there." 
 With that he went on attending to his business, 
 chunking up the fire, and testing the strength of 
 the run which was slowly dribbling through the 
 coils of the copper pipe into a cask, or half barrel. 
 
 "We have come, Martin," said Rev. John 
 Knight, "to have a little friendly talk with you 
 about your soul." 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 "All right, neighbours and friends," responded 
 Martin Coy, cheerfully, " fire away." 
 
 " But first we'll have prayer," said the preacher ; 
 and they all knelt except Martin Coy. The fact 
 that made Uncle Johnny Knight's prayers more 
 impressive than those of any other person was 
 their conversational tone. He addressed his 
 Maker as if the Great Infinite were standing 
 before him. 
 
 " We know, Lord, that our poor friend, Martin 
 Coy, has a good heart and a clear understanding. 
 If we know that, Heavenly Father, how much 
 better do You know it ! Oh, touch that heart, and 
 make that understanding clearer, and lift our poor 
 friend out of the depths of his misery. He doesn't 
 know, Lord, how deep his misery is, but show it 
 to him ; make him feel it ; brand the knowledge 
 of it on his dead conscience, and bring that con- 
 science to life, all quivering with the despair that 
 leads to repentance." 
 
 The prayer was long and earnest, and grew 
 more vivid toward the close ; but it seemed to 
 have no sort of effect on Martin Coy. Then a 
 hymn was sung. Acting on orders, Fiddling Bill, 
 after one or two trials, picked up the tune and 
 carried it along very sweetly, the tones of the 
 violin striking through the male voices with singu- 
 lar effectiveness. 
 
 86 
 
THE TROUBLES OF MARTIN COY 
 
 " Purty good, Bill," remarked Martin Coy, with 
 a grunt of satisfaction ; " I'll give you a big drink 
 for that when the company goes." 
 
 " Thanky, marster," said Fiddling Bill, enthusi- 
 astically. 
 
 The upshot of it was that the efforts of the 
 revivalists appeared to have no appreciable effect 
 on Martin Coy, until at last one of them it may 
 have been Rev. Caleb Key who, when all other 
 tactics failed, had a way of seizing sinners by 
 the scruff of the neck, metaphorically speaking, 
 and shaking them over the bottomless pit, raised 
 his hand and said solemnly : 
 
 " Martin Coy, in the presence of your God and 
 these consecrated brethren, I denounce you for 
 sowing the seeds of crime and sin in this commu- 
 nity. Your wicked heart is harder than flint, but 
 it will be broken. The day will come t be it soon or 
 late, when you will hide from the light of the sun; 
 when you will slink about in the darkness ; when 
 you will be a dead man though yet alive ! Mark 
 my word, Martin Coy ! the God of the widow and 
 orphan will take vengeance on you ! " 
 
 These words may not seem very impressive in 
 print, but charged with the emphasis of a sonorous 
 and living voice, and rising and falling with the 
 inflections of an earnestness as strong as passion 
 itself, they proved more effective than all the 
 
 87 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 prayers and preaching. As soon as the words 
 were uttered, Martin Coy turned around and faced 
 the revivalists, but they were already retiring. He 
 advanced a pace or two and raised his hand as 
 though he would attract their attention, but their 
 backs were turned and they were swallowed by 
 the darkness. 
 
 Then Martin Coy turned and looked at Fiddling 
 Bill. "They give out some rough texts," he re- 
 marked. 
 
 "Dey sho does," said Fiddling Bill, who was 
 staring at Martin Coy with wide-open eyes. " A 
 little mo' an' de preacher would 'a' cussed you 
 out." 
 
 " I wish he had 'a' done it on his own hook," 
 suggested Martin Coy with a sigh. "Then I 
 could 'a' grabbed him and give him a frailin' that 
 would 'a' lasted him till the next time he pestered 
 me." 
 
 " Would you 'a' done it, Marse Coy ? " asked 
 Fiddling Bill. 
 
 " As certain as gun's iron," replied Martin 
 Coy. 
 
 " Well, suh ! " commented the negro. After 
 that there was silence for some time. The negro, 
 narrowly watching Martin Coy, saw that he was 
 in a soberer mood than usual : not that he was 
 ever drunk. It was his boast, indeed, that, though 
 
 88 
 
THE TROUBLES OF MARTIN COY 
 
 he had made thousands of gallons of spirits, and 
 had tasted nearly every gallon of it, not a drop 
 had ever gone down his goozle. After a while 
 Fiddling Bill ventured to make another remark. 
 
 " De man sho' was a rank talker." 
 
 To this Martin Coy made no reply ; whereupon, 
 after waiting a reasonable time, Fiddling Bill made 
 as if to tune his violin, he had lowered the pitch 
 to suit the solemnity of the hymn tune, but 
 Martin shook his head. 
 
 " No more tunes to-night, Bill. We've had 
 enough music to last us over Sunday. There's 
 a jug there with a tin cup tied to the handle. 
 Take a dram if you want one." 
 
 Fiddling Bill looked at Martin Coy and then at 
 the jug, and then for a wonder he shook his head. 
 
 " No, suh ; I speck I done had 'nuff. Dat ar 
 man put a bad tas'e in my mouf." He lingered a 
 little while, looked anxiously at the jug more than 
 once, and then bade Martin Coy good night. 
 
 The white man leaned back in his split-bottom 
 chair and smoked his pipe, listening intently to 
 the thump, thump, thump of the wooden leg as the 
 negro went along the path. When the sound 
 died away, he turned to the boiler of the still and 
 remarked, 
 
 "Well, well, well! when a nigger fiddler says 'no' 
 to a dram, it's about time for the stars to fall ag'in.' 
 
 89 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 In Martin Coy's opinion, another fall of stars, 
 such as he witnessed when a lad of seven, would 
 be the prelude to the final judgment and day of 
 doom. 
 
 Now it need hardly be said that Martin Coy did 
 not go out of the distilling business. He kept it 
 up not only because he was a most obstinate and 
 self-willed individual, but because he had no other 
 business to fall back on. He kept it up until the 
 beginning of the war, and succeeded, meantime, 
 in buying a farm close to town, and half a dozen 
 negroes to work it. But when the war began it 
 opened up a new line of business for young and 
 old unprofitable as the event proved, but beyond 
 all question new. Along with many others, 
 Martin Coy was drawn into it. 
 
 He joined the company organized in the little 
 town, the company with which Colonel Flournoy 
 went to the front, and engaged in the arduous 
 work of perfecting himself in the drill tactics and 
 various manoeuvres which are so imposing to 
 average spectators, but which are never really 
 employed when war actually opens its mouth and 
 begins to drink the blood and crunch the bones of 
 its victims. 
 
 It was while Martin Coy was engaged in these 
 duties that he received a long and an affectionate 
 letter from his brother Harvey Coy, who, follow- 
 
 90 
 
THE TROUBLES OF MARTIN COY 
 
 ing his wife's relatives, had emigrated to Missouri. 
 In this letter Harvey Coy begged his brother not 
 to enlist in any effort to destroy the Union. He 
 owned slaves himself, he said, and his wife's 
 family was made up of slave-owners, and he 
 declared that he had good reason for saying that 
 Mr. Lincoln had no intention of disturbing slavery. 
 Moreover, Harvey said that the Southern leaders 
 knew this as well as he did ; nay, better, if such a 
 thing could be, and they were simply trying, not 
 to preserve slavery, but to destroy the Union. As 
 for himself, he proposed to join the defenders of the 
 Government, and he advised his brother to sell out 
 in Georgia, bring his wife to Missouri, and either 
 remain neutral or take sides for the Union. 
 
 Martin Coy read his brother's letter over very 
 carefully, and then made his wife read it aloud. 
 
 " Well, and what do you think of that, Molly ? " 
 he inquired. 
 
 " Why, I think the brazen fool is tryin' to insult 
 us," she exclaimed. " I allers did hate him," she 
 added. " He was as poor as you before he mar- 
 ried Carry Diggers. And after that he used to 
 talk about ' my niggers ' and ' my property.' I 
 declare if he hadn't 'a' been your only brother, I 
 believe I'd 'a' spit in his face. I felt like it over 
 and often. And now he wants us to go up there 
 and be Yankees along wi' him ! If you ever meet 
 
 91 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 him in the war, I hope you'll make it convenient 
 to put a hole plumb through him." 
 
 Martin Coy winced at this. " I hope not," he 
 protested. " I don't think any more of Harvey's 
 wife than you do ; but a woman's a woman the 
 world over ; and you can't blame a man for what 
 a woman does. The capers of Harvey's wife 
 didn't prejidice me ag'in Harvey; but when he 
 comes a-preachin' this doctrine, me and him can't 
 gee bosses." 
 
 With that Martin Coy tore his brother's letter 
 into little bits of pieces and set them adrift on the 
 wind with an exclamation of bitter disgust. 
 
 Time, which carries all human efforts forward 
 to their culmination, carried Martin Coy to the 
 front, and, in the beginning, Providence placed 
 him in West Virginia. The brigade to which his 
 company was attached was stationed at Laurel 
 Hill, and a more desolate place, especially during 
 the winter season, could hardly be found. The 
 snow or the sleet fell for weeks at a time, and even 
 when the sun shone it simply illuminated and 
 brought into stronger relief the vast and desert 
 loneliness that fell impartially on valley and on 
 mountain. 
 
 Martin Coy said long afterward that a million 
 men gathered in that region wouldn't have lifted 
 the " lonesomeness " of the place. " It was so 
 
 92 
 
THE TROUBLES OF MARTIN COY 
 
 lonesome," he declared, "that men choppin' wood 
 a quarter of a mile away made you feel like you 
 was in t'other world." And when he was asked 
 which of the other worlds he meant, his reply 
 was, "Any one would 'a' suited me for a 
 change." 
 
 But the truth is, Martin Coy looked back on the 
 Laurel Hill experience through a long vista of 
 trouble and keen anguish that coloured and warped 
 his vision. 
 
 In the spring of '61, a brigade or two of Feder- 
 als heard of the occupation of Laurel Hill by the 
 Confederates and, being on their way southward, 
 concluded to pay the lonely place a visit. They 
 carried out this intention early one morning, and 
 their visit was so unexpected that they were right 
 in the camp before most of the Confederates knew 
 there was a blue coat within twenty-five miles of 
 the place. It was a surprise, and, according tc 
 all recognized rules of warfare, should have been 
 a very disastrous one ; but American troops have 
 a way of getting over their astonishment, as was 
 abundantly demonstrated on both sides during the 
 war. The Confederates rallied behind the cabins 
 they had built, rallied by twos and tens, and then 
 by companies, and they soon succeeded in giving 
 the enemy a warm good morning. 
 
 But the position was untenable so the officers 
 93 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 decided and the Confederates retreated. This 
 retreat, orderly enough in the beginning, soon 
 developed into a movement in which every man 
 was for himself. The troops were not demoral- 
 ised, for there was no pursuit, but they began to 
 straggle. If the history of that retreat has ever 
 been written, the account has never fallen under 
 the eyes of the present writer ; but the stories told 
 by survivors all agree that it was the most horri- 
 fying experience they were called on to endure 
 throughout the war ; and some of them, be it 
 remembered, lay for months in prison, while 
 others suffered from terrible wounds. 
 
 The demoralisation that occurred was probably 
 the best thing that could have happened, for if 
 any considerable body of the retreating troops had 
 remained together, starvation would have been the 
 result. But they scattered about in small com- 
 panies and squads as they went tramping through 
 this vast wilderness. No doubt a great deal of 
 that country has been opened up by this time, but 
 in 1 86 1 there were miles and miles of forest that 
 had never been explored by white men. The 
 statement may seem hard to believe, because at 
 rare intervals along the eastern fringes of this 
 wilderness rude huts had been built. But a veri- 
 table jungle of interminable width, which stretches 
 for hundreds of miles along the tops and sides of 
 
 94 
 
THE TROUBLES OF MARTIN COY 
 
 a range of mountains, offers no Inducement to 
 exploration on the part of those who have even a 
 vague idea of its extent 
 
 It was June when the retreat began. In Georgia 
 the blackberries and other wild fruit are ripe at 
 that season. In that vast and mountainous wilder- 
 ness the trees and shrubs, with the exception of 
 the laurel, were just beginning to throw out leaves, 
 and the pale green of the new foliage was but the 
 sickening sign of barrenness to the lost Confed- 
 erates. Some of the unfortunates were never 
 heard of again ; but the squad with which Martin 
 Coy found himself managed to preserve life by 
 feeding on roots and barks, especially the inner 
 bark of the red elm and sassafras. On several 
 occasions they managed to shoot high-flying crows; 
 and once they killed a wild pig, and had a most 
 joyous feast. 
 
 Finally, after roaming about for many dreary 
 days, Martin Coy and his companions came to a 
 stream of running water, the first they had seen. 
 By following this they not only returned to big 
 hominy and fried chicken, which are the equiva- 
 lents of civilisation in that region, but fell plump 
 upon an adventure which brought Martin Coy face 
 to face with an event that changed his whole life, 
 and made existence dark for him in a very real 
 sense for many a long day. 
 
 95 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 The stream which they had been following 
 through a narrow and somewhat tortuous gorge 
 suddenly leaped off a precipice so high that some 
 of the water was shattered into a mist which arose 
 from the pool below as vaporous as though it 
 had emanated from a steaming caldron. There 
 was nothing for the weary and famishing Confed- 
 erates to do but to retrace their steps a little 
 distance and climb from the gorge the best they 
 could. It was not an easy matter for men so torn 
 by hunger and so burdened with fatigue ; but led 
 by Martin Coy, whose dogged energy had been 
 the means of keeping up the spirits of his compan- 
 ions, they crawled out and proceeded in a direction 
 parallel with the stream. They had not gone far 
 before they found themselves gazing upon a scene 
 which, after their terrible experience, seemed a 
 foretaste and first glimpse of Paradise. It was as 
 if the vast wilderness had rolled away behind them, 
 or as if a black veil had been lifted. 
 
 In the valley below them a farm lay nestling in 
 the sunshine. A small flock of sheep browsed 
 busily in a field near the barn, and a number of 
 cattle stood contentedly chewing their cuds. Fowls 
 were running about, a small dog barked inter- 
 mittently, and blue smoke curled from the chimney 
 of the dwelling. The Confederates gazed on this 
 scene of beauty in joyous silence until one of them, 
 
 96 
 
THE TROUBLES OF MARTIN COV 
 
 a man from Putnam County, Georgia, true to his 
 raising and his first principles, exclaimed, 
 
 " Boys, I smell hog meat a-fryin' ! " 
 
 "No," said Martin Coy, after sniffing the air; 
 " it's chicken a-fryin'." 
 
 "Then to-day's Sunday," was Putnam's com- 
 ment. 
 
 Whereupon Martin Coy drew from his pocket a 
 dirty envelope, counted the marks upon it, and 
 after a brief calculation asserted that the day was 
 Sunday. He had kept tale of the number of times 
 he had wound his watch, so that every mark stood 
 for twenty-four hours. 
 
 The farmhouse seemed to be close at hand : one 
 of the party said it looked like a man might back 
 up the hill a piece, get a good running start, and 
 jump right spang into the garden. Nevertheless, 
 they had to walk nearly a mile and a half before 
 the house was reached, and when they arrived 
 there they marched right into the arms of a squad 
 of Federal troopers. They had been warned of the 
 troopers by a man who appeared to be one of the 
 hands, who was hitching a small mule to a wagon ; 
 but as you may toll a pig into a butcher's shop 
 with one ear of corn, so, on the same principle, 
 these famished and weary Confederates determined 
 to risk everything in order to satisfy their hunger. 
 If there had been a man among them of the 
 97 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 dash and energy of Forrest, they could easily have 
 captured the Federals, for there was a momentary 
 stampede among the latter, who were lounging 
 about without their arms, when they saw this grim 
 and determined-looking little band filing into the 
 yard ; but the Confederates were clean f orespent. 
 In spite of the warning cry of " Halt ! " they came 
 shuffling toward the house, some of them stagger- 
 ing by reason of the reaction that had set in. The 
 officer in charge of the Federals took in the situa- 
 tion at a glance, and so did the motherly-looking 
 housewife, and it was not long before they were 
 seated around a bowl of steaming chicken-broth, 
 in which wheaten dumplings had been stewed. 
 Simple as this was, it was more than a feast ; and 
 it restored hope and energy, and gave them 
 strength and courage. The truth is, while they 
 had been weak from hunger, their chief trouble 
 had come from the fact that they were lost in a 
 wilderness that seemed endless. The interminable 
 jungle had racked their nerves and sapped their 
 vitality far more completely than hunger and fa- 
 tigue; and when they were once free from that 
 incubus and had satisfied their hunger, they found 
 themselves in pretty good condition. 
 
 Now, Martin Coy's terrible experience in this 
 mountain jungle was made more terrible still by 
 reason of his keen and vivid remembrance of the 
 
 98 
 
THE TROUBLES OF MARTIN COY 
 
 awful prophecy of the revivalist who, with other 
 preachers, had visited his stillhouse. From the 
 moment that he realized the plight of himself and 
 his companions the words came back to him with 
 piercing power : " The day will come, be it soon or 
 late, when you will hide from the light of the sun ; 
 when you will slink about in the darkness ; when 
 you will be a dead man though yet alive." 
 
 They came back to him and stayed with him ; 
 he mumbled them over to himself by day, and 
 they became living things in his dreams and flitted 
 to and fro in his slumbers by night. And now 
 when he came to realise that he was a prisoner, 
 and that in all probability he would be immured 
 for months, even years, the words of the preacher 
 gathered fresh force. 
 
 Owing to the physical condition of the Confed- 
 erates, which, as has been hinted, was not nearly 
 so bad as it seemed to be, their captors deter- 
 mined to remain at the farmhouse over night. 
 The prisoners were placed in the loft of the barn, 
 which was half filled with hay, and here they 
 found no difficulty in addressing themselves to 
 slumber. Some time during the night, or it may 
 have been toward morning, Martin Coy felt him- 
 self roughly shaken. He would have started up 
 with an exclamation, but a hand over his mouth 
 pressed him back with a force that was irresist 
 
 99 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 ible, and an angry whisper sounded close to his 
 ear: 
 
 " Don't speak, but listen ! You're all a pack of 
 cowardly whelps, or the Yanks would be where 
 you are. Do you hear me ? " The hand was still 
 over Martin Coy's mouth, and he could only nod 
 an affirmative. " None of you is worth the powder 
 and lead it'd take to blow your heads off, but I'm 
 going to give you a chance to show what's in you 
 to-morrow morning. Are you listening ? " Again 
 Martin Coy nodded. " Well, when you get about 
 five miles on the way you'll see a man, a mule, and 
 a wagon in the road. The mule will be unhitched. 
 When your crowd comes along she'll back right 
 into it and begin to kick do you hear ? Pass the 
 word to your men, and tell them to keep their 
 eyes open, and when the mule cuts her caper let 
 each man grab a Yank and take his gun away 
 from him. You are six to eight, and the mule will 
 take care of the two extra men. Is it a go ? " 
 
 Martin Coy nodded emphatically. " It'd better 
 be a go," said the whisper. " The man that flunks 
 will never see daylight any more. What is your 
 name ? " 
 
 The hand was cautiously raised, and back came 
 the answer, "Martin Coy." "Well," said the 
 other, " don't be coy in the morning. When you 
 hear your name called out, grab the gun of the 
 
 100 
 
THE TROUBLES OF MARtlN COY 
 
 man next to you and kill him, and tell your men 
 to do the same. Good night." 
 
 Martin Coy felt the straw move once, as if some 
 one was turning over to find a more comfortable 
 position. After that there was silence, except for 
 the squeak of a mouse, or the fluttering scamper 
 of a rat along the rafters. He was awake at dawn. 
 He heard some one quarrelling with a mule in the 
 same tone and language he would use with a 
 person. "It's a mighty good thing I come out 
 here when I did ; if I'd 'a' waited till sun-up, you'd 
 'a' chawed up the whole inside of the barn. You 
 wait till I git you whar nobody can't see us ; I'll 
 cut me a stick, an* I'll pay you for the old an' the 
 new." 
 
 Thus said the man to the mule. When Martin 
 Coy looked about him he saw no one but his com- 
 panions in misery ; and when he would have told 
 these of the information he had received, the first 
 one he spoke to remarked sulkily, "Why, you 
 told us that last night; you'll keep on blabbin' 
 about it until everybody in the neighbourhood 
 knows it." 
 
 Blabbing! Whatever faults and weaknesses 
 Martin Coy had, blabbing was not among them. 
 The charge stung him so that he withdrew into 
 his shell, and had nothing more to say to his com' 
 panions on any subject whatever. 
 
 101 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 The six Confederates, accompanied by their 
 eight captors, were on the road early. The Fed- 
 erals seemed to know the ground, and were in 
 no hurry. Their main force was not so very far 
 away, as the Confederates learned afterward. Mar 
 tin Coy was at the head of the little squad of 
 prisoners, and he not only marched close to the 
 Federal guard on his right, but kept a sharp look- 
 out for the man, the wagon, and the mule. 
 
 When they had travelled about four or five miles 
 they came suddenly upon the man, the wagon, and 
 the mule. The mule was unhitched, a part of the 
 harness hanging loose, as though it had been torn 
 off, and the wagon was half-slued across the road. 
 The arrangement seemed to be an ideal one, but 
 Martin Coy's heart sank when he saw a mounted 
 Federal officer talking to the man. How many 
 more were there in the neighbourhood ? 
 
 Martin Coy never lifted his eyes to the face of 
 the mounted officer. He only noted in a general 
 way that the man was large and fine-looking. He 
 watched the man and the mule, and drew closer 
 to the guard on his right. Would the scheme 
 work? He would soon know. They were not 
 ten yards from the wagon. The man was say- 
 ing : 
 
 "Why, she's the plagueon'dest creetur in the 
 known world. Whoa ! didn't I tell you to whoa ? '' 
 
 1 02 
 
THE TROUBLES OF MARTIN COY 
 
 he cried. The mule had flung herself around with 
 incredible swiftness and was now letting fly both 
 heels at the officer's horse, which, backing into the 
 ravine, suddenly slipped and fell. The prisoners 
 were only a few steps from the wagon. "Oh, 
 what are you up to ? Why don't you whoa before 
 I borry a gun an' kill you ? " The mule, backing 
 and kicking, dragged the man after her (to all 
 appearances) around the end of the wagon. " If 
 Martin Coy was here, he'd fix you! " yelled the man. 
 
 The prisoners accepted this as a signal, and 
 each grabbed the gun of the Federal nearest to 
 him. It was over in a moment, or would have 
 been over had not the mounted officer, whose 
 horse had recovered his footing, come spurring 
 toward the mele'e, pistol in hand. " Stand up 
 there, men ! Who called for Martin " 
 
 The sentence was never completed. Martin Coy 
 had levelled his gun and fired as the officer spoke. 
 The Federal swayed and would have fallen from 
 his horse, but one of the men caught him, and 
 eased him to the ground. " Martin ! " he feebly 
 cried, then groaned and seemed to be quite dead. 
 
 The groan had an echo, for Martin Coy, coming 
 forward, found that he had shot his brother. 
 
 " It's a judgment ! " he exclaimed hoarsely. " A 
 judgment ! Now I'm done ! You-all can take me 
 where you please." 
 
 103 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 "Well, I reckon not not much!" said the 
 man who had been manipulating the mule. " War's 
 war, and when family connections git on both 
 sides of the fence where shootin's gwine on, some- 
 body's bound to git hurt." With that he detailed 
 two of the Federals to look after the body of the 
 officer. One of them mounted the horse and rode 
 off to the Federal camp, the other remained by 
 the roadside. 
 
 The countryman, who was no other than John 
 Omahundro, on his way to Richmond, left his 
 wagon where it was, and turned the mule loose, 
 giving her a friendly slap as he did so. She went 
 cantering back to the farmhouse in double-quick 
 time. 
 
 " Now you Yanks, jest make your minds easy. 
 You've swapped places with these chaps here. 
 Form in line there ; single file. Right about face, 
 and forward march, with a hep hep hep ! 
 Keep step there, Coy. Don't tangle up my 
 army." 
 
 On the side of the hill, as they retraced their 
 steps, a footpath was visible. It was narrow, but 
 well marked. Into this Omahundro filed the men, 
 and they were soon on their way south. 
 
 Martin Coy seemed to be a changed man ; he 
 would obey orders, but he would not answer when 
 spoken to. The only words he uttered were mum- 
 
 104 
 
THE TROUBLES OF MARTIN COY 
 
 bled to himself, and his companions never knev 
 whether he was praying or cursing. As a matter 
 of fact, he was simply repeating the prophecy of 
 the revivalist : " The day will come, be it soon or late, 
 when you will hide from the light of the sun ; 
 when you will slink about in the darkness ; when 
 you will be a dead man though yet alive" 
 
 Instinctively the men knew that Martin Coy 
 was in great mental trouble. Omahundro was 
 especially full of sympathy. When they reached 
 Richmond, by a word he secured a furlough for 
 Martin Coy and saw that he was provided with 
 the papers necessary for his transportation and 
 with a sufficient supply of money. 
 
 Just when Martin Coy reached home no one 
 knew except his wife and himself. He kept to 
 himself as rigidly as a monk who dwells alone in a 
 cell. He felt that he was under an awful judgment 
 from Heaven, and his penance, self-inflicted, was 
 that he never allowed the sun to shine on him, or 
 permitted his eyes to rest on the light it gives 
 forth. It was literally as the preacher said it 
 would be : he hid from the light of the sun, and 
 when he went forth at all, he slunk about under 
 cover of the darkness. So far as the world was 
 concerned, it was the same as if he had been dead 
 and buried. 
 
 He was so earnest in his beliefs and purposes 
 105 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 that he convinced his wife of the spiritual utility 
 of his asceticism ; and she, being a woman of con- 
 siderable energy, and possessing a good head for 
 business, took charge of his affairs, and proceeded 
 to manage them with a success that attracted 
 wide attention. 
 
 To quote Mrs. Nicklin, " Old Moll Coy is tryin' 
 for to be a man ; she's act'ally and candidly begun to 
 sprout a beard." A remark which drew from Mr. 
 Nicklin the response that, " A 'oman as smart as 
 any man, and a plegged sight smarter'n most on 
 'em, is got a good right for to have a beard." 
 
 Martin Coy was at home for nearly four years 
 before anybody knew it except his wife. He occu- 
 pied a room in the second story of his house, and 
 the windows to this room were not only closely 
 shuttered on the outside, but heavily hung with 
 curtains on the inside. He limited himself to one 
 meal of cold victuals, and took that at night by the 
 light of a tallow candle. Sometimes he read the 
 Bible, but more often he paced back and forth 
 as far as the narrow limits of his room would 
 allow. But after the first fever of his repentance 
 (if it can be called that) passed away, he ventured 
 to walk about at hours when he judged that the 
 rest of the community were sound asleep. 
 
 When the surviving members of his company 
 returned home in 1865, people wondered that Mrs 
 
 1 06 
 
THE TROUBLES OF MARTIN COY 
 
 Coy made no inquiries after her husband, who had 
 failed to return with the others. Then rumours 
 of various kinds flew about. Some said that he, 
 with a number of others, perished in the retreat 
 from Laurel Hill, others that he died in a North- 
 ern prison, and there was one persistent story that 
 he had deserted from the Confederate Army and 
 joined his brother on the Federal side. Now, in 
 his walks at night, he had been seen and recognised 
 by various negroes. This, however, was no evi- 
 dence to them that Martin Coy was alive. Quite 
 the contrary. It was an evidence that he was 
 dead. Fiddling Bill, who had known him well 
 and liked him, saw him one night and spoke to 
 him. Receiving no response, he spoke again in a 
 louder tone; whereupon Martin Coy turned slowly 
 around, looked at the negro hard, and groaned. 
 
 This was sufficient for Fiddling Bill, who had 
 serious doubts even before he ventured to speak. 
 The negro turned and went back the way he had 
 come as fast as his heavy wooden leg would per- 
 mit him. He was going at such a rate that when 
 he came to a plank sidewalk the thump of the leg 
 could be heard blocks away; and at one point, 
 where the iron-shod foot of the wooden leg was 
 forced between two planks and held there as in a 
 vice, Fiddling Bill gave one despairing wrench and 
 tore up a whole section of the walk. 
 
 107 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 The negro's testimony and the evidence of the 
 wrecked walk were sufficient to convince all the 
 negroes, and not a few whites, that the ghost of 
 Martin Coy walked abroad and refused to be laid. 
 The reason was plain. He had died in strange 
 parts, and had been buried in strange soil, and his 
 perturbed spirit would never be satisfied until his 
 bones were brought back home. This was mani- 
 fest on the face of it, since he had been seen most 
 frequently near the village burying-ground. 
 
 Of course the more sensible people of the com- 
 munity never bothered their heads with these 
 stories, but they flew about all the same, and so 
 much life and substance has a myth of this sort 
 that it persists to this day, and " Coy's Ghost " is 
 still supposed by the superstitious to be walking in 
 that region, flitting about, as it were, from neigh- 
 bourhood to neighbourhood to meet emergencies 
 or to explain manifestations that appear to be 
 mysterious. 
 
 Slowly, however, the real facts of the case 
 became known to the older citizens, and these, as 
 usual, were disposed to be sympathetic ; especially 
 Colonel Fontaine Flournoy, of whose family the 
 Coys had, in old times, been retainers not in the 
 feudal sense, of course, but by reason of long 
 association and mutual obligations. As soon as 
 Colonel Flournoy returned from his South Ameri- 
 
 108 
 
THE TROUBLES OF MARTIN COY 
 
 can adventures he called on Mrs. Coy, and from 
 her learned the facts. He also held a brief con- 
 versation with Martin Coy through the closed door 
 of his room, and tried to convince him of the folly 
 of his course. The effort was unsuccessful. Mar- 
 tin Coy clung to the idea that the revivalist who 
 denounced him had been the means of bringing 
 down upon his head the judgment of Heaven. 
 
 Now, among those who took a sincere interest 
 in the case of Martin Coy was Captain McCarthy. 
 He was one of the few who had heard all the 
 facts. As he was a very practical man, he went 
 to work in a practical way, saying nothing of his 
 plans. But his daughter Nora observed that he 
 was engaged in a very extensive correspondence. 
 One morning she counted as many as twenty let- 
 ters lying on the library table, all sealed, stamped, 
 and addressed. One, she noticed, was addressed 
 to the Pension Office, and this she made the basis 
 of a series of inquiries which were levelled at her 
 father in a tone at once innocent and serious. 
 
 It was, " Dada, dear, do you think I'll ever draw 
 a pension ? I carried your laundry to you when 
 you were in the hotel ; don't you think I deserve 
 a pension for that ? " Or, " Has the Government 
 ever rewarded you for not taking charge of the 
 paper which was to settle everything ? " 
 
 Captain McCarthy was very much puzzled by 
 109 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 such questions as these until he happened to 
 remember that Nora had been dusting in the 
 library, whereupon, in mock indignation, he tried 
 to catch her. Nora ran screaming and laughing 
 around the room, out of the door into the hall, and 
 from the hall straight into the arms of young 
 Francis Flournoy, who had called at that hour on 
 pretence of asking the Captain's advice on some 
 business matter. He thought, poor young man, 
 that he was very sly and shrewd, and that no one 
 except Miss Nora knew why he called so often ; 
 whereas, Miss Nora was the only one in all that 
 neighbourhood who wasn't really certain. She had 
 her suspicions, and they were very pleasant ones ; 
 but she had her doubts, too and she was very 
 reserved and circumspect ; and she never, under 
 any circumstances, betrayed her real feelings 
 except in a thousand different ways which were 
 plain to everybody except to young Flournoy. It 
 is the way of lovers the world over, so the story- 
 tellers say. 
 
 But when Nora startled Francis Flournoy and 
 herself by accidentally running into his arms, with 
 her father looking on, and not attempting to con- 
 ceal his triumphant amusement, she didn't know 
 whether to laugh or cry. As a matter of fact, she 
 did both at one and the same time, and blushed 
 and bit her lip, and pretended to be very much 
 
 no 
 
NORA, WHOSE INTEREST AND CURIOSITY IMPELLED HER TO LISTEN 
 AT THE LIBRARY DOOR. 
 
THE TROUBLES OF MARTIN COY 
 
 amused at everything, and very angry with every- 
 body. But after a while, as they were talking on 
 the veranda, she 'became very much subdued. 
 Wonderful for Nora, she fell into a fit of melan- 
 choly ; and this young Flournoy had sense enough 
 to take advantage of. He was used to young 
 ladies who were romantic and troubled with a 
 gentle melancholy ; but Nora, with her various and 
 versatile emotions, chief among which was a keen 
 and restless humour, had been very much of a puz- 
 zle to the young man. 
 
 When, therefore, she remarked with a little sigh, 
 that she supposed he came to see her father, he 
 remarked that he was in no hurry, and that if 
 well, in short, he then and there took opportunity 
 by the foretop and said what he had been trying 
 to say for many months. And as for Nora, she said 
 that she never could enter into any engagement so 
 serious until her father had approved of it, and so 
 forth, and so on. This suggestion was promptly 
 followed by Francis Flournoy. He could talk to 
 a man ; and he had a long and serious talk with 
 Nora's father, who, after pointing out, as thought- 
 ful fathers will, what a solemn and sacred bond 
 marriage is, said that nothing could please him 
 more than to see his daughter the wife of the son 
 of his old friend. 
 
 And Nora, whose interest and curiosity impelled 
 in 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 her to listen at the library door, became so fright- 
 ened at the serious character of the conversation 
 that she went off somewhere and cried a fact 
 which thoroughly restored her high spirits. Her 
 father, however, must have his joke, for when he 
 saw her he put on a very serious and perplexed 
 countenance. 
 
 " Nora," he said, " until son Francis came and 
 talked with me, I was sure that the event of this 
 morning was an accident." 
 
 " What event, dada ? " inquired Nora, blushing. 
 
 "Why, the performance of rushing out and 
 jumping into the young man's arms." 
 
 Strange to say, she forgot to be teased. Instead 
 of protesting against his whimsical suggestion, she 
 threw her arms around him and exclaimed, " Oh, 
 you are the best man in the whole world ! " 
 
 " There are exceptions," he remarked ; " but 
 what else could I be with such a child as this to 
 give away to the first young lover that asks for 
 her?" 
 
 Now you will say that this is taking you away 
 from Martin Coy and his troubles. On the con- 
 trary, it is carrying us straight to the project which 
 Captain McCarthy had devised. For the wedding 
 of Nora and young Flournoy was made the occa- 
 sion of a device to draw Martin Coy out of his 
 shell, and to convince him that some things are 
 
THE TROUBLES OF MARTIN COY 
 
 true as well as others, as Mr. Nicklin would 
 say. 
 
 It was decided by the young people that the 
 wedding should take place within two months at 
 least, the particular day to conform, of course, to 
 Nora's arrangements. Now, when a girl decides 
 to get married, there's a great question of gowns, 
 robes, and what-nots a question of interminable 
 and unending details ; for the discussions started 
 then may rest a while, but you may be sure they 
 will be carried safely over to the next generation, 
 when the girl who was in such a flurry over her 
 own outfit will be every bit as nervous over that of 
 her daughter. 
 
 Meantime Captain McCarthy carried on his cor- 
 respondence with such vigour that he soon made a 
 discovery of great importance, and this was why, 
 the day before the wedding, h'e drove to the rail- 
 road station a few miles away, and returned with 
 a stranger. This done, the Captain sought out 
 Martin Coy and insisted on seeing him face to 
 face. 
 
 " I like you well enough," said Martin, " but I 
 don't want to see you." 
 
 " I want to see you and talk to you for your 
 own sake," the Captain insisted. 
 
 " My sake ain't so much of a sake as to worry 
 you, I hope," remarked Martin Coy. 
 
 113 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS , 
 
 "We'll never get to Heaven if our neighbours' 
 troubles don't worry us," suggested the Captain. 
 " I want to see you for Nora's sake." 
 
 Now Nora had taken a very great interest in 
 the troubles of Martin Coy. She had gone over 
 and talked to him through his closed door, and 
 only a day or two previous to the Captain's visit 
 had sung and played on the harp for Martin. 
 Being in a romantic mood herself, owing to cir- 
 cumstances, the songs she had chosen were Irish 
 ballads, and the quality of her voice, which was 
 rich and sweet, and the heart-breaking character 
 of the melodies, were sufficient to bring tears to 
 Martin Coy's eyes for the first time in many years. 
 She heard him sobbing when her songs were 
 ended, and she slipped away without saying a 
 word. So when Captain McCarthy said "for 
 Nora's sake," he put a new face on the matter. 
 
 "She's a mighty fine girl, I reckon," remarked 
 Martin Coy. " She came over and sung for me 
 the other day, and who else in all the world would 
 'a' done that ? " 
 
 "It's Nora's way," said the Captain, gently. 
 He had a marvellous touch of sympathy in his 
 voice, when he chose to employ it. " It's the 
 child's way. When she came home she was cry- 
 ing." 
 
 Martin Coy made no reply to this, but after a 
 114 
 
THE TROUBLES OF MARTIN COY 
 
 while the key turned in the lock, and the door 
 opened. "Come in, and I'll strike a match," he 
 said. This done, a candle was soon lighted, and 
 Martin Coy turned inquiring eyes on the face of 
 the man who had insisted on seeing him. He was 
 surprised to find that the look which Captain 
 McCarthy fixed on him was not one of curiosity. 
 
 " I was not especially anxious to see your face," 
 explained the Captain. " I wanted you to see 
 mine, so that you could judge for yourself whether 
 I am likely to make an idle or a foolish request of 
 a man, who, for so many years, has had sorrow 
 for a bedfellow." 
 
 The features of Captain McCarthy could be 
 stern enough when the necessity arose, but they 
 were softened now and illuminated by a friendly 
 light in his eyes. The most ignorant human being 
 in the world would have had no difficulty in trust- 
 ing that face, to which fixed principles and an 
 invincible desire to follow the right on all occasions, 
 and at all hazards, had given a certain air of 
 nobility. 
 
 "The request I want to make is that you will 
 come to Nora's wedding." 
 
 Martin Coy frowned and threw up both hands 
 with a querulous exclamation: "Now, Cap, you 
 know I can't do that. Oh, why do yov pester me 
 that-a-way ? " 
 
 S 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 "The ceremony will take place at night," re- 
 marked McCarthy ; " to-morrow night." 
 
 " But everything'll be all lit up ; folks could see 
 me a mile in that light. No, Cap, I wish the child 
 mighty well ; that's enough ; I don't want to bring 
 no judgment down on her head. They say she's 
 purty as a pink ; I'd give her bad luck the balance 
 of her days. Look at me ! O Lord, look at me ! " 
 
 " You will sit in a dark room, and you will be 
 seen only by those you desire to see." Martin 
 Coy rubbed his hands together as though washing 
 them. " And Nora has set her heart on it. She 
 says she won't be as happy as she wants to be if 
 you fail to come." 
 
 "Did she say that?" Martin Coy's voice broke 
 and grew husky. 
 
 " She said a great deal more than that," replied 
 Captain McCarthy. " She said she couldn't bear 
 to be happy, knowing that you were sitting here 
 lonely and unhappy." 
 
 " Lord, Lord ! " cried Martin Coy, covering his 
 face with both hands. " Has she allers been like 
 that ? " he asked, after a while. 
 
 " Ever since she was a little slip of a girl," said 
 Captain McCarthy. 
 
 Martin Coy walked up and down the room for 
 some time. Then he paused. " Will you come 
 after me ? " he asked. 
 
 116 
 
THE TROUBLES OF MARTIN COY 
 
 " Certainly," said the other, " with the greatest 
 pleasure in the world. And I'll say this" Cap- 
 tain McCarthy's eyes were speaking now " when 
 you return home from Nora's wedding, you'll 
 never walk in the darkness any more; you'll 
 never hide from the light of the sun any more." 
 
 "You reckon not?" asked Coy, eagerly. 
 
 " You'll see, my friend." 
 
 When Captain McCarthy went downstairs, Mrs. 
 Coy was waiting for him. What had happened, 
 and how did he manage to get in the room ? 
 To her mind, the explanation didn't explain, and 
 when she learned that her husband had promised 
 to attend Nora's wedding, she vowed that wonders 
 would never cease, though this was the greatest 
 wonder of all. 
 
 Martin Coy went to the wedding. The library 
 had no light in it, and the door looking out into 
 the parlour had a strip of white ribbon tied across 
 it, and this kept all intruders out. The house was 
 filled with a goodly company of men and women, 
 boys and girls, and there was a great mixture of 
 music and laughter, rustling dresses, fluttering 
 fans, and the incessant chatter proper to a festal 
 occasion. Martin Coy feasted his eyes and ears 
 on it all. He felt elated without ' knowing why. 
 He paid no attention when the door leading upon 
 the veranda opened and some one came in and took 
 117 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 a seat not far from him. He heard nothing until 
 Captain McCarthy came in by the same door and 
 closed it with something like a bang. 
 
 Then Martin Coy turned and saw some one 
 sitting near him. His eyes by long use had 
 become habituated to the darkness. He arose, 
 and shrank away with a smothered groan. He 
 stumbled and would have fallen but for the strong 
 arm of Captain McCarthy. 
 
 " I know'd it ! I know'd it ! It's a judgment ! 
 Do you see anything in that cheer there ? " 
 
 " Why, certainly," replied the Captain. " I see 
 Captain Harvey Coy, of Missouri." 
 
 " Why, Harvey Coy's as dead as a door nail ; I 
 killed him myself," said Martin, shaking all over. 
 
 " Just feel of me, Martin, and see if I'm dead," 
 exclaimed Harvey. 
 
 " Oh, why didn't you come before, or write ? " 
 Martin asked petulantly. 
 
 "After I got well, I hated everybody in the 
 South," replied Harvey, " and after I got over my 
 spell of hating, I didn't know how you people would 
 treat a man who had fought on the other side." 
 
 Captain McCarthy slipped out and left them, 
 and when he came back an hour after to warn 
 them that the ceremony was about to begin, he 
 found Martin laughing and telling his brother 
 some incident of his childhood. 
 
 Ill 
 
THE TROUBLES OF MARTIN COY 
 
 After the wedding was over and the congratula 
 tions had been said, and Nora and her husband 
 had been whirled away in a carriage to catch the 
 midnight train, Captain McCarthy slapped Martin 
 Coy on the shoulder and said in a bantering tone, 
 
 " Well, what do you think of Nora? " 
 
 " Don't ask me to talk about her, Cap. I git 
 a ketch in the throat every time I think about her. 
 Ef Frank Flournoy don't treat her right, they'll be 
 murder done in this neighbourhood, as certain as 
 the world." 
 
 This topic was new to Captain McCarthy. He 
 half closed his eyes, pursed his lips, rocked back- 
 ward and forward on his feet, and then said 
 sharply, " We'll shake hands on that, Martin." 
 
 But, really, the suggestion was the last remnant 
 of Martin Coy's disordered fancy as it melted 
 away. Nora Flournoy had, and still has, as much 
 happiness as ever fell to the lot of woman in this 
 world, and she earned it by making others happy. 
 And Martin Coy was happy, too, to the day of his 
 death. To the last he insisted that folks never 
 could know what real happiness is until, to employ 
 his phrase, "they had had a whole passel of 
 trouble." 
 
 119 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESI- 
 DENT LINCOLN 
 
I 
 
 ON the first day of April, 1863, young Francis 
 Bethune, of Georgia, sat, the picture of gloom and 
 dejection, in the reading room of the most popular 
 hotel in the capital of the Confederacy. The 
 frown on his swarthy face his features had been 
 tanned by exposure to sun and weather was 
 deepened by the disordered condition of his black 
 hair, through which, in perplexity or abstraction, 
 he had clawed his fingers in all directions. Though 
 Bethune was strikingly handsome when at his 
 best, the casual passer-by would hardly have 
 guessed it, unless, indeed, the young man's singu- 
 larly brilliant eyes had invited a close examination. 
 
 As he sat there dejected and unhappy, he could 
 see the Southern leaders passing to and fro before 
 him, Robert Toombs, impetuous and imperious ; 
 Ben Hill, impressive and genial; Alexander 
 Stephens, pallid and frail, but with the fires of 
 vitality burning in his eyes. These men were 
 Georgians, and young Bethune knew that the 
 
 123 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 mention of the name of his grandfather to any 
 one of them would be sufficient to enlist his inter- 
 est ; but he knew, also, that the most powerful of 
 them could render him no assistance in his present 
 difficulty. 
 
 He had begun a letter to his grandfather, but 
 had torn it to shreds before he had finished half a 
 sheet. The truth is, the young fellow knew that 
 his troubles were of his own making, and he felt 
 that he must depend upon himself. As is ever 
 the case with many young men, he had been some- 
 what spoiled in the bringing up. When he was 
 small no one was allowed to thwart him or to 
 stand in the way of his will, save on those rare 
 occasions when his grandfather, losing all patience, 
 gave him over to a severe trouncing. Thus the 
 spirit of independence which he had developed early 
 was overlaid with perverseness. He had entered 
 the Confederate service as a Lieutenant when 
 twenty-one years old, had been mentioned in the 
 reports for gallantry on the field, and later had 
 been elected Captain of his company. 
 
 Then, as might have been expected, he shortly 
 found himself at cross purposes with no less a 
 person than his Colonel, and immediately pro- 
 ceeded to inform that officer what he thought of 
 him in general and in particular. He was saved 
 from the worst results of his insubordination by the 
 
 124 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 fact that the Colonel knew Bethune's grandfather, 
 Meriwether Clopton, and was very fond of him. 
 Instead of organising a court-martial, the Colonel 
 allowed the young man to resign. 
 
 It was a seasonable experience, and a sobering 
 one. Francis Bethune had a great many fine 
 qualities to sustain him, and he fell back on these 
 instead of giving way to despair. But it was a 
 trying time for the young man. His vanity took 
 wings, and with it nearly all his youthful folly. 
 Yet it was not his native strength that saved him 
 at last, but the thought of two women and a girl. 
 One of these was Sarah Clopton, his aunt, who 
 had been the only mother he had ever known; 
 another was Miss Puella Gillum, a little old maid ; 
 and the girl was Nan Dorrington. He had good 
 reason to think of these two women. His aunt 
 had received him in her arms a few weeks after 
 his father and mother had perished in an epidemic 
 in one of the cities of the South Atlantic coast, 
 and had nourished him from his infancy with an 
 affection as absolute as a mother could entertain 
 for her child. The little old maid, Miss Puella 
 Gillum, was not old enough to be ugly and 
 withered ; indeed, young Bethune thought she 
 was very beautiful. When he was a boy and after 
 he was far in his teens, he used to call on Miss 
 Puella at least twice a week. Before he was 
 
 125 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 twelve, he made these visits mainly to get a cup of 
 Miss Puella's tea and a couple of her flaky biscuits, 
 as white as snow; but when he grew older he 
 went for the sake of spending an hour with Miss 
 Puella, and he always came away stronger and 
 with a firmer purpose to do his duty in whatever 
 shape it came to him. 
 
 Yes there were good reasons why he should 
 think of these women, each so different from the 
 other, and both with such high and noble views of 
 life. But why he should think of Nan Dorrington, 
 that awful hoyden, with a feeling of friendliness, 
 he could not explain. Why should he ask himself 
 what Nan Dorrington would think and say when 
 she heard of his latest performance on the wide 
 stage of folly ? He had been expelled from col- 
 lege, and he had good reason for knowing what Nan 
 thought of that, though she was but twelve years 
 old at the time. Now he was practically expelled 
 from the Army, and what would Miss Spindle- 
 shanks think of that ? 
 
 Spindleshanks ! He had good reason to remem- 
 ber the name, and to remember Nan, too. He had 
 returned from college, wearing the uniform of a 
 cadet, he was nearly eighteen then, and, as he 
 strutted along through the one street in the small 
 village of Harmony Grove, trying to maintain a 
 bold front, in spite of his inward misery, he heard 
 
 126 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 some of the native humorists laughing uproar- 
 iously. He was crossing toward the old tavern, 
 and, casting an eye behind him, he beheld Nan 
 Dorrington marching a few paces in his rear, 
 carrying a small stick as a gun. She had caught 
 the young gentleman's swagger to a T, and the 
 whole town appeared to be enjoying the spectacle. 
 He turned suddenly, his face as red as the wattles 
 of a turkey-cock. His anger strangled him and 
 he stood speechless for ten seconds or more. 
 
 " Thank you, Miss Spindleshanks ! " he cried in 
 a loud voice. 
 
 " You're welcome, Blackleg ! " Nan replied as 
 loudly, and with that she whacked him over the 
 head with the small stick she carried, and his 
 military cap rolled in the dust. 
 
 It was all done like snapping your fingers, and 
 the blow was so sudden and unexpected that 
 Bethune could only stare at the child. His coun- 
 tenance showed anger, but it also betrayed grief 
 and dismay, and as he stood there Nan re- 
 membered him for many a long day with bitter 
 sorrow. Her face was very white, and not with 
 anger, as Bethune turned on his heel and went his 
 way. 
 
 For many weeks, yes, long months, Francis 
 Bethune hated Nan, and Nan hated him just as 
 heartily, not because he had called her " spindle- 
 
 127 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 shanks," though that term was all the more dread- 
 ful on account of its truth, but because (as she 
 explained to herself) he had made her forget that 
 she was a lady. 
 
 But Bethune felt, on this April day, as he sat 
 crumpled up in his chair, that everything like hate, 
 or envy, or vainglory, had gone clean out of his 
 mind. He thought about Nan as she really was, 
 and as his aunt had described her in letters a 
 girl of wonderful beauty, living in a world of 
 romance all her own, and yet remarkably practi- 
 cal, too, generous, sensitive, and tender-hearted, 
 a womanly nature pitched in a high key in 
 which not a false note could be discerned. All 
 this might be so, as his aunt had assured him it 
 was, but still it did not explain why, in his extrem- 
 ity, his mind had turned to Nan Dorrington. 
 
 However He was about to pursue somo 
 argument or other connected with the subject 
 when his attention was attracted by voices behind 
 him. Apparently two men were holding a sort 
 of half-confidential conversation. They were not 
 whispering, but their voices were pitched in a low 
 key. 
 
 Bethune sat with his eyes closed. He had not 
 heard the men come in, and he could not remember 
 whether they were sitting in the room when he 
 arrived or not. Indeed, he was too miserable to 
 
 128 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 try to remember. But what he heard arrested 
 his attention and held it. 
 
 " A pass, you say through the Yankee lines ? " 
 The voice of the speaker was charged with aston- 
 ishment. 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied the other; "that's what I 
 said : a pass through the Yankee lines. More than 
 that, it's signed by Old Abe himself." 
 
 " Whew ! " whistled the first speaker. " Doesn't 
 that seem like treason's brewing on this side ? If 
 there's somebody down here thick enough with Old 
 Abe to be carrying on a correspondence, don't you 
 think he ought to be looked after? The favors 
 can't be all on one side, you know." 
 
 " Ho, ho, ho ! he, he, he ! " chuckled the other. 
 He was immensely tickled. " Why, when it comes 
 to affairs of state and matters of that kind, you are 
 not knee-high to a duck. It's like the etiquette of 
 the Code," he went on, his voice becoming more 
 formal. " The same courtesy that exists between 
 strangers must be maintained between enemies 
 about to engage under the Code. And it is so 
 with this bigger duel we see going on before our 
 eyes. Why, there's but I can't talk ; my mouth 
 is closed; I've said too much now. If Albert 
 Lamar had a mind to, he could tell you some 
 tales that would open your eyes." 
 
 " You don't mean to say that there's a regular 
 129 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 traffic in information and a swapping of passes to 
 carry it on ? " 
 
 " Oh, fiddlesticks ! your suspicions jump farther 
 and quicker than a bull-frog," declared the other, 
 with a note of contempt or disgust in his voice. 
 "Take this pass as an instance. What does it 
 mean ? Precisely this : that a young woman from 
 Georgia, with kinfolks in Maryland, has been 
 caught spying. She was arrested by Stanton's 
 crowd, and would have been hanged if Old Abe 
 hadn't taken her out of Stanton's hands. He had 
 her carried to the White House." 
 
 "Well, I wonder!" 
 
 " Yes, sir ! Had her carried to the White House, 
 and either she's giving trouble, or Mrs. Lincoln is 
 tired of the arrangement. Anyhow, Old Abe wants 
 some Southern man to come after her and take 
 her through the lines. That's what I'm told, and 
 I got it pretty straight." 
 
 " Well, that takes the rag off the bush ! " 
 
 " Now, do you know what I'd do if I didn't have 
 a family ? I'd take this pass, go right straight to 
 Washington, watch for a chance, and fetch Old Abe 
 home with me. That'd end the war, in my judg- 
 ment. If it didn't, it would make a big man of 
 nie. It's a mighty fine chance for some chap 
 that doesn't give a red whether school keeps 
 or not" 
 
 130 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 " That description fits me to a T," said Francis 
 Bethune, rising from his chair. 
 
 One of the parties to the conversation arose also. 
 He was the man who had been dealing out the con- 
 fidential information. " Well here ! hold on, my 
 friend ! You are a gentleman, I hope." 
 
 Bethune straightened himself and threw back his 
 head. 
 
 " My label is on my valise. Where is yours ? " 
 
 " Oh, folderol ! don't fly up. My name is Phil 
 Doyle." 
 
 " Mine is Francis Bethune." 
 
 " Very good," said Mr. Doyle. " I reckon I've 
 heard of you. If you belong to the Bethune 
 family, you ought to know something about the 
 Cloptons." 
 
 " Meriwether Clopton is my grandfather." 
 
 " Then you can draw on me for all the good-will 
 you want, and good-will goes a long ways some- 
 times." 
 
 " I had no intention of listening to your conver- 
 sation, up to a certain point, and then I listened for 
 a reason that I'll be glad to explain to you at a 
 more convenient place and time." 
 
 " In my room, for instance ? " suggested Doyle. 
 
 " Certainly, and the present time is as convenient 
 for me as any other." 
 
 Excusing himself to the friend with whom he 
 131 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 had been talking, Mr. Doyle led the way to his 
 room. He was evidently a man of some impor- 
 tance about the Confederate capital, for his apart- 
 ments were, for that period, perfect in their 
 appointments. 
 
 No long time was required for young Bethune 
 to explain to Mr. Doyle his position and his lack 
 of prospects, and the reasons why he was willing to 
 undertake the adventure which had been suggested. 
 
 " Do you mean to tell me," Mr. Doyle exclaimed, 
 after the explanation had been made, "that you 
 propose to make an effort to fetch Mr. Lincoln 
 out of Washington?" 
 
 " Certainly ; what else can I do ? Look at my 
 position and prospects." 
 
 Mr. Doyle drummed on the table as though lost 
 in thought. Bethune's imagination conjured up 
 the face of Nan Dorrington, and she seemed to 
 be looking at him through a vague mist, not 
 angrily or contemptuously, as was her habit, but 
 with surprise and sorrow. 
 
 At that moment there came a sharp rap on the 
 door, and Colonel Albert Lamar walked in. 
 
 " Excuse me, Doyle ; I didn't know you had 
 company. Why, hello, Bethune!" he exclaimed, 
 recognising the young man. "What are you 
 doing here? By the by, did you know " 
 He paused, took his cigar from his mouth, care 
 
 132 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 fully removed the ash with a wooden toothpick, 
 and blew his breath softly against the glowing end. 
 He evidently had something on his mind which he 
 had intended to speak of. 
 
 " Did I know what, Colonel ? " Bethune asked. 
 
 "We'll speak of it later. Tell me about your- 
 self; how you are getting on, and everything; in 
 short, give me the news. A man who has had to 
 sit up all night with a newspaper to see if his 
 editorial articles have been put in right side up, 
 never knows the value of news after it is in print. 
 To print it is to kill it dead. Tell me something 
 fresh; give me the latest army scandal. Has 
 General been on another jag ? " 
 
 In answer to this volley of inquiries, Francis 
 Bethune told the story of his own troubles, and 
 when he was quite through, Colonel Lamar 
 looked at him seriously for some moments and 
 then indulged in a fit of hearty laughter. 
 
 "Some folks might think you get your touchi- 
 ness from the Huguenot strain, but you don't; 
 you get it from your great-grandfather, Matthew 
 Clopton. Did you ever hear the upshot of his 
 efforts to get justice for Eli Whitney, the inventor 
 of the cotton-gin ? " 
 
 " Yes, I have heard my grandfather speak of it," 
 said Bethune, laughing. 
 
 "What was it?" asked Mr. Doyle. 
 133 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 "Well, the farmers and men with money in 
 Georgia and other cotton states combined to rob 
 Whitney. They managed to get some of the 
 judges on their side, and their scheme succeeded 
 completely. Whitney came back to Georgia to 
 fight for his rights, and he was taken up by your 
 great-grandfather, who had plenty of money. But 
 the courts were too much for him. He got hold of 
 one judge and f railed him out, slapped the jaws of 
 another, denounced a third in a public tavern, and 
 then took Whitney home with him to Shady Dale, 
 where he stayed for some time. Old Matt was a 
 war-horse, so the old folks say." 
 
 " He must have been," Doyle assented. 
 
 " What was the name of the Maryland lady one 
 of your uncles married ? " inquired Colonel Lamar, 
 in a reminiscent way. 
 
 A barely perceptible smile crept into Bethune's 
 countenance. " Elise, she calls herself, but I think 
 the entry in the Bible is Elizabeth. She went back 
 to Maryland when the war came on." 
 
 Colonel Lamar nodded his head two or three 
 times. "How old is she?" he asked. 
 
 "Why, she must be thirty-five," replied Bethune ; 
 " but the last time I saw her she didn't look older 
 than twenty-five, and her head was just as full of 
 romantic stuff as a schoolgirl's. She said she wa 
 going back home to be a Confederate spy." 
 
 134 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 "Just so," responded the Colonel. 
 
 Thereupon, as there was a lull in the conver- 
 sation, Mr. Doyle informed Colonel Lamar that 
 young Bethune had expressed a desire to go to 
 Washington in response to the invitation implied 
 in the pass which had been forwarded to Rich- 
 mond. 
 
 The Colonel looked at Bethune with wide-open 
 eyes, in which there was a twinkle of amuse- 
 ment. 
 
 "Well, well!" he exclaimed; "it's quite a co- 
 incidence." 
 
 "What is?" 
 
 " Why, the fact that you should be the man to 
 accept the mission." 
 
 " What does it coincide with ? " 
 
 " With well, you'll find out when you get 
 there." 
 
 " I'm not going after the woman," said Bethune. 
 " It is my purpose to bring Mr. Lincoln back with 
 me." 
 
 Colonel Lamar threw his head back and laughed 
 heartily. 
 
 " If you do that," he remarked, " you'll have a 
 name in history, sure enough. Old Matt Clopton 
 might have done it, or John Clark, or any of the 
 chaps that flourished in Revolutionary days, but 
 we don't measure up to such things these times. 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 We're about half a head too low, or we lack some 
 of the muscles that hold a man's gizzard in the 
 right place." 
 
 " Well, I may fail," said Bethune, " but I'm not 
 going with the idea of failure in my head." 
 
 " In that case, I'd advise you not to go," Colonel 
 Lamar suggested. 
 
 But Bethune shook his head. He had made up 
 his mind ; he had counted the cost, and all that he 
 asked was that he should be provided with a com- 
 panion of his own selection. 
 
 " Now that makes the business more ticklish than 
 it would otherwise be," said Mr. Doyle. " Whom 
 would you suggest ? " 
 
 " Billy Sanders. He belongs to Company B, of 
 the Third Georgia." 
 
 "Why, I used to know Billy," remarked Colonel 
 Lamar, laughing. " He's what they call a ' char- 
 acter,' and if he sizes up with my recollection, he's 
 just the man that I wouldn't like to take along on 
 such an expedition. Why, he must be sixty years 
 old, and if he hasn't joined the Sons of Temperance, 
 he's likely to get you into trouble. The last time 
 I saw him he was sitting on the courthouse steps 
 in Harmony Grove, telling the world at large that 
 he was the grandson of Nancy Hart." 
 
 " Can you have him detailed for special duty ? " 
 Bethune asked. 
 
 136 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 " I can yes," replied Colonel Lamar, hesitating; 
 " but there's a pass for one only." 
 
 " With Billy Sanders along, there'll be no need 
 for a pass," said Bethune. 
 
 " Well, you'd better take it along as a matter of 
 form," suggested the Colonel. "At a pinch it'll 
 save one of you, but it won't save both." 
 
 ****** 
 
 And so the matter was arranged. Mr. Billy 
 Sanders, who had for years been overseer at Shady 
 Dale, as the Clopton plantation was called, was 
 overjoyed to be with Bethune once more. He had 
 entered the army to be near the young man, but 
 Bethune's company had been transferred to another 
 regiment, and so they had been separated. 
 
 " Dog my cats ! " exclaimed Billy when they met, 
 " it's like eatin' a slice of biled ham to git a glimpse 
 of you. They tell me you've been cuttin' up jest 
 like you useter when you was a boy. If I'd 'a' 
 been your Colonel, I'd 'a' sent for Nan when you 
 got to cuttin' up be dogged if I wouldn't! " 
 
 Bethune blushed at the allusion to Nan's youth- 
 ful attack on him, but he said nothing in reply. 
 He simply turned his conversation to the adven- 
 ture to which he was committed, and canvassed it 
 as far as he could. He had never before consulted 
 with Mr. Sanders on any matter more serious than 
 fishing-rods and hooks, and traps for birds or rab- 
 
 137 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 bits, and he was therefore surprised at the shrewd 
 common sense which the older man possessed. 
 Every suggestion he made was marked by that 
 strange intuition which some men possess in 
 moments of great excitement or peril, and which 
 is the everyday equipment of a few minds. On a 
 large and important field of action and endeavor 
 it is called genius; in ordinary affairs it goes by 
 the name of shrewdness, or common sense, or 
 foresight. 
 
 It would be a very gratifying thing to make a 
 hero of young Bethune, with his black hair, his 
 brilliant eyes, and his swarthy complexion ; but let 
 justice be done in spite of appearances. Mr. Billy 
 Sanders was a very commonplace-looking man at 
 best. He carried a smile on his red and rotund 
 countenance that gave him the appearance of 
 childishness or weakness, and he was childish 
 and weak about some things, but in general this 
 bland and innocuous smile was deceitful. It was 
 as complete a mask, indeed, as ever man wore. 
 There was an innocent stare in the mild blue eyes 
 and a general air of helplessness about the man 
 that went far to confirm the smile. 
 
 The most cunning reader of character would have 
 placed Mr. Billy Sanders in the category of weak- 
 minded people a helpless countryman, ready to 
 be victimised or imposed upon by any chance comer 
 
 138 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 But in fact, Mr. Sanders was a man of far different 
 mould and mettle. He was old enough to be a 
 good judge of human nature, and the fact that he 
 was born and bred in the country, and had little or 
 no book education, had not interfered a particle 
 with the growth and development of those ele- 
 mental qualities which are the basis and not the 
 result of book education. He had, as it were, good 
 blood and strong bones. His grandmother was as 
 perfect a type of the American heroine as has ever 
 been seen, and " Old Bullion " Benton was named 
 after one of his great uncles, Thomas Hart. One 
 who knew Mr. Sanders well remarked of him : 
 " He looks like a busted bank, don't he ? all 
 buildin' and no assets. Well, don't fool yourself. 
 There ain't a day in the year, nor an hour in the 
 day, when he ain't on a specie basis." 
 
 And yet it was not on account of these things 
 that young Bethune selected Mr. Sanders to be his 
 comrade in his projected adventure. His main 
 reason was that he had known Mr. Sanders and 
 had been familiar with him all his life. He knew 
 that his old friend could be depended on. 
 
 It had been arranged that young Bethune should 
 receive the pay of a Captain while detailed for 
 special service, on learning which Mr. Billy San- 
 ders remarked with a broad grin, "You'll be the 
 Cap'n and I'll be the Commissary." It was when 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 they met with Mr. Doyle to lay out a definite pro- 
 gramme that the true character of Mr. Sanders 
 made itself apparent. Doyle had mapped out 'he 
 whole route in the most careful manner, and had 
 reproduced it with the accuracy of an engineer or 
 an architect. Mr. Sanders put on his spectacles, 
 examined it patiently, and asked a number of ques- 
 tions, which were glibly answered. Then, looking 
 over his glasses at Mr. Doyle, he inquired, 
 
 "Are you comin' along wi' us to keep us on this 
 track?" 
 
 " Well, no," replied Mr. Doyle, somewhat taken 
 aback. " There's no necessity for that." 
 
 "Then this conflutement," Mr. Sanders remarked, 
 holding the tracing up and smiling benevolently, 
 " ain't wuth shucks. The paper's so stiff an' onruiy 
 you can't even light your pipe wi' it." With that 
 he crumpled the document in his fist and dropped 
 it in a wooden cuspidor filled with sand and cigar 
 stumps. 
 
 " Well, I'll be ! " said Mr. Doyle under his 
 
 breath. 
 
 " Me too me too ! " exclaimed Mr. Sanders, 
 cheerfully. "I'm truly glad you said the word; 
 it helps me more'n it does you, I reckon." He 
 paused and grew a trifle serious, though he still 
 smiled. " I'll tell you how it is, Colonel," he went 
 on, " if you was to come down yan-way where I 
 
 140 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 live at, an' lay off to hunt wild turkeys, an' I was 
 to come an' fetch you a map of the road you oughter 
 f oiler, what'd be the state an' feelin's of your senti- 
 ments ? I'll allow the cases ain't the same, but 
 you'd jest as well try to map out the road a bird'll 
 foller when he gits on the wing. Every time he 
 sees a hawk or hears a gun he'll change his 
 course." 
 
 Bethune, who had been somewhat vexed at the 
 cavalier way in which Mr. Sanders had disposed 
 of the map, saw at once that the reasoning was 
 sound. Mr. Doyle seemed to see it, too. At any 
 rate, he assented to the proposition without argu- 
 ment, and after some further conversation in regard 
 to the necessary funds, of which he appeared to 
 have an abundant supply, he took his leave. Later, 
 when he saw Bethune alone, he took occasion to 
 pay a passing tribute to the good sense of Mr. 
 Billy Sanders. And it is a fact that, while Mr. 
 Sanders would have been placed in the illiterate 
 class by a census-taker, he had more real know- 
 ledge and native sagacity than one-half the people 
 we meet every day. Some such concession Mr. 
 Doyle made to young Bethune. 
 
 But Mr. Sanders insisted on having his sus- 
 picions of Mr. Doyle. It was in vain that Bethune 
 pointed out how he had solicited the adventure. 
 "That's as may be," Mr. Sanders remarked 
 
 141 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 " Albert Lamar don't know enough about him to 
 tell us what he's up to. But don't fret ; it'll pop 
 up an' fly out, an' when it does I'll put my finger 
 on it an' let you tell it howdye. I ain't afeard of 
 his capers any more'n if he was a boss, but I want 
 to know what's behind all this correspondin* wi' 
 the common enemy, as you may say." 
 
 Mr. Doyle tried hard to find out by which route 
 they proposed to reach Washington, but Mr. San- 
 ders hadn't made up his mind, and refused flatly 
 to decide until after they had left Richmond. 
 "The reason I ask," Mr. Doyle explained, "is 
 because I have friends who could help you along, 
 and give you assistance at a pinch." 
 
 This was reasonable enough, but it had no effect 
 on Mr. Sanders, who remarked that there couldn't 
 be two congresses in the same town at the same 
 time, and he informed Mr. Doyle that the Bethune 
 congress (Billy Sanders, doorkeeper) would hold 
 its first session in another county. 
 
 When everything was ready for their departure, 
 Mr. Doyle was informed that they would leave the 
 next morning between midnight and dawn. Shortly 
 after supper he sought them out and confided to 
 their care a sealed document, with instructions how 
 and where to deliver it. Later, Colonel Albert 
 Lamar saw them, and when Bethune told him 
 about the sealed document, he leaned back in hi* 
 
 142 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 chair, looked at the ceiling and smoked awhile in 
 silence. Finally he remarked : 
 
 " I've tried to get under the cover with Doyle, 
 but I can't. He's a head clerk in one of the 
 departments, but I can't find out where he came 
 from nor how he got in. But he's in, and nobody 
 seems to know anything about him." 
 
 " As sure as you're born there's something dead 
 up the creek," Mr. Sanders declared. 
 
 " Well, on your way to Washington, go to New 
 York," said Colonel Lamar, " put up at the New 
 York Hotel, and make it a point to bow to the head 
 waiter ; ask him when he comes to you if his name 
 is McCarthy, then when opportunity offers turn the 
 document over to him. He'll know precisely what 
 to do." 
 
 "The head waiter! " exclaimed Bethune, laughing. 
 
 " Yes ; you won't laugh at him when you come 
 to know him. He's an Irishman." 
 
 " Hadn't we better burn the thing now an' be 
 done wi' it?" asked Mr. Sanders. 
 
 " No," replied the Colonel ; " if the paper's what 
 I think it is, it won't hurt you to have it on you 
 should you chance to be arrested." 
 
 ****** 
 
 Now, when Francis Bethune and Mr. Sanders 
 were ready to retire, that is to say, when Mr. Billy 
 Sanders was on the point of putting a red flannel 
 
 J43 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 cap over his head to keep the bald spot from 
 catching cold, there came a gentle tap on the door, 
 a tiny tap, as if some one had knocked with a 
 pencil or a pipe stem. As the two made no 
 response, but sat listening, the tap was repeated 
 as gently as before. Whereupon Bethune opened 
 the door, and saw a big, overgrown boy standing 
 there, smiling as though he were embarrassed. 
 He seemed to be younger than Bethune by a year 
 or two, and the freshness and innocence of a 
 country life beamed on his handsome countenance 
 and sparkled in his black eyes. He handed 
 Bethune a note pencilled on a piece of brown 
 writing-paper, the kind fashionable in the Con- 
 federacy. It read: 
 
 " DEAR BETHUNE : The bearer of this is Mr. John Oma- 
 hundro, a good friend of mine. He calls at my request, and 
 you may depend on him as you would on me. Luck go with 
 
 you ! " ALBERT R. LAMAR." 
 
 While Bethune was reading this short note, 
 Omahundro, while waiting for an invitation, en- 
 tered the room, closed the door behind him and, 
 after bowing to Mr. Billy Sanders, seated himself 
 in a chair. He was evidently not fond of con- 
 ventions and formalities. 
 
 " I saw the Colonel a little while ago," he said, 
 after his name and credentials had been given to 
 
 144 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 Mr. Sanders, "and he asked me to come up and 
 have a talk with you. He says you're going into 
 the North country on account of some business 
 of a man named Doyle." 
 
 "That is what Mr. Doyle thinks," replied 
 Bethune. 
 
 " Oh, I see ! " remarked Omahundro. " Well, 
 that makes me feel better. I don't know what 
 you're up to, and I don't want to know ; but I think 
 I know what this man Doyle is up to, and I'll have 
 him run to ground long before you get back. I 
 saw Colonel Lamar just now, and says I, 'Colonel, 
 who's going to leave this hotel between midnight 
 and day ? ' The Colonel laughed and said it'd be 
 so after a while that cold chills would run up and 
 down his back every time he saw me. ' Who told 
 you about it ? ' says he. ' Nobody,' says I, ' but I 
 heard a man drop a mighty loud hint awhile ago. 
 It's a wonder you didn't hear the echo. I heard 
 him tell the night clerk to wake him up if the men 
 in seventy-eight came down any time between 
 midnight and day. He said they were friends of 
 his and he wanted to tell 'em good-by, and then 
 he took the clerk off to one side and the two of 
 'em jabbered quite a whet together.' 'That was 
 our friend Doyle,' says the Colonel. 'You've 
 called the turn, color, and spot,' says I." 
 
 " Well, it was mighty funny to see the Colonel 
 145 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 roll the end of his cigar in his mouth. Then, 
 'Come with me,' he says. He went behind the 
 counter and I followed along. He says to the 
 clerk, 'Oscar, is Doyle a particular friend of 
 yours ? ' ' Not as you may say particular,' says 
 Oscar. 'Well,' says the Colonel, 'the men in 
 seventy-eight are going away to-night on impor- 
 tant business. They're not Doyle's friends, and 
 there's no reason in the world why he should be 
 roused out of bed when they come down.' Oscar 
 seemed to be stumped at this, and he looked as if 
 he was trying to find some way out. So I put in. 
 Says I, ' If they come down before midnight, you 
 don't have to roust your friend out, do you ? ' His 
 face cleared up at this, and he says, ' No, I don't, 
 for I don't take charge of the desk till midnight.' 
 
 "So there you are," Omahundro went on. 
 " Colonel Lamar has paid your bill. I am going 
 a piece of the way myself, and I have two extra 
 horses for Jeb Stuart's use. If you say the word, 
 I'll give you a lift as far as I am going on horse- 
 back, and then I'll put you in touch with some of 
 Mosby's men. But to go with me you must start 
 now." 
 
 Mr. Billy Sanders sighed, turned and looked at 
 the bed on which he was sitting and patted the 
 mattress caressingly. " She feels as nice as a fat 
 gal at camp-meeting," he remarked. 
 
 146 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 "You'd better hug the pillow, anyhow," said 
 Omahundro, laughing. " It'll be some days before 
 you'll lay your head on as plump a one." This 
 Mr. Sanders proceeded to do. He took the pillow 
 in his arms and fondled it as a mother would 
 fondle a baby, to the great amusement of his com- 
 panions. 
 
 In twenty minutes the party had passed out of 
 the hotel. On the sidewalk they met Colonel 
 Lamar, bade him good-by, went to a livery stable 
 near at hand, and in a very short time were leav- 
 ing Richmond behind them as they journeyed 
 toward the front. Two circumstances favoured 
 them : the weather was very cold for the time of 
 year, so cold, indeed, that occasionally they dis- 
 mounted and ran along by the side of their horses 
 to keep their feet warm, and the concentration 
 of Federal and Confederate troops was taking the 
 shape that finally led to the battles of Chancellors- 
 ville and Fredericksburg. Their course was in a 
 northwesterly direction after they left the city. 
 
 Omahundro parted with Bethune and Mr. San- 
 ders, after making an arrangement whereby they 
 were enabled to purchase two horses which had 
 seen considerable service. In fact, the animals 
 had been turned out to die, but a thrifty citizen 
 had picked them up and attended to their wants so 
 successfully that they showed no evidence of the 
 
 H7 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 hard times they had when they went with Stuart 
 around McClellan's army. 
 
 Bethune and Sanders made their way to War- 
 renton, then to Thoroughfare Gap, and thence 
 into what was known as Mosby's Confederacy ; 
 then through Ashby's Gap to Berryville, where 
 they were fortunate enough to meet up with three 
 men belonging to Captain McNeill's Rangers, who 
 had been south with a squad of prisoners. Mc- 
 Neill's company operated to some extent in Hamp- 
 shire County, West Virginia, and it was to this 
 county the three scouts were bound. 
 
 Now, Mr. Billy Sanders had from the first 
 insisted that they should make their way to New 
 York by the Western route. He had good reason 
 for this. Some of the Harts who used to live in 
 Kentucky had moved to Indiana, and just previ- 
 ous to the war Mr. Sanders had made a visit to 
 that state. He insisted that the Hoosiers talked 
 just like the Georgians "onless, maybe, they 
 talk a leetle more wi' their nose than we-all do." 
 His programme was to go to Ohio, take an east- 
 bound train, and make it known to all who were 
 willing to listen to him that he was going to Wash- 
 ington with his son (Bethune being the son) who 
 had been ill treated by his superiors because he 
 couldn't show the advance guard of the Fourth 
 Indiana how to wade through a ford on a creek in 
 
 148 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 the state of Tennessee without drawing the fire of 
 Forrest's mounted infantry on the opposite bank, 
 while all the time the water was running like a 
 mill sluice with both gates open. Yes, sirs ! And 
 Mr. Hart (the same being Mr. Billy Sanders's 
 middle name) was going right to Washington to 
 lay the case before Aberham Lincoln, who would 
 straighten out the tangle, not only because he was 
 a just man, but because the Hart family was as 
 good as any family in Injianny, or in Kaintuck, for 
 that matter. 
 
 It was a very well-considered programme, and 
 it was based on the fact that Mr. Sanders had a 
 secret admiration for Abraham Lincoln. He had 
 read in the papers about the President's humble 
 beginnings, how he studied his books by a light- 
 wood knot fire, and how he had split rails for a 
 livelihood at one period of his career. A hundred 
 times he had remarked to thoughtless persons who 
 were abusing Mr. Lincoln, " He may be wrong in 
 his idees, but I'll bet you a thrip to a gingercake 
 that his heart's in the right place." Being a plain, 
 blunt man, Mr. Sanders made no bones about giv- 
 ing out this sentiment; it was his boast, indeed, 
 that he was ready to " hand around " his views in 
 any company, and those who didn't like 'em could 
 lump 'em. 
 
 Mr. Sanders's programme, to employ his own 
 149 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 expression, "worked without a bobble." This was 
 due mainly to the fact that the year 1863 opened 
 with very gloomy promises for the Union cause. 
 The people of the North were not only gloomy, 
 but indignant. Criticism of the administration 
 was general, and was marked by a fury which no 
 one but Mr. Lincoln would have been able to 
 withstand. The cartoonists were especially fierce. 
 One of the cartoons that caught the eye of Be- 
 thune as they were journeying by train to the 
 East was the figure of indignant Columbia point- 
 ing scornfully at the President and advising him 
 to go tell his jokes elsewhere than the White 
 House. The periodical bore a January date, but 
 some one had torn the page away and tacked it 
 up in the smoking-car, where it had remained. 
 
 The Abolitionists had not been much mollified 
 by the Emancipation Proclamation, claiming that it 
 had been delayed too long to produce any favour- 
 able results on the course of the war. On the 
 other hand, those who were fighting for the Union 
 itself, without knowing or caring much about 
 slavery either as a political or a moral question, 
 were not at all pleased with what seemed to be 
 the surrender of Mr. Lincoln to an extreme fac- 
 tion, and the slave owners in the border states 
 were denouncing what they described as high- 
 handed robbery. 
 
 150 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 It should be said of Mr. Billy Sanders that his 
 spirits rose perceptibly whenever there was danger 
 to be faced, or whenever there was trouble in the 
 air. He walked into the office of the New 
 York Hotel, humming his favourite air of " Money 
 Musk." He had begun to call Bethune " Honey," 
 and it was all that the young man could do to 
 keep his face straight when Mr. Sanders sol- 
 emnly undertook to play the part of a fond 
 father. 
 
 On their first appearance at the hotel, the clerk 
 held them in parley a little longer than was neces- 
 sary. The house was practically full, he said, and 
 he had nothing but a very ordinary room on the 
 third floor. If they would wait until after dinner, 
 perhaps he could accommodate them then. Mr. 
 Sanders, for his part, said any kind of a room 
 would suit him, provided he didn't have to roost 
 on a pole like a chicken, or squat flat on the 
 ground like a puddle-duck ; still, his son had been 
 sleeping out nights in the war, and he wanted the 
 best of everything that was to be had not for 
 himself, mind you, but for his son. Then he 
 turned to Bethune, 
 
 " Honey, didn't you say Mack was stoppin' at 
 this tavern ? " 
 
 " Yes," replied Bethune. 
 
 " Well, if we could see Mack, we'd go like we 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 was greased. Do you know Mack ? " he asked the 
 clerk. 
 
 " There are so many Macks, you know. Which 
 Mack do you mean ? " 
 
 "A man named McCarthy. We were recom- 
 mended to him," replied Bethune at a venture. 
 
 The clerk drummed carelessly on the counter 
 while you could count ten. " I know a dozen 
 McCarthys," he said ; " but, anyhow, Mack or 
 no Mack, I'll assign you to a fairly comfortable 
 room. It has been spoken for, and you may have 
 to exchange it for another." 
 
 "All right," said Mr. Sanders; "we ain't no- 
 ways nice 'bout small matters. If there ain't no 
 bars 'cross the winder an' the key's on the inside, 
 we'll manage to worry along. Put our names 
 4own, Honey. Some gal might come along an' 
 see 'em an' want to swap letters." 
 
 So Bethune wrote " William Hart, Salem, Indi- 
 ana," and under it " Francis M. Hart," with ditto 
 marks under the town and state. " Be shore you 
 git it right, Honey. I've been so shook up wi' the 
 kyars, an' the racket, that if a man was to ax me 
 right sudden what my name is, I'm afeard I couldn't 
 tell him." 
 
 The clerk smiled patronisingly, signalled a porter, 
 and the two travellers were assigned to a room on 
 the third floor the very one, by the way, in which 
 
 ica 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 Colonel Flournoy had his interview with Mr. Bar- 
 num of the secret service. 
 
 "Tell 'em to ring the bell good an' hard 
 when dinner's ready," said Mr. Sanders to the 
 porter. "We'll not keep 'em waitin'. What 
 primpin' I've got to do will be done in short 
 order." 
 
 "Dinner will be ready in half an hour, sir," 
 replied the porter, smiling brightly. "The din- 
 ing room is on the floor below. You walk down 
 the stairway and turn to the left." 
 
 He went out, closing the door gently. "A right 
 peart chap," remarked Mr. Sanders. Then there 
 came a quick, firm tap on the inside door. " Come 
 right in," said Mr. Sanders, heartily. Following 
 the invitation, a tall man, arrayed in evening dress, 
 stepped into the room. His face was smooth- 
 shaven ; his iron-grey hair combed away from his 
 forehead gave a pleasing softness to features that 
 would have otherwise been marked by sternness, 
 especially at this moment when they wore a frown 
 of irritation or perplexity. Nevertheless, the coun- 
 tenance of the newcomer was both striking and 
 attractive. 
 
 " Why, howdy ? " said Mr. Sanders. " If I ain't 
 seed you some'r's, I'm mighty much mistaken. 
 Wait! don't tell me. I've mighty nigh forgot my 
 own name, but I ain't forgot your face. Hold on ! 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 did you ever so much as hear of a place called 
 Shady Dale ? " 
 
 " In what state, for instance ? " 
 
 " Well, in Injianny, for instance." 
 
 The newcomer made no reply to the question, 
 but his countenance cleared up, and a faint smile 
 hovered about the corners of his mouth. " I heard 
 a rumour that two gentlemen had been commended 
 to a man named McCarthy." 
 
 "The head waiter of this hotel," explained 
 Bethune. 
 
 "The head waiter of this hotel," assented the 
 newcomer. " I am the man." 
 
 " Well, the gallopin' Jerushy ! " exclaimed Mr. 
 Sanders. "Why, you look like you jest come 
 from a ball. Honey," he went on, turning to 
 Bethune, "don't you mind the time when a 
 chap come to the Grove in a rig like that and the 
 boys run him down an' ketch'd him an' rode him 
 on a rail?" 
 
 "Where was that? " inquired Captain McCarthy. 
 
 " All in the state of Injianny, close to Salem," 
 replied Mr. Sanders. " You can't run me out of 
 Injianny to save your life." 
 
 " Good ! " cried the head waiter. " And now, 
 who commended you to me ? " he inquired, lower 
 ing his voice. 
 
 " Albert Lamar," replied Bethune. 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 "A fine man that a fine man!" exclaimed 
 McCarthy. 
 
 It required only a few words to explain their 
 reasons for seeing the head waiter. Bethune gave 
 him the despatch which Mr. Doyle had intrusted 
 to his care. 
 
 " This can wait until after dinner," said the head 
 waiter. " I'll join you here about three o'clock." 
 
 " I'm mighty glad to hear you mention dinner," 
 remarked Mr. Sanders, gratefully. 
 
 " It is ready now," said the other. " Shall I 
 have it sent to you ? " 
 
 " No, no ! " protested Mr. Sanders. " I don't 
 want to be penned up wi' my vittles. When I'm 
 hongry I want elbow room." 
 
 "Very well," assented the head waiter, some- 
 what dubiously. "You'll have to be careful. This 
 house is under suspicion ; there are a number of 
 sharp-eyed Government detectives constantly com- 
 ing and going. You are sure, before dinner is 
 over, to fall into conversation with one or more of 
 them. You'll have to watch your tongues. The 
 smallest slip will be enough. Should I or the 
 waiter who has charge of your table change your 
 glass of water, it will be a warning to be very 
 guarded. Should the waiter inquire if you would 
 like a dish of fried spring onions, you will know 
 that some one within sound of your voice is very 
 
 155 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 dangerous. You may come down when you're 
 ready." 
 
 " Say, Colonel," cried Mr. Sanders, as the head 
 waiter was entering the adjoining room, " about 
 them inguns ; I'd like a mess on 'em, whether the 
 Boogers ketch us or not." 
 
 " Very well, sir," replied McCarthy, gravely. 
 On the other side of the door he paused, glanced 
 at himself in the mirror, and shook his head doubt- 
 fully. " The lad is circumspect, but I'm afraid 
 the old chap is a fool." 
 
 In no long time they were in the dining room, and 
 the head waiter escorted them to the first table on the 
 left of the entrance, where they would be directly un- 
 der his observation. It was with some difficulty that 
 either Bethune or Mr. Sanders recognised in this 
 obsequious, suave, and smiling head waiter the stern 
 and stiff person with whom they had just had an in- 
 terview. There was no other person at the table, but 
 presently two others came in, one a thin young man 
 with spectacles, who had the air of a divinity student, 
 the other a tall man with Burnside whiskers. Mr. 
 Sanders was sitting at one end of the table next 
 the wall. Bethune was on his left and the divinity 
 student was on his right. At the other end of 
 the table sat a small man with grey mustache and 
 goatee. 
 
 The head waiter came forward with his ready 
 156 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 napkin, brushed off an imaginary crumb at Mr. 
 Sanders's elbow, picked up the glass of water, and 
 substituted for it another glass that sat on the 
 window ledge. 
 
 " Have you given your order, sir ? " he asked. 
 
 " I reckon I did," replied Mr. Sanders, " but it's 
 been so long ago it seems like a dream." 
 
 " Would you like a dish of fried onions, sir ? 
 They are very fresh and tender." 
 
 " Would I ? " exclaimed Mr. Sanders. " Well, 
 I'd thank you might'ly to try me I ain't had a 
 mess sence I left the neighbourhood of Salem." 
 
 The man who had the appearance of a divinity 
 student leaned back in his chair and balanced his 
 fork on the forefinger of his left hand. " Salem 
 Salem," he said ; " pardon me, sir, but where is 
 Salem?" 
 
 "Well, ef they ain't been no harrycane nor 
 yethquake, Salem is in the state of Injianny." 
 
 "Why, certainly to be sure! What am I 
 thinking about ? " sighed the stranger. 
 
 "Reely, I couldn't tell you," replied Mr. San- 
 ders. 
 
 The other smiled as he wiped his glasses. " Well, 
 I should have known about Salem, for I went to 
 college with a relative of mine from that town. In 
 fact, I think I have a number of relatives in 
 Salem." 
 
 157 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 " What's the name ? " inquired Mr. Sanders, in 
 his matter-of-fact way. 
 
 "Webb." 
 
 " When did they move there ? " 
 
 " Three or four years ago, I think." 
 
 " Sam Webb was the chap you went to college 
 wi'?" 
 
 " Yes," the other assented. 
 
 " What kin was you to him ? " 
 
 "Cousin first cousin." 
 
 At this Mr. Sanders leaned back in his chair 
 and laughed until he was red in the face. 
 
 " What's the joke ? " inquired the man who 
 looked like a divinity student. 
 
 " Well, if I ain't got old Granny Webb on the 
 hooks, I don't want a cent ! " exclaimed Mr. San- 
 ders with a fresh burst of laughter. " Here she's 
 been tellin' me for long years that there ain't a 
 runt in the Webb family, on narry side, for gen- 
 erations, an* I ain't no more'n got to town before 
 the little fust cousin runs under my hand same as 
 a tame rat." 
 
 The hit was so palpable and so unexpected that 
 even Bethune joined in the roar that came from 
 the others around the table. The first cousin 
 laughed, too, but it was plain to see that he was 
 more irritated than pleased. 
 
 " But don't you fret, my friend. Steve Douglas 
 158 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 is a runt, but he's a mighty big man, all the same. 
 I was a Douglas man before the war, but after 
 Old Abe up'd an' said he was for the Union, 
 nigger or no nigger, why, then I was a Lincoln 
 man." 
 
 "And yet," said the first cousin, persuasively, 
 " they say there are a good many Southern sym- 
 pathisers around and about in places." 
 
 " I reckon that's so," said Mr. Sanders. " My 
 farm has been cleared a good many year, but 
 hardly a spring passes but what I have to kill a 
 snake or two." 
 
 Bethune noticed that a great change had come 
 over the head waiter. He was fairly beaming 
 on the guests as they came and went. In fact, 
 he was radiant. His eyes sparkled and his whole 
 manner showed that he was a well-pleased man. 
 As for Bethune, he was astonished at the ease with 
 which Mr. Sanders had handled a dangerous adver- 
 sary. He had known that his companion possessed 
 a courage that was absolutely invincible, but now 
 Mr. Sanders was displaying a new and a rarer 
 quality. 
 
 The stranger made no more remarks, but ad- 
 dressed himself to his dinner and hurried through 
 it. As he was rising from the table, Mr. Sanders 
 took his knife from his mouth to say : 
 
 " Ef you ever come out to Salem to visit your 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 kin, lope out to my farm. It's about four miles 
 out on what they call the Kaintucky pike. I'll tell 
 Granny Webb I seed you; she'll be tickled to 
 death." 
 
 " Why, thank you," replied the stranger. " I 
 shall certainly call on you should I ever come to 
 Indiana." 
 
 " So do ! " Mr. Sanders rejoined. 
 
 Whereupon the spectacled man and his bewhis- 
 kered companion retired. 
 
 II 
 
 Later in the afternoon Captain McCarthy went 
 to the room occupied by Bethune and Mr. Sanders, 
 and his first words were those of congratulation. 
 He shook Mr. Sanders by the hand with great 
 heartiness and regarded him with undisguised ad- 
 miration. " Do you know what you have done ? " 
 he cried. " You have thrown a big black bag over 
 the head of the most capable man in the United 
 States Secret Service. He is really an expert. 
 He only comes here occasionally, and he is a 
 different-looking man every time he comes. The 
 first time I saw him he had black hair, parted in 
 the middle, and a beautiful mustache and eye- 
 glasses. I always have a peculiar feeling when 
 he comes into the house, and this feeling is espe- 
 
 1 60 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 daily strong when he comes into the dining room. 
 I believe if he were hid in a closet and I should 
 chance to pass near it, I'd know he was there. I 
 know him through all his changes, and it is very for- 
 tunate that this is so. I invariably make it a point 
 to let him know that I see through his disguises." 
 
 " You do ? " exclaimed Mr. Sanders, surprise in 
 his voice. 
 
 " Yes ; it is calculated either to make him ner- 
 vous or to give him a certain confidence in me. I 
 find it is always best to appear to be perfectly 
 straightforward, as you were at dinner," added 
 Captain McCarthy, laughing. " Why, I had quite 
 a confidential chat with the man not half an hour 
 ago. When he entered the dining room to-day, I 
 met him at the threshold with, ' Ah ! good day, sir, 
 I'm glad to see you again.' It was a small thing 
 to say, but it disconcerted him. Otherwise he 
 would have addressed himself to you" turning 
 to Bethune "and the consequences might not 
 have been as pleasant as they were. He would 
 have irritated you, sir, and I see you have some- 
 thing of a temper." 
 
 Bethune made a wry face. " I wish there was 
 some sort of patent medicine that would take it 
 out of me, " he declared. 
 
 "Time is the medicine for that time and ex- 
 perience," remarked Captain McCarthy. 
 
 161 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 " It ought to 'a' been spanked out of you when 
 you was a little chap," said Mr. Sanders ; " but so 
 fur as I know, you never got but one lickin' that 
 done you any good, an' that was when Nan frailed 
 you out." 
 
 Bethune blushed like a schoolgirl, for the inci- 
 dent rankled in his memory. The wounds our 
 pride receives are longer in healing than those of 
 the flesh. Captain McCarthy could see that the 
 subject was not a pleasing one to the young man, 
 and so he did not press Mr. Sanders for the particu- 
 lars, but addressed himself to more important mat- 
 ters. First, there was the despatch that Mr. Doyle 
 had intrusted to Bethune. Captain McCarthy in- 
 vited the two travellers into another room, reaching 
 it by means of a series of connecting rooms. Here 
 they found three or four men busily engaged in 
 writing at a long table. Only one looked up, and 
 he (with a " Hello, Cap ! ") went on with his work. 
 To this man Captain McCarthy handed the des- 
 patch, remarking, "See what you can make of 
 that." 
 
 The document consisted of about a dozen lines. 
 In this number of lines there were a number of 
 words marked out by parallel lines, and other 
 words crossed out. The clerk glanced at it and 
 passed it to an older man, with the remark, "It 
 looks all right to me." The elderly man took it 
 
 162 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 and immediately began to swell, apparently with 
 inward rage. " Looks all right, does it ? Why 
 don't you learn a little sense ? We'll be ruined by 
 you yet" 
 
 " Well, it's out of my line ; get the SK code." 
 Apparently still in a rage, and with much mut- 
 tering and growling, the elderly man went to a tall 
 cabinet lined from top to bottom with pigeon-holes. 
 SK stood for Scratch Code, and this he fished out 
 from a number of others a thin pamphlet con- 
 taining a dozen or more pages printed on tissue- 
 like paper. This queer pamphlet contained some 
 information that was very interesting to Bethune, 
 and to Mr. Sanders as well. It assured its readers 
 that a certain word scratched out with one horizon- 
 tal line meant one thing, with two parallel lines 
 another thing, and so on up to five parallel lines. 
 Then cross-scratching and cross-hatching meant so 
 many different things, according to the number of 
 crisses and crosses and scratches and hatches, that 
 the reader finally stood amazed at the fluency and 
 versatility of the SK code. 
 
 The upshot of it was that a document which 
 appeared to be, on the face of it, a very cordial 
 introduction, was about as follows, after the illu- 
 mination of the SK code had been shed on it : 
 
 "The bearer of this is dangerous. Under pretext of 
 bringing a woman from Washington he proposes to kidnap 
 
 163 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 the President. He has a pass from Lincoln. His com- 
 panion harmless. Will tell truth if pressed. Take initiative. 
 Have both arrested, and then tell Secretary. This should 
 help both of us. Let woman be brought South by (aught) 
 (naught) rye." 
 
 It was over the conclusion of this translation 
 that the elderly clerk growled and snorted, and 
 finally gave it up. 
 
 "That's all I can get out of the Code," he 
 grumbled. " The last scratch stands for a cipher, 
 an aught or a naught." 
 
 " Could it be Awtry Waldron Awtry ? " asked 
 Bethune, turning to Sanders. 
 
 " Why, certain an' shore ! I heard some of the 
 boys say that Waldron went over to the Yankees 
 right arter the war begun. All his mammy's folks 
 live in Massachusetts. Why, don't you remember 
 the chap that come to Harmony Grove in 'sixty, 
 preachin' freedom to the niggers, an' how the boys 
 got behind him an' come mighty nigh puttin' out 
 his lights ? Well, that chap was Madame Awtry's 
 Massachusetts nevvew." 
 
 " Then that is the man," remarked Captain Mc- 
 Carthy with emphasis. " For some reason or other 
 this man Doyle wants to get Awtry South again, 
 or he knows that Awtry wants to go." 
 
 Reflecting a moment, he turned to the elderly 
 clerk. " Mr. Crampton, that despatch must be 
 
 164 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 re-copied and re-scratched so as to give a better 
 account of these gentlemen. Why, the nonsense 
 about kidnapping Mr. Lincoln would send both of 
 you to the gallows if Mr. Stanton's eye fell on it. 
 Of course, such a thing was never contemplated." 
 He paused, and fixed an inquiring eye on Bethune. 
 
 "Well " Bethune began, but he paused; he 
 seemed to be too busy copying the translation of 
 the original despatch to complete the remark. 
 
 "Why, of course not," exclaimed Captain Mc- 
 Carthy. "The scheme is preposterous. That 
 man Doyle is simply fiendish." 
 
 Leaving Mr. Crampton, the elderly clerk, growl- 
 ing and grumbling over his task, which was by no 
 means an unusual one, Captain McCarthy ac- 
 companied young Bethune and Mr. Sanders to 
 their room again, where they discussed the situa- 
 tion at some length. Mr. Awtry became a new 
 factor in the problem. Mr. Sanders and Bethune 
 both knew him well, and he knew them. Until 
 1858, with the exception of two college years, he 
 had lived all his life with his mother in Harmony 
 Grove, and there was every reason to believe that 
 he would recognise either one of his fellow-towns- 
 men the moment he laid eyes on him. 
 
 " What do you propose to do about it ? " Captain 
 McCarthy inquired. He had been fully informed 
 by this time of the plan to kidnap the President, 
 
 165 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 but he did not repeat his assertion that it was pre- 
 posterous. That was for the ears of his clerks. 
 
 "I'm going right ahead," replied Bethune. 
 " There's nothing else to do." 
 
 " Yes, sir ! " said Mr. Sanders. " We'll go right 
 ahead an' brazen it out. An' if you hear I've been 
 strung up, why jest drap a line to Meriwether 
 Clopton, Esquire, that William H. Sanders, late of 
 said county, deceased, bein' of sound mind an' dis- 
 posin' memory, has up'd and kicked the bucket. 
 Frank, there, has got a paper that'll take him 
 through. Ef he didn't have, I wouldn't go a 
 step wi' him." 
 
 Captain McCarthy leaned back in his chair and 
 looked at Mr. Sanders with great interest. The 
 steadiness of his gaze was tempered by a pleasant 
 smile, which lit his strong and handsome face. 
 
 " I intended to advise you not to carry out your 
 original plan, but that is not necessary. I intended, 
 also, to beg you by all means not to harm a hair of 
 Mr. Lincoln's head ; but that, too, is unnecessary. 
 You will find that the President is a man after 
 your own heart." 
 
 " Not every which-a-way, I reckon," remarked 
 Mr. Sanders, making a wry face. 
 
 " Yes, in all ways except politics," replied Mc- 
 Carthy. "He is the only man of them all who sees 
 his way clear, or who knows precisely what he 
 
 166 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 wants to do. Outwardly, he is a plain, rough man, 
 with a kindly nature. If you get in any trouble, 
 simply demand to be carried to Mr. Lincoln. I 
 have more than one reason for giving you this 
 advice. If Stanton's crowd get you, and are 
 able to keep your case from Mr. Lincoln's ears, 
 you will surely be hanged." 
 
 A few hours afterward Bethune and his com- 
 panion had crossed the river to Jersey City, and 
 were on their way to Washington. The first man 
 they saw as they entered the train was Waldron 
 Awtry. He was walking about by the side of the 
 coach talking to some one. He had a light mili- 
 tary cape hung across his arm, and his tall figure 
 and haughty bearing made him conspicuous in the 
 multitude that swarmed about the station. Un- 
 doubtedly Mr. Awtry saw the two Southerners. 
 He paused in his promenade and looked them in 
 the face, under pretence of transferring his cape 
 from one arm to the other. But he made no sign 
 of recognition, nor did they. 
 
 When the train was under way, Mr. Awtry 
 came back into the car. He spoke to one or two, 
 and then seated himself near Bethune and Mr. 
 Sanders, who occupied seats facing each other. 
 After a while a lady came in, whereupon Awtry 
 promptly arose, hat in hand, and gave her his 
 seat. 
 
 167 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 "May I sit by you, sir ? " he asked of Mr. 
 Sanders. 
 
 "Why, tooby shore," replied that worthy; "but 
 I'll have to tell you what the old 'oman told the 
 feller in the stage-coach, 'You can scrouge as 
 much as you please, but I don't want no hunchin'." 
 
 Awtry threw back his head and smiled broadly. 
 Bethune was occupied in reading the Herald, and 
 seemed to be paying no attention to the newcomer. 
 Finally he put it down and glanced at Awtry and 
 caught his eye, but saw no sign of recognition 
 there. Indeed, Awtry took the opportunity of the 
 glance to borrow Bethune's copy of the Herald, 
 which he read for some minutes with apparent 
 interest. Presently he said to Mr. Sanders in a 
 low tone : 
 
 " Do you see the small man in the farther end 
 of the car the man with the eye-glasses ? Well, 
 he took dinner with you yesterday." 
 
 " You don't say ! Is that the chap ? Why, 
 how in the world do you know?" inquired Mr. 
 Sanders. 
 
 " I was the big fellow with side-whiskers. He 
 had a good deal of fun out of me yesterday, and 
 now I want to turn the joke on him. I'm going 
 to move my seat in a moment, and presently he'll 
 be back here. If you catch his eye, speak to him, 
 and let him see that you know him. But don't 
 
 1 68 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 expose him. Talk to him in a confidential way. 
 You know what I mean ; don't make an enemy of 
 him. Another thing, when you get off the train 
 in Washington, follow me. 1 have something to 
 say to both of you." 
 
 All this time Mr. Awtry pretended to be reading 
 the paper, and his voice was so low that Bethune, 
 sitting four feet away, could only catch a few 
 words. He was very curious, but Mr. Sanders 
 had no opportunity to appease his curiosity, for as 
 Awtry joined the group at the rear end of the car, 
 some were standing, while others were sitting 
 on the arms of the seats, a small man detached 
 himself from the group and walked down the aisle. 
 He glanced casually at Mr. Sanders and would 
 have passed on, but the man who was so well 
 acquainted with the Webb family of Salem, In- 
 jianny, wouldn't permit it. He seized the detec- 
 tive by the hand and shook it. 
 
 " Whyn't you tell me you was comin' down ? " 
 he inquired. Then, as if making a sudden dis- 
 covery, he lowered his voice, "Why, what's the 
 matter ? Why, sakes alive, man ! what have you 
 been doin' to yourself ? " 
 
 " I beg your pardon, sir," said the other, with 
 some asperity. " You have the advantage of me. 
 I have missed a good deal, no doubt, but I have 
 not the pleasure of your acquaintance." 
 
 169 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 Mr. Sanders drew himself up and swelled out as 
 if he were about to make some loud exclamation. 
 Then he suddenly caught himself and subsided. 
 "Oh, that's the game, is it? Well, whyn't you 
 sorter gi' me a hint-like, yistiddy ? No offence 
 none give an' none took. If you ever come to 
 Salem, come right out to the farm." 
 
 Waldron Awtry had followed the detective down 
 the aisle, passed him as he stood talking to Mr. 
 Sanders, and now stood waiting for him out of 
 earshot. 
 
 " Who's your friend ? " Awtry asked noncha- 
 lantly, as his companion came up to him. " Oh, I 
 see : it's the old duck we saw at the hotel yester- 
 day. He knew me ; did he know you ? " 
 
 " He certainly did," replied the detective. 
 " What's wrong with me ? How did the old 
 blunderbuss know me ? Am I losing my grip ? " 
 
 "Why, no; not the least in the world," said 
 Awtry, soothingly. " The old man is simply a 
 shrewd countryman with horse sense. Did you 
 ever try to deceive Mr. Lincoln with your dis- 
 guises? Well, just try it, and you'll find you can't 
 do it. You can fool Stanton, but Mr. Lincoln 
 will see through you with one eye shut. Anyhow, 
 I'm going to hang on to this old man and his son 
 for an hour or so after we get to Washington. I 
 may be able to pick up some information." 
 
 170 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 When the train rolled into the station at the 
 Capital, Waldron Awtry managed to be near 
 Bethune and Mr. Sanders, and he insisted that 
 they should go with him. They hesitated ; they 
 had not the least confidence in him, but he knew 
 them. He could have them imprisoned by a word 
 or a gesture ; and once immured, their lives would 
 be in danger, for Bethune had made up his mind, 
 in case of arrest, to destroy Mr. Lincoln's pass and 
 take his chances with the man who was so cheer- 
 fully risking his life as the result of one of Bethune's 
 madcap whims. They had small choice, therefore ; 
 in fact, none at all ; and all the hesitation they 
 betrayed manifested itself in Mr. Sanders's good- 
 humoured protest. 
 
 "We don't want to pester you, we don't want 
 to be in the way. You jest show us a good place to 
 eat and sleep, and we'll be mighty much obliged to 
 you." 
 
 But no, Mr. Awtry would not have it so. He 
 insisted, and they gave a ready if not a cheerful 
 assent. He was stopping at a hotel, and he put 
 himself to a little trouble to secure them a room 
 next to the one occupied by himself. In short, he 
 was fertile in all those little attentions which do 
 not look important, but which add so much to the 
 comfort of those who are the objects of them. 
 
 They had a late but a very good dinner. Mr. 
 171 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 Awtry wanted to order wine, knowing the character 
 and extent of Mr. Sanders's chief weakness, but 
 they positively refused. Mr. Sanders, indeed, made 
 no bones of explaining why he wouldn't touch the 
 stuff. 
 
 "It's a little stronger'n water an' not quite as 
 strong as dram. But it flies to my tongue, an' no 
 sooner does it do that than I begin to make a speech 
 about my fam'ly affairs, good an' bad. An' folks 
 say that I'm every bit an' grain as proud of the 
 black spots as I am of the white uns." 
 
 So, for the time being, Mr. Sanders was a tee- 
 totaller, much to Mr. Awtry's disgust, for that 
 gentleman had fully made up his mind to get into 
 the confidence of his former fellow-townsman, and, 
 if he could advance his own ends by doing so, to 
 turn them over to Mr. Stanton as spies. But he 
 saw at once that Mr. Sanders's unexpected fit of 
 temperance stood mightily in the way. Under the 
 circumstances, he thought it would be best to go 
 about the business in a straightforward manner. 
 It was just possible, he thought, that Bethune and 
 Mr. Sanders, being in the enemy's country, sur- 
 rounded by all sorts of dangers, and beset by 
 fears, real or imaginary, would turn for advice to 
 an old acquaintance a man who had been born 
 and raised in the same community. 
 
 Mr. Awtry had long been what is called a man 
 172 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 of the world. He had travelled abroad, he had 
 seen life in all its various manifestations, and under 
 social forms widely different, and he considered 
 himself, not without reason, to be a pretty good 
 judge of human nature. The trouble in this case 
 was that he underrated the intellectual resources 
 of Mr. Sanders. He made the mistake that so 
 many sensible men make, namely, that a person 
 who is practically illiterate with respect to text- 
 books and to the kind of education furnished in 
 the schools, must necessarily be deficient in all 
 those qualities that are said to be the result of 
 learning. Therefore, Mr. Awtry started out with 
 a contempt for Bethune as a " cub," and for Mr. 
 Sanders as an ignoramus. 
 
 Bethune was, indeed, young in years and in ex- 
 perience, but he was wise enough to submit to the 
 initiative of an older head. And Mr. Sanders was 
 ignorant of Greek and Latin, algebra, rhetoric, and 
 the like, but he was very familiar with the Bible, 
 and his judgment of men (as well as horses and 
 dogs) was all but infallible. He had known Wal- 
 dron Awtry a long time, and knew that he had no 
 fixed principles of any kind whatsoever. Conse- 
 quently, Mr. Sanders was prepared for any move 
 that might be made. 
 
 The very first trial of wits between the old 
 Georgia cracker and the man of the world should 
 
 173 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 have been sufficient to convince Awtry that he had 
 no ordinary man to deal with, but he never even 
 suspected that the occurrence was other than an 
 awkward accident. 
 
 It happened in this way : When darkness had 
 fallen, and the lights had been lit, the three sat for 
 a while in Mr. Awtry's room, talking about the 
 homef oik. Suddenly the latter suggested that they 
 adjourn to the next room, which had been assigned 
 to Bethune and Mr. Sanders. 
 
 " Walls have ears, you know," remarked Awtry, 
 "and we don't know who may be in the room 
 adjoining." 
 
 Mr. Sanders noticed that there was no connect- 
 ing door between Mr. Awtry's apartment and the 
 one he desired to avoid, whereas there was a door 
 between Awtry's room and the one he had secured 
 for them, and the transom was wide open. There 
 was nothing to do but to act on the suggestion that 
 had been made, but as Awtry turned out his light, 
 Mr. Sanders laid his pocket-knife softly on the 
 table. It was a big knife with a horn handle. 
 
 Once in their own room, Bethune and Mr. San- 
 ders became the hosts, and Mr. Sanders became 
 unusually talkative. He wanted to know particu- 
 larly what Waldron Awtry was doing in this " neck 
 of the woods," as he phrased it. How was he 
 getting on ? 
 
 174 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 " You know, Waldron, the folks at home will be 
 mighty glad to hear news about you," Mr. Sanders 
 declared. 
 
 Awtry laughed bitterly. " Oh, I dare say," he 
 replied. " They'd show their fondness for me if I 
 went back there now." 
 
 "They would they certainly would," replied 
 Mr. Sanders, solemnly. 
 
 " I'd go back this minute if I could," said Awtry, 
 in a low tone. 
 
 "Why can't you?" asked Mr. Sanders. "If 
 you think that me an' Frank are goin' back there 
 an' tell everything we've seen an' heard, you're 
 mighty much mistaken. We don't owe you no 
 grudge, an' as for me, I allers make allowances for 
 men under forty." 
 
 " Now, tell me about yourselves," urged Awtry, 
 raising his voice. " What under the sun has 
 brought you two, of all men in the world, to 
 Washington ? " 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you honestly and candidly, Wal- 
 dron," replied Mr. Sanders ; " we are here on the 
 most ticklish piece of business you ever heard of, 
 and the foolishest." Mr. Sanders was sitting with 
 his chair careened backward, his hands in his pock- 
 ets. Suddenly he arose to his feet with an excla- 
 mation. " Be jigged if I ain't lost my knife ! 
 Now, I wouldn't take a purty for that knife." 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 He searched in all his pockets, frowning and 
 grumbling. Then his countenance cleared up. 
 "I know where it is; I left it on the table in 
 the next room." 
 
 He was moving toward the door, but Waldron 
 Awtry was quicker. "I'll get it for you," he 
 said. 
 
 " Don't le' me trouble you," insisted Mr. Sanders ; 
 " I can put my hand right on it" 
 
 He made as if to follow Awtry, but as the latter 
 hurried into the room, Mr. Sanders made two strides 
 to the door leading into the hall, opened it softly, 
 and was just in time to see a well-dressed man slip 
 from Awtry's apartment, close the door behind him, 
 and take the attitude of a listener. 
 
 " Hello ! " exclaimed Mr. Sanders. " How long 
 you been knockin' there ? " 
 
 " Some time," replied the man, trying to conceal 
 his surprise. 
 
 " Well, I thought I heard a knockin'," remarked 
 Mr. Sanders, " but when I git to talkin' my tongue 
 runs like a flutter-milL Waldron ! there's a gentle- 
 man at your door. He says he's been knockin' 
 there for the longest, an' I shouldn't wonder." 
 
 Awtry went to the door, and he and the new- 
 comer greeted each other effusively. It was, 
 " When did you get here ? " and " You must be 
 terribly busy not to hear a fellow hammering on 
 
 176 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 the door," and " You'll have to excuse me ; I was 
 talking to some old friends I haven't seen before 
 in years." 
 
 While this was going on, Mr. Sanders was shak- 
 ing with silent laughter, but he was the picture 
 of childlike innocence when Waldron Awtry re- 
 turned to his chair, after dismissing his casual 
 guest. 
 
 " You forgot my knife, I reckon," said Mr. San- 
 ders, laughing, " but if I hadn't pestered you we'd 
 never heard that chap knockin'. Friend of yours? 
 Well, whyn't you fetch him in? Any of your 
 friends is more than welcome." 
 
 "You were about to tell me something of the 
 business that brought you here," suggested Mr. 
 Awtry. 
 
 "Yes, I was," said Mr. Sanders, and with that 
 he related, in a way more or less graphic, the cir- 
 cumstances that had caused Francis Bethune to 
 resign his commission, and that finally brought 
 him to Washington. Mr. Awtry asked to see the 
 pass, and when he had examined it, he said it was 
 as good as gold. 
 
 "But where is your pass?" he asked Mr. 
 Sanders. 
 
 "My pass," replied Mr. Sanders, "is like the 
 gal's fortune." 
 
 For the first time, Mr. Awtry indulged in laugh- 
 177 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 ter, and it was so becoming to him that Mr. San- 
 ders remarked it and said, " You oughter laugh a 
 heep more'n you do, Waldron. It makes you look 
 like you was a boy ag'in." 
 
 " Now about the letter or despatch. Can you lay 
 your hand on it ? " said Awtry. 
 
 Francis Bethune drew forth a package of letters 
 and papers, and proceeded to search for the de- 
 spatch. Among the papers was half of a daguer- 
 rotype case which contained the picture of a lady. 
 The tones of the picture had been somewhat sub- 
 dued by time, but this added to the soft beauty of 
 the face. It was the picture of Miss Puella Gil- 
 lum. The gentle eyes had an appealing glance in 
 them, and there was just the suspicion of a smile 
 playing around the mouth. The picture had slipped 
 from the papers and lay under the light, face up. 
 
 Mr. Awtry saw it. " Ah, your sweetheart ? " 
 
 "Oh, no!" replied Bethune; "not my sweet- 
 heart, but the best friend I ever had in the world." 
 
 Mr. Awtry took the picture in his hand, looked 
 at it, and drew a long breath. 
 
 " Puella Gillum ! " he said softly. 
 
 "Yes," remarked Mr. Sanders in his matter-of- 
 fact way, " she's still a-waitin' for you, Waldron." 
 
 " For me ? " 
 
 "That's what we all think." 
 
 " Oh, no ! no, you are mistaken. The man good 
 178 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 enough for her has never been born. She's the 
 only woman that could have made me different 
 from what I am." 
 
 "Why didn't you let her try her hand?" Mr. 
 Sanders inquired. 
 
 " If ever a man tried to marry a woman, I tried 
 to marry her," replied Awtry. There was a touch 
 of boyish frankness in his voice. 
 
 " Well, you was a purty wild colt, an' I'm afeard 
 you ain't broke to harness yet." 
 
 All this time, Mr. Awtry had never lifted his 
 eyes from the picture. Finally he laid it down 
 with a sigh. Mr. Sanders, regarding him closely, 
 saw that all the insolence had died out of his eyes. 
 Instead of the sneer that usually hovered around 
 his mouth, there was a whimsical, half-petulant 
 expression, as when a boy has a grievance of some 
 kind. 
 
 Bethune had found the despatch, and now laid 
 it before him. 
 
 ' Awtry took the picture in one hand and the 
 paper in the other and held them up side by side. 
 Then he threw his head back and smiled brightly. 
 
 " Here is the angel," said he, holding the picture 
 higher, "and here is the serpent. If the angel 
 could talk, it would approve what I am now going 
 to do." He struck a match, and held the despatch 
 in the flame. The paper burned with some diffi- 
 179 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 culty, being thick and heavy, but Mr. Awtry per- 
 sisted until the last vestige had been reduced to 
 ashes. 
 
 " If you had presented that despatch to the man 
 to whom it is addressed," he said to Bethune, "you 
 would never have seen your home and friends 
 again. You don't know what a devil Doyle is." 
 He paused and looked at Mr. Sanders with a pecul- 
 iar smile. " And I am worse a hundred times 
 worse. Doyle and I are trying to make a record 
 in the secret service," Awtry continued, " and we 
 seized on the opportunity offered by Mr. Lincoln's 
 desire to get a dangerous woman off his hands. 
 But for the President, the woman would be in the 
 Old Capital prison at this moment, but he heard 
 of her arrest and sent for her. He desired to send 
 her South under the escort of an officer, but the 
 woman declared that she wouldn't trust herself to 
 the care of any enemy of her country. Mrs. Lin- 
 coln, who is a Southern woman, understood the 
 situation from that standpoint, and sympathised 
 with the demand yes, demand. You wouldn't 
 think a woman who was in prison a few weeks 
 ago with evidence enough against her to send 
 her to the gallows would be bold enough to make 
 demands ; but that is just what has happened." 
 
 " Well, there ain't no accountin' for the wimmen," 
 remarked Mr. Sanders. 
 
 1 80 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 " Do you know who this woman is ? " inquired 
 Awtry, turning to Bethune. 
 
 " I have not the slightest idea," was the reply. 
 
 " Up here she calls herself Estelle Brandon, but 
 at % home she is known as Mrs. Elise Clopton." 
 
 " My aunt ? " cried Bethune, the blood rushing 
 to his face. 
 
 " The same," said Awtry, with a smile. 
 
 "Well, if you'd 'a' gi' me three guesses, I'd 'a' 
 called her name," exclaimed Mr. Sanders. " It's 
 'most like knowin' folks's han'-writin'. I'll tell you 
 what's the solemn truth, Waldron," Mr. Sanders 
 went on gravely, " for a 'oman that's got a heap of 
 sense, Leese Clopton is the biggest fool that ever 
 trod shoe-leather. I don't reckon I oughter talk 
 that-away, but it's the naked truth. I've got a 
 right to say it, too, bekaze I'd knock down and 
 drag out anybody else that said it outside the 
 fam'ly. Fool as she is, I'm mighty fond of 
 Leese." 
 
 Bethune made a grimace. " I don't like her 
 much, but I'm glad I came. I hope her experi- 
 ence will take some of the silly romance out of her 
 head." 
 
 " Shucks ! you couldn't git it out'n her onless 
 you changed her head. I'll bet you right now that 
 she thinks she's done wonders," remarked Mr. 
 Sanders. 
 
 181 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 " That's true," said Mr. Awtry, laughing. " She 
 thinks she is quite a heroine." All of a sudden his 
 manner changed. " Come, we've been here too 
 long. They're expecting me to carry you to head- 
 quarters, and some of the boys will come here pretty 
 soon to see what's the matter. We have no time 
 to waste. I'll take you to Mr. Lincoln at once. 
 After that, you'll be safe." 
 
 He hustled around with a great display of energy, 
 and seemed to be really anxious and uneasy. Mr. 
 Sanders, who had developed a copious supply of 
 what he called " good, healthy suspicion," put sev- 
 eral questions to Mr. Awtry. The latter finally 
 handed Mr. Sanders a loaded pistol. 
 
 " Take this," he said, " and if things don't go to 
 suit you, put a ball through my head." 
 
 " All right, Waldron. So be it. I'll do as you 
 say," Mr. Sanders remarked in a tone of relief. 
 
 Awtry ordered a carriage, and in a very few 
 minutes they were on their way to the White 
 House. The hour was not late, and when they 
 arrived there was considerable bustle about the 
 doors. Congressmen were coming and going, and 
 "big bugs," as Mr. Sanders expressed it, of various 
 degrees of importance, were moving to and fro. 
 
 There seemed to be some difficulty about seeing 
 Mr. Lincoln, but Awtry would not be denied. He 
 was as pompous and as imperious in his demand 
 
 182 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 to be shown into Mr. Lincoln's office as any mem- 
 ber of the Cabinet could have been. He sent a 
 card in and followed the messenger to the very 
 door. He had written on the card : " In regard to 
 the Brandon case," and presently some one came 
 out and conducted the three through a side door 
 into the private room to which Mr. Lincoln retired 
 when he was troubled or had a fit of melancholy 
 that somehow went hand in hand with him until 
 his unfortunate taking off. A fire was burning on 
 the hearth, and the three callers sat in silence 
 while waiting for Mr. Lincoln to make his appear- 
 ance. They waited a long time, as it seemed to 
 Bethune and Mr. Sanders, and even when the door 
 opened and a tall man with tousled black hair 
 came into the room. He was followed by a thick- 
 set, quick-spoken person whose features were 
 almost entirely concealed by a heavy beard and 
 spectacles with wide glasses. 
 
 " But, Mr. President," said this person, with a 
 show of indignation, " you will ruin the discipline 
 of the army if you go on reprieving deserters. 
 Why, this case is a most flagrant one." 
 
 " Oh, yes ; I know all about that. But he's a 
 mere lad. Why, he's not more than twenty-two. 
 He got tired and hungry and homesick. Why, 
 when his mother came in this morning and told 
 me the facts, I didn't let her finish. I said, ' Hold 
 
 183 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 on, madam ; you've said enough. I know all 
 about the case I've been in your son's shoes a 
 hundred times.' " 
 
 "But, Mr. President " interposed the other. 
 
 " But, Mr. Secretary," interrupted the President, 
 " you forget that every soldier in the Union Army 
 is a free-born American citizen. We can't afford 
 to hang American citizens because they get home- 
 sick and heart-heavy. You remind me of a fellow 
 I once heard of in Kentucky." 
 
 But before the President could point the moral 
 with a story, Mr. Secretary had whipped indig- 
 nantly out of the room, slamming the door behind 
 him with no show of respect whatever. 
 
 The three visitors had arisen from their chairs 
 when Mr. Lincoln entered the room, and at least 
 two of them regarded him with interest and curi- 
 osity as he came slouching toward them with a 
 chuckle. 
 
 " These gentlemen, Mr. President, have come in 
 regard to the Brandon case," said Mr. Awtry, 
 introducing the two Georgians. "You forwarded 
 a pass, through me, if you remember. Mr. Bethune 
 accepted the commission, and Mr. Sanders " 
 
 "Well, Mr. President, I jest come on my own 
 hook, as the little boy said about the cow in the 
 garden," Mr. Sanders hastened to say. 
 
 " Take seats, all of you," remarked Mr. Lincoln, 
 184 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 cordially. Then he turned to Mr. Sanders, " What 
 about the little boy and the cow ? " 
 
 " Why, one Sunday a little boy was set to mind 
 a gap in the gyarden fence. A panel had blowed 
 down in the night, and it couldn't be mended on 
 account of Sunday. So the little boy was set to 
 mind it. When the folks got home from church 
 the cow was in the gyarden, and the little boy was 
 settin' on the doorsteps snifflin'. His mammy 
 says, ' Why, honey, what in the world is the mat- 
 ter? The gyarden is ruined. How did the cow 
 git in ? ' ' She run her horns under my jacket an* 
 flung me a somerset,' says the little boy. ' I see,' 
 says his daddy, ' she got in on her own hook.' The 
 daddy thought he had got off a good joke, but 
 nobody seed the two p'ints, an' this made him so 
 mad that he went in the house an' loaded his gun 
 wi' a piece of fat bacon, an' fired it right at the 
 cow's hindquarters. She curled her tail an' run 
 off smokin'. They say you could smell fried meat 
 in that neighbourhood for the longest." 
 
 Mr. Lincoln clasped his hands behind his head 
 and laughed a hearty, contented laugh. 
 
 Mr. Awtry regarded Mr. Sanders with a 
 puzzled expression. " Did you say the joke had 
 two points ? " he asked. 
 
 "Why, certain an' shore," responded Mr. San- 
 ders, with alacrity. "You've seed cows, maybe, 
 
 185 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 wi' no horns, but you never seed one made like 
 a rhinossyhoss." 
 
 At this, Mr. Lincoln laughed unrestrainedly. 
 Whatever reserve the shadow of care and trouble 
 had cast over him when he entered the room had 
 been driven entirely away, and his visitors had a 
 very close and intimate view of the real Lincoln, 
 the man of the people. At last, when it seemed 
 time for them to go, Mr. Awtry remarked : 
 
 " The reason I took the liberty of bringing these 
 gentlemen here was that some of Mr. Stanton's 
 men were preparing to arrest them." 
 
 "You did exactly right," said Mr. Lincoln, 
 emphatically. " I'm willing for Stanton to have 
 his fingers in all the pies if he'll let me break 
 the crust in places." 
 
 " Well, at the pace he's going, he'll soon have 
 the whole thing in his own hands," remarked Mr. 
 Awtry. 
 
 "The whole thing, as you call it," replied Mr. 
 Lincoln, levelling a searching glance at the young 
 man, " couldn't be in better hands. I'm told every 
 day that Mr. Stanton has small respect for the 
 President, and I reckon that's so; but the Presi- 
 dent is willing to rock along on a small allowance 
 of respect when he's getting a steady supply of 
 the kind of work Stanton is doing day and night." 
 
 " That's so," remarked Mr. Sanders, judicially 
 1 86 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 "Was Mr. Stanton the man that followed you 
 in here ? " 
 
 Receiving an affirmative answer, Mr. Sanders 
 went on, " I allowed so from his walk an' talk ; 
 but the way you played wi' him put me in mind 
 of the feller an' his trained dog." 
 
 " How was that ? " asked Mr. Lincoln, leaning 
 back in his chair and twisting his long legs 
 together in most curious fashion. Every trace 
 of fatigue and worry had vanished from his face. 
 
 " Well, it was like this : A feller down our way 
 had a houn' dog that he thought was the finest 
 pup in all creation. He was good for foxes, good 
 for minks, good for rabbits, good for coons, an' 
 'specially for 'possums. Natchully, the feller was 
 constant a-braggin' on the dog. Well, one day 
 the feller had company at his house. The dog 
 was lyin' in a corner of the fireplace, an' presently 
 the feller got to braggin' on him. He said the 
 dog was both trained and domesticated. 'That 
 dog,' he says to his company, 'will do anything 
 in the world I tell him to do.' The company 
 sorter doubted about it, an' the feller ups an' says, 
 ' Rover, git up from there an' go out of here.' 
 Rover, hearin' his name, hit the floor a lick or two 
 wi' his tail, an' drapt off to sleep ag'in. The feller 
 hollered a little louder, ' Rover, don't you hear ? 
 Git up from there an' go out of here.' Rover got 
 187 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 up, looked at the feller like he thought he was 
 crazy, an' sneaked under the bed. Well, the com- 
 pany laughed consider'ble. But the feller stuck 
 to his statements. Says he, 'There's a mighty 
 good understandin' between me an' Rover. He 
 knows when I'm playin', an' besides, he's a plum 
 hurrycane when it comes to runnin' coons up a 
 tree.' " 
 
 Mr. Lincoln laughed and looked at Mr. Sanders 
 with a quizzical expression. Just then there came 
 a rap on the door. The President arose, made 
 two long strides across the room, and threw the 
 door open. 
 
 " Mr. President, I heard something awhile ago, 
 and I think you should be told about it," said the 
 newcomer, excitedly. 
 
 "Well, what is it?" 
 
 "Why, when Mr. Stanton went out just now, I 
 heard him say you were a d d fool." 
 
 " Did you hear him say it ? " Mr. Lincoln asked. 
 
 " Yes, Mr. President ; I heard him with my own 
 ears." 
 
 "Well, if Stanton said that, I reckon there must 
 be something in it. He usually knows what he's 
 talking about. I thought you had some news for 
 me." 
 
 " Good heavens, Mr. President ! " exclaimed the 
 person at the door. 
 
 1 88 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Lincoln, solemnly, " good heav- 
 ens and good night ! " 
 
 Bethune sat with clenched hands. He could 
 hardly believe what he had heard. He was dazed. 
 He drew a long breath, arose from his chair and 
 took a quick turn about the room. 
 
 Mr. Lincoln observed the young man's excite- 
 ment. He paused before he seated himself, and 
 turned to Bethune with a smile that did not drive 
 away the expression of sadness which had returned 
 to his face. " What would happen if one of Mr. 
 Davis's advisers should make a similar statement? " 
 he asked. 
 
 Bethune replied, with gleaming eyes, " Mr. 
 President, the man who heard the remark would 
 knock the scoundrel down and afterward call him 
 out." 
 
 " I reckon that's so. Mr. Davis has more close 
 friends than I have," remarked Mr. Lincoln 
 with a sigh. He seated himself and closed his 
 eyes. 
 
 " It ain't so much bein' friends," said Mr. 
 Sanders, somewhat cheerfully, though in his honest 
 Georgia heart he deeply pitied the President, and 
 understood why he was lonely and sometimes 
 melancholy "it ain't so much bein' friends, it's 
 because we're all on high hosses down yan, from 
 daybreak till bed-time." 
 
 189 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 "Well, I wish " Mr. Lincoln paused and 
 looked in the fire. 
 
 Mr. Sanders seized the remark and finished it. 
 " You wish some un'd git on a high hoss for you ? 
 Well, sir, if at any time I'm aroun', an' any of your 
 fellers begin for to give you too much lip, jest turn 
 around to me an' say, ' Friend Sanders, what do 
 you think of the state of the country an' the craps 
 in general ? ' You say them words, Mr. President, 
 an' if I don't make the feller say his pra'rs to you, 
 you may call me a humbug. Down our way they 
 say you're a Yankee, but if that's so, the woods 
 is full of Yankees in Georgia, all born an' raised 
 right there." 
 
 Mr. Lincoln laughed with real enjoyment. 
 "You're paying me the highest compliment I 
 have had in many a day," he said. " But we can't 
 sit here palavering all night." He tapped a bell 
 and a messenger appeared. "See if the ladies 
 have gone to bed." 
 
 Word soon came back that the ladies were tak- 
 ing a light refreshment, and would the President 
 join them ? 
 
 " I want you gentlemen to see what sort of a 
 job you have undertaken," Mr. Lincoln remarked 
 dryly. " I can manage a mule or a steer pretty 
 well, but not a wilful woman." 
 
 "Amen!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders with unction 
 190 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 The President led the way, followed by Bethune 
 and Mr. Sanders, Mr. Awtry saying he would wait 
 for their return. Before they reached the room 
 where the ladies were, the laughter and chatter 
 of Elise Clopton could be heard. She was in high 
 glee. Francis Bethune never knew until that hour 
 why he disliked his aunt. It was the uncertainty 
 and absurdity of her temperament. One moment 
 she was taking herself more seriously than a hero- 
 ine of romance, the next she had plunged headfore- 
 most into well, into inconsequence. 
 
 She was as truly herself here, practically a pris- 
 oner, as if she had been at once queen and house- 
 maid. She had met Bethune's uncle by accident, 
 while he was passing through Washington on his 
 way to Harvard. She, herself, was on her way to 
 a young ladies' school in Baltimore. Neither one 
 of them got any farther. The result of half an 
 hour's conversation, while waiting for the train to 
 leave, was an elopement. In a year or two her 
 husband was dead, but her bereavement had not 
 sobered Elise. At thirty-five she was still as beau- 
 tiful and as lacking in judgment as when a miss of 
 sixteen. 
 
 When Bethune and Mr. Sanders were ushered 
 
 into the room, Elise clapped her hands together as 
 
 the soubrettes do on the stage, gave a smothered 
 
 scream, supposed to represent joy, and fell upon 
 
 191 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 Francis Bethune and kissed him until he wished 
 himself well out of the uncomfortable position. 
 
 " Francis ! " she cried, " allow me to present you 
 to my dear, dear friend, Mrs. Lincoln. My nephew, 
 Mrs. Lincoln. And here is Mr. Sanders ! Oh, you 
 dear, good man ! you make me feel quite at home. 
 Mrs. Lincoln, this is my dear old friend, Mr. San- 
 ders. Are both of you prisoners, too ? Oh, isn't 
 it glorious to suffer for one's country ? " 
 
 Bethune looked at Mr. Lincoln. The President 
 was standing with his hands clasped behind him. 
 He was not smiling, but there was a comical 
 expression on his face. Mrs. Lincoln was laugh- 
 ing unrestrainedly, and it was very evident to 
 Bethune that the lady of the White House had 
 found Elise Clopton sufficiently amusing. His 
 irritation was such that he could scarcely refrain 
 from showing it in words. Youngster as he was, 
 it seemed to him that the whole South was here on 
 exhibition in the person of his frivolous aunt. He 
 was on the point of saying something regrettable 
 when Mr. Sanders stepped in, as it were. 
 
 "You don't look like you've been sufferin' for 
 your country much. Appearances is mighty de- 
 ceivin' if you ain't been havin' three square meals 
 a day, fried meat an' biscuit, an' hot coffee for 
 breakfast, collards an' dumplin's an' buttermilk 
 for dinner, an' ashcake an' molasses for supper." 
 
 192 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 "You see how the men mistake us," protested 
 Elise, turning to Mrs. Lincoln. "Our keenest 
 anguish is mental, but the men never think they 
 are suffering unless they are in physical pain. 
 And the men think the women are too timid to 
 take any risks. Look at me, Mr. Sanders." 
 
 " I see you, Leese," said Mr. Sanders, so dryly 
 that Mrs. Lincoln burst out laughing. 
 
 " Don't mind him, dear friend ; he always was 
 comical. And then there was your grandmother, 
 Mr. Sanders, Nancy Hart. Didn't she suffer for 
 her country ? " 
 
 " She stayed at home an' hit the Tories a lick 
 when they pestered her, two for one, maybe ; but 
 she didn't complain of no sufferin', so fur as I 
 know. The sufferin' was all wi' them that pes- 
 tered her. Anyhow, we've come to take you 
 home, an' when we git there I'm goin' to build a 
 pen to keep you in. Goodness knows, I don't want 
 to be runnin' my head in no more hornets' nest." 
 
 "Why, you don't call this a hornets' nest, I 
 hope," said Mrs. Lincoln, smiling. 
 
 "By no manner of means, mum," replied Mr. 
 Sanders with a bow. " This is the only homelike 
 place I've struck sence I left Shady Dale. But I 
 hear you're a Southerner, an' Mr. Lincoln is 
 Georgy all over, an' that accounts for it. If we 
 wa'n't here, where'd we be?" 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 "Well, we'll go back now and talk about 
 Georgia," said Mr. Lincoln. "To-morrow or the 
 next day we'll arrange about the lady's journey 
 home." 
 
 " Yes ; I am willing to go now," said Elise, 
 dramatically ; " I have performed my duty ; I 
 have risked my life for my native Southland." 
 
 " If you only knew what a close call it was, you'd 
 doubtless be prouder still, I reckon," remarked Mr. 
 Lincoln with a smile. With that Bethune and Mr. 
 Sanders bade the ladies good night and followed 
 the President to his private office, where Waldron 
 Awtry awaited them. They were for returning to 
 the hotel at once, as the hour was growing late, but 
 Mr. Lincoln would not hear to it unless they were 
 willing to admit that they were tired of his com- 
 pany. There were nights, he said, when sleep 
 flitted away from his neighbourhood, and refused 
 to be coaxed back, and this, he thought, would 
 prove to be one of those nights. 
 
 First he wrote out a new certificate for Francis 
 Bethune, as well as a document to insure the safety 
 of Mr. Sanders, and then he began to talk about 
 Georgia sure enough, addressing his conversation 
 mainly to Mr. Sanders, whose comments he ap- 
 peared thoroughly to enjoy. He asked about the 
 people, their views and hopes. Once he declared 
 that if the people of the South knew his intentions 
 
 194 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 and desires as well as he did himself, he believed 
 they would put an end to the war, and come back 
 into the Union. 
 
 " But what about the politicians ? " calmly in- 
 quired Mr. Sanders. 
 
 "That's a fact!" exclaimed Mr. Lincoln; "the 
 politicians and the editors. We have 'em here, 
 too. Oh, I was just telling you of a dream I once 
 had." 
 
 " An' then, ag'in, you're a Ab'litionist, Mr. Presi- 
 dent," said Mr. Sanders. 
 
 " Well, that matter has been settled, so far as I 
 can settle it, but, up to a few months ago, that 
 question was a mere matter of moonshine com- 
 pared to the Union. I said as much to Horace 
 Greeley, and he and his friends had a good many 
 duck-fits about it. All the Government doors have 
 big keyholes except Stanton's. Well, Abolitionism 
 was a great question, but it was small compared 
 with the preservation of the Union. All other 
 political questions are small by the side of that." 
 
 They talked until some time after midnight, 
 with occasional interruptions from messengers 
 connected with the War Department, or with 
 some of the committees of Congress. Once Mr. 
 Lincoln, after receiving a telegram, held it open 
 in his hand, and was silent a long time. Finally 
 he folded it lengthwise m^.ny times, and then 
 
 '95 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 wrapped it around his forefinger, holding it in 
 place with his thumb. 
 
 " It has got so now," he said, breaking the 
 silence, "that I can tell by the rumble of the 
 wheels whether the man in the carriage is fetch- 
 ing good news or bad." 
 
 The President made no remark about the con- 
 tents of the telegram, but he fell into such a state 
 of abstraction that Bethune nodded to the others, 
 and simultaneously they all arose and bade him 
 good night. He no longer urged them to stay, 
 but asked them to return early the next day, say- 
 ing that he wanted to have a good long talk with 
 " friend Sanders." 
 
 Ill 
 
 When Bethune and Mr. Sanders went to break- 
 fast the next morning, they were escorted to a table 
 at which sat John Omahundro, who saluted them 
 in the most familiar manner. Bethune, whose 
 temperament lacked that off-hand heartiness which 
 is sometimes attractive and sometimes repelling, 
 bowed coldly. Mr. Sanders, who was heartiness 
 itself on almost every occasion, smiled vacantly 
 at Omahundro, remarking, " I've seed your face 
 some'r's, I reely do believe." 
 
 " Why, certainly," said Omahundro in his drawl- 
 196 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 ing voice, "I travelled with you from Albany to 
 New York." 
 
 " That's so ! " exclaimed Mr. Sanders ; " you're 
 the feller that helt the 'oman's baby while she give 
 it caster-ile. Well, you're a mighty handy man, 
 but I've been in sech a buzz an' racket, an' seed 
 so many folks, that I'd never 'a' know'd you 
 ag'in." 
 
 They talked on indifferent subjects until the 
 meal had been despatched, and then they sat 
 in the reading-room of the hotel and talked 
 business. 
 
 " What about your programme ? " inquired Oma- 
 hundro. " It's foolhardy, but I'm willing to go 
 into it on conditions I mean this kidnapping 
 business." 
 
 " It's as easy as falling off a log," replied Bethune. 
 
 " Lots easier," remarked Mr. Sanders ; "but " 
 
 " Now you're beginning to say something. But 
 but how are you going to get away ? You don't 
 know a step of the road. How are you going to 
 get Mr. Lincoln safely to the South ? " 
 
 "Trust to luck, I reckon," replied Bethune. 
 
 "What I was try in' to say when you jumped in 
 betwixt me an' my words was that 'ne job is easy, 
 but 'twould be a pity to put it through." 
 
 " You've said something again," remarked Oma- 
 hundro. " Mr. Lincoln has the hardest time of 
 
 197 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 any human being I ever saw. He reminds me of 
 my father." 
 
 " He puts me in mind of all the good men 
 I've ever know'd. He takes 'em all in," said 
 Mr. Sanders. 
 
 " He's a good deal like you," Bethune declared. 
 
 "Well, I wish to the Lord I was more like him," 
 said Mr. Sanders, solemnly. " I'll tell you what, 
 fellers, that man has looked trouble in the eye so 
 long that he pities ev'rybody in the world but his- 
 self. Frank, I'll go into this business if you'll le' 
 me do the engineerin' if you'll put it in my 
 hands." 
 
 " Oh, I've no objection to that," assented Be- 
 thune, with a short laugh. " He's so different from 
 what I expected. By George ! don't you believe 
 it would break his heart to be taken away from 
 here?" 
 
 Mr. Sanders pursed up his mouth and looked at 
 the ceiling. " No-o-o, 'twouldn't break his heart," 
 he announced, after some reflection. " He's a 
 good, strong man, an' from the look he has in his 
 eye, he's seen so much trouble that he's ready 
 to shake hands wi' it wherever he meets it, 
 knowin' purty well that he'll git some fun out'n 
 it somehow or somewheres. You leave it to me, 
 Frank leave it to me." 
 
 "Well," said Omahundro, "if it's to be done, 
 198 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 to-morrow night is the time, between ten and 
 twelve the nearer ten the better. Mr. Stanton 
 usually calls about half-past twelve or one. Mr. 
 Lincoln may ask you to stay to supper. If he 
 does, say yes, and thanky, too. If you take sup- 
 per here, a carriage will be waiting for you at the 
 door. If there is more than one vehicle near the 
 hotel entrance, the driver on your carriage will 
 say, ' Whoa, Billy ! ' If you don't take supper 
 here, the carriage will drive into the White House 
 grounds precisely at ten o'clock. The driver of 
 the carriage will stay with it until he hears pur- 
 suers, or until you meet another conveyance in the 
 road driven by a country chap. If you are pur- 
 sued, one of you must be on the driver's seat to 
 take the lines when my man retires, and then 
 you'll have to take the consequences, and get out 
 the best way you can. I tell you candidly, I don't 
 see how you are going to get out with the Presi- 
 dent, and but for orders from Captain McCarthy, 
 I wouldn't make a move in it. I'm fond of Mr. 
 Lincoln ; I feel like he's kin to me." 
 
 " Well, there are bigger principles at issue than 
 kinfolks and Presidents," remarked Bethune, with 
 some emphasis. 
 
 " That's so," assented Mr. Sanders ; " but I wish 
 from my heart he was more like some of the other 
 Presidents we have had in North Ameriky." 
 
 '99 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 " Good night," said Omahundro. " We may never 
 see one another again. I'm going to help you 
 out all I can, but I can't say that I wish for your 
 success." 
 
 " Nor me, nuther," commented Mr. Sanders. 
 
 The next day found Bethune and Mr. Sanders 
 at the White House. While Mr. Lincoln was busy, 
 they walked about the grounds with Elise Clopton. 
 They were not in a very gay humour, as may well 
 be supposed, and it was a relief to their minds to 
 listen to the lady's chatter. She related her expe- 
 riences from the time she left Shady Dale to visit 
 her family in Maryland, and if her reports were 
 correct, she had been through many daring adven- 
 tures. She was quite a heroine in her own estima- 
 tion, and there is no doubt that, frivolous and giddy 
 as she was, she possessed both courage and pres- 
 ence of mind. Mr. Stanton paid her a high tribute 
 when he told Mr. Lincoln that she was quite the 
 most dangerous and daring spy that had operated 
 around Washington, and he wanted to make an 
 example of her. 
 
 As Mr. Sanders remarked on more than one 
 occasion, there were good points about the lady if 
 you didn't have to live on the same lot with her. 
 Curiously enough, she had conceived a romantic 
 friendship for Mr. Lincoln. 
 
 " Isn't he the dearest man ? " she said to hei 
 200 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 companions as they strolled about, enjoying the 
 warm sunshine. " I think he is just grand. I am 
 dead in love with him. Oh, he is the most fas- 
 cinating human being I ever saw. I used to hate 
 him " clasping her hands and throwing her head 
 back " and now I love him. How can our news- 
 papers abuse him as they do ? " 
 
 Presently Tad, Mr. Lincoln's little son, came 
 from the rear of the house with his goats, and was 
 soon joined by his father, who was assiduous in his 
 attentions to the lad. Elise wanted to go where 
 they were. 
 
 "Now, Leese, don't let's make geese of our- 
 selves," said Mr. Sanders. "The man hardly 
 has time to speak to his family. Let him 
 alone." 
 
 " Oh, don't you believe that," said Elise. "Why, 
 he's the most devoted man to his family I ever 
 saw. He allows them to impose on him right and 
 left. It's perfectly grand to see how patient he is. 
 And look at that child's clothes ; see what a misfit 
 they are." 
 
 "It's the fashion, I reckon," responded Mr. 
 Sanders. 
 
 Elise laughed merrily. " The fashion ! why, 
 the world never saw such a fashion as that." 
 
 " Well, a President and his family don't have 
 to be in the fashion. When it comes to that, 
 
 201 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 they're mighty nigh as independent as me, I 
 reckon." 
 
 The President heard Elise Clopton laugh, and 
 seeing Bethune and Mr. Sanders with her, joined 
 the group, Tad following with his horned team. 
 
 "You seem to be worried this morning, Mr. 
 Lincoln," said Elise, with one of her brightest 
 smiles. 
 
 "Yes; we all have to worry about something, 
 at some time or other," replied the President. 
 " There's a man down in Tennessee they are try. 
 ing to hang because he wandered off from camp 
 one night, and his mother's at this end of the line 
 crying her eyes out. I've spent half the morning 
 trying to get a despatch to the officer in command. 
 Before they hang or shoot the boy I want to see 
 the record. But it's all right now," he said with a 
 sigh. 
 
 They walked a little while in silence. Finally 
 Mr. Lincoln turned to Mr. Sanders. " Does your 
 President have much opposition ? " 
 
 " Not among them that he can get his hands on. 
 But Joe Brown is after him with a sharp stick, and 
 Bob Toombs rares around, and they manage to 
 keep the water warm, if not a-b'iiin'. The states' 
 rights plaster does purty well when you slap it on 
 some un else, but when the other feller slaps one 
 onto you, it burns like fire." 
 
 202 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 " How is that ? " Mr. Lincoln asked, his eyes 
 fairly dancing with amusement. 
 
 " Well, Jeff Davis was put in to slap the states' 
 rights plaster onto you-all, an' now he can't hardly 
 git a law passed but what Joe Brown bobs up wi* 
 a states' rights plaster an' slaps it onto Mr. 
 Davis." Mr. Lincoln roared with laughter. " I 
 don't think it's fair," Mr. Sanders went on, "but 
 some of the boys apperiently git a good deal of fun 
 out'n it." i* 
 
 The President's unrestrained laughter attracted 
 the attention of Tad, who left his goats to the 
 temporary care of Elise and went running to 
 Mr. Sanders. "I wish you'd stay here all the 
 time," he said in a pleading tone. 
 
 "What for, I'd like to know?" inquired Mr. 
 Sanders, lifting the lad in his strong arms. 
 
 " Because you make papa laugh," replied Tad. 
 "He laughs that way with me sometimes, but I 
 want to hear him laugh that way when he's with 
 grown people." 
 
 " That puts me in mind of the little chap that 
 wanted a candy elephant," said Mr. Sanders. 
 " He worried about it so till his pappy sent off and 
 bought a dollar's worth of sugar, an' his mammy 
 put it in the preserve kettle, poured in a couple of 
 gourdfuls of water, an' stewed it down, an' then, 
 after so long a time, took it out, pulled it the best 
 
 203 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 she could, an' then built it up into some kind of 
 animal that a blind man might take to be a rough 
 imitation of a wooden elephant. Then she called 
 in the little chap an' turned the elephant over to 
 him. Well, he took this elephant out to the wood- 
 shed an' started in on him, but he hadn't gnawed 
 his way no furder than one of the hind legs till 
 he was the sickest boy you ever saw ; an' after 
 that he'd turn pale and cry if anybody so much as 
 said ' candy elephant ' to him." 
 
 " And no wonder ! " exclaimed Tad. 
 
 "That's a fact," responded Mr. Sanders; "no 
 wonder. An' I wouldn't be here a week before, 
 your pappy would pull out his hankcher an* cry 
 if he so much as heard the name of Sanders." 
 
 " Would you ? " cried Tad, turning to his f atli^r. 
 
 "Why, certainly not," replied the President. 
 Satisfied, the lad slipped from Mr. Sanders's arms 
 and went skipping to his goats. " I'll tell you the 
 truth, my friend," Mr. Lincoln went on, laying a 
 familiar hand on Mr. Sanders's shoulder, "you 
 have no idea what a joyous relief it is to meet 
 a man who knows how to say things, and who 
 doesn't want a post-office for himself, or his wife's 
 cousin, or who doesn't want to take command of 
 all the armies in the field, or take entire charge of 
 the Government, or who hasn't some complaint to 
 make, or some objection to offer why, it's like 
 
 204 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 seeing the sun again after a couple of months of 
 rainy weather." 
 
 " I reckon it's wuss now than ever before," re- 
 marked Mr. Sanders. They were walking along 
 together, Bethune having lagged behind, intent on 
 his own reflections. 
 
 " Yes, I reckon it is," said Mr. Lincoln. " If it 
 wasn't for Stanton, who likes to have his hand in 
 everything, I don't know what I'd do. He can 
 stand up to more hard work and worry than any 
 man I ever saw. Now, if you had a machine full 
 of intelligence that was greedy for all the work 
 you could pour into the hopper, you wouldn't mind 
 it much if it pinched your fingers once in a while, 
 or took off a finger-nail now and then, would you ? " 
 
 " I jest reckon not," responded Mr. Sanders, 
 with emphasis. 
 
 "Well, that is the reason I take no offence 
 when Stanton cusses me out behind my back, or 
 when he cuts up his capers before my face." 
 
 " I see," said Mr. Sanders. " When you want 
 to bluff some feller that's a little too smart, you 
 fetch out Stanton. It puts me in mind, in some 
 ways, of Roach's race-hoss." 
 
 " How was that ? " Mr. Lincoln inquired. 
 
 "Why, there was a young chap in our settle- 
 ment by the name of Waters, an' he had a quarter- 
 boss that he vowed an' declared: could outrun any* 
 205 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 thing on four legs, includin' a steam engine. Well, 
 he bragged about his hoss and went on so that 
 one day old man Johnny Roach, who had about a 
 thimbleful too much of dram, up'd and said he had 
 a racer that could beat Waters's hoss so fur that 
 he'd turn an' meet him halfway comin' back. 
 Waters bantered him for a bet an' a trial, an' he 
 got both. They set the day, an' when the time 
 come Waters was there with his pony, an' pres- 
 ently Uncle Johnny's youngest boy come gallopin' 
 up on a steer. 
 
 " Now, ev'rybody in the county know'd the steer. 
 He was old as the hills, but he was game, an' his 
 horns was a plum cur'osity. From the p'int of 
 one to the p'int of t'other was mighty nigh nine 
 feet, an' he had a way of shakin' 'em that made 
 folks stan' 'roun'. 
 
 " Waters began to take water right off. Says 
 he, ' That ain't no hoss.' 
 
 "'I never said he was a hoss,' says old man 
 Johnny; 'I said he was a racer.' 
 
 " ' Well, he ain't no racer,' says Waters. 
 
 " 'That's yit to be decided,' says Johnny Roach. 
 'The money's up,' says he, ' an' I'm gwine to walk 
 off wi' it' 
 
 "Waters hummed and hawed, but it didn't do 
 no good. ' Git ready ! ' says old man Roach. 
 'Some of you men give the word.' 
 
 206 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 " ' Well,' says Waters, ' I dunner whether your 
 steer can run or not ; beat or git beat, he's liable 
 to do some damage, an' I'll not run my hoss ag'in 
 him.' 
 
 " So Roach's boy rode the steer over the course, 
 an' old man Johnny poled off home with the stakes 
 in his pocket." 
 
 Mr. Lincoln seemed to enjoy this anecdote very 
 much. He said there was a very pungent moral 
 in it which could be given a variety of applications, 
 and he forthwith added it to his already large col- 
 lection of stories. 
 
 All this while Bethune was wandering about the 
 lawn with head hung down like a boy with the 
 pouts. He was thinking hard, and his thoughts 
 were not pleasant ones. Nan Dorrington gazed 
 at him through the mists of memory with sad eyes. 
 Of the many familiar faces he could remember, 
 only one seemed to wear a smile and that was 
 the face of Miss Puella Gillum. Bethune came to 
 Washington, it will be remembered, to seize and 
 carry off the President. He had, in fact, hit upon 
 the only plan which was in the least likely to para- 
 lyse the North, bring about peace, and establish 
 the Confederacy. Though the Georgian was a 
 young man, he had tolerably fair judgment ; and 
 he had already seen that this patient, kindly man, 
 with the bright smile and sad eyes, with Melan- 
 207 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 choly at one elbow and Mirth at the other, was the 
 sole mainstay and reliance of the vast machine 
 that was carrying on the war; that but for his pre- 
 vision and tact, the halls of the Capitol and the 
 corridors of the departments would swarm with 
 relentless and ruinous factions. 
 
 It was true that Bethune's head was full of 
 romantic notions. He had descended from a chiv- 
 alrous race, and had been reared in a region where 
 chivalry and knightly courtesy were very real 
 things to those who aspired to them, and he now 
 felt himself pulled about by conflicting emotions. 
 He was keen to perform some feat or accomplish 
 some result that would advance the Southern 
 cause, and here was the opportunity. And yet 
 the bare idea of carrying it out left a bad taste 
 in his mouth. He was at war with himself. He 
 felt, in a dim, vague way, that the President was 
 the heart of a mystery, the centre of a wonderful 
 problem. As in an old picture, a light from some 
 unseen source appeared to fall on the worn face of 
 this man, who, born with " the wolf at the door " 
 and in the most abject surroundings, had been 
 lifted up to guide the nation. 
 
 Bethune had been so wrapped up in his own 
 reflections that his Aunt Elise could hardly make 
 him hear when she called him. He lifted his 
 head and sighed, and then a frown fell an his face 
 
 208 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 as he realised that she was speaking to him. Her 
 frivolity irritated him, her gushing volubility op- 
 pressed him. 
 
 " Frank ! oh, Frank ! " she called, laughing ; 
 "pray stop thinking about your sweetheart, and 
 come with me. The President told me I was not 
 to go outside the gates. But I'm going now just 
 to see what he'll say. Won't you come with 
 me ? " 
 
 For answer Bethune turned sharply away from 
 his aunt. She ran after him. " Don't be so cross, 
 Frank ! " she cried. " It's not becoming to you. 
 I wasn't going at all. Do be pleasant. You and 
 old Billy Sanders, between you, will cause the 
 people here to think I have no standing in my 
 own family. Both of you are very rude. What 
 have I done to deserve it ? " 
 
 This last remark was spoken with some show 
 of temper, for the beautiful Elise could be spiteful 
 at times. 
 
 " Nothing, Aunt Elise," replied Bethune ; " but 
 in your position a little more dignity would be 
 suitable." 
 
 Elise laughed loudly, but her face was red with 
 indignation. " A professor of etiquette ! " she 
 cried. " Before you try to teach me etiquette, 
 nephew, do you learn to, be polite and agreeable." 
 
 Mr. Lincoln, talking with Mr. Sanders some 
 209 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 distance away, noticed by the actions of Bethune 
 and his aunt that something was wrong. " What's 
 the matter with our young friends?" he asked. 
 " They seem to be quarrelling." 
 
 "Well, it's a family fuss, I reckon," replied Mr. 
 Sanders. " Frank was never fond of Leese, nor 
 she of him." 
 
 "The lady seems to be somewhat flighty," re- 
 marked the President, "but I've remarked the 
 symptoms in so many charming women that I 
 rarely notice it now." 
 
 Mr. Sanders pursed his lips as a country 
 lawyer does when he is about to make some re- 
 mark which he thinks is unusually profound. 
 " Leese is about as good as the common run, I 
 reckon. She's not nigh as flighty as she looks to 
 be. A right smart of it is put on, same as her 
 clothes. When you come to know her, she's got 
 lots of good p'ints. Wi' all her gabble she never 
 tells all she knows. I don't like her much, but I 
 dunno but what that's my fault." 
 
 " Likely enough it is," said the President 
 "I've had a great opportunity to find out what 
 people think of me ; nine out of ten misjudge or 
 misunderstand my words, my actions, and my 
 motives. You should be President for a little 
 while, friend Sanders, just for the fun of the 
 thing." 
 
 210 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 " Me ! " exclaimed Mr. Sanders ; " would I have 
 to have a Secretary of War ? " 
 
 " Why, certainly ; that's a part of the game." 
 
 " Well, you'll have to excuse me. I don't mind 
 takin' a turn at checkers, or marbles, or mumble- 
 peg, but that's about the limit of my appetite. 
 No, sir! no playin' President for me if there's a 
 Secretary of War in the game. I may have to 
 tousle your'n before I leave this town ; if I do, an' 
 it don't hurt your feelin's too much, I aim to make 
 a clean, healthy job of it." 
 
 Mr. Lincoln laughed and excused himself. A 
 great many people had passed them by, going to 
 the White House, some on business, some moved 
 by curiosity, and some impelled by interest and 
 sympathy. 
 
 "It takes a heap of people to make a world, 
 friend Sanders," said the President, as he turned 
 away, "and I must go and examine some more of 
 the specimens. When you get ready to come in, 
 Miss Brandon I mean Mrs. Clopton will show 
 you how to avoid the crowd. I hope," he said, 
 pausing again, "that you'll take dinner with us. 
 Maybe you'd prefer to call it supper." 
 
 " About what time, Mr. President ? " 
 
 "Early candlelight," replied Mr. Lincoln, with 
 a twinkle in his eye. The phrase was so familiar 
 that the Georgian took it as a matter of course. 
 
 211 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 " Any gal company ? " inquired Mr. Sanders. 
 
 " No, I think not. Mrs. Lincoln will have some 
 of her friends to dine with her, and we can have 
 a snug little dinner of our own. We'll have a 
 member of Congress who was in Georgia once 
 upon a time, and Stanton threatens to come, 
 too." 
 
 " Well, I dunno about Frank Bethune, but none 
 of 'em can turn my stomach." 
 
 " Stanton says he wants to discover whether you 
 are fish, flesh, or fowl," remarked the President, 
 smiling. 
 
 "Jest tell him I'm a plain old snappin'-turtle 
 from Georgia, wi' red eyes and cold feet." Mr. 
 Lincoln turned away laughing, and Mr. Sanders 
 was left alone until little Tad came along driving 
 his goats. He fell into conversation with Mr. 
 Sanders, and the talk was so interesting to both 
 of them that they sat flat on the grass. They 
 went from one subject to another until Mr. San- 
 ders, who was a famous hand with young ones, 
 landed Tad in the midst of that wonderful collec- 
 tion of animal stories with which Southern chil- 
 dren have been familiar for many generations. 
 The old Georgian told them so simply, and with 
 such apparent confidence in their reality, that the 
 little son of the President accepted them as facts 
 and was, for the time being, in another world 
 
 212 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 the world that had been created by the negro 
 romancers who lived long ago. 
 
 Great statesmen passed and repassed them as 
 they sat or lay reclining on the grass ; Generals 
 of the army, Congressmen, civilians, office-seekers, 
 a curious and motley throng, formed part of the 
 procession, but, so far as Mr. Sanders and Tad 
 were concerned, they were all phantoms, invisible 
 to the eye. 
 
 Bethune and his aunt were soon on good terms 
 again, and they made their way slowly back 
 to the White House, evidently thinking that Mr. 
 Sanders had gone in. Presently a servant came 
 out, hunting for Tad. 
 
 "We have been searching for you everywhere," 
 the man said. "Your lunch is ready." 
 
 "Lunch!" cried Tad. He had been brought 
 out of fableland so suddenly that he could hardly 
 realise his surroundings. " Won't you come ? " he 
 said to Mr. Sanders with appealing eyes. " Please ! 
 oh, please come ! " 
 
 " No ; I reckon I better wait for you out here, 
 or in the pen where they put the office-hunters," 
 said Mr. Sanders. 
 
 " We have some extra fine soup, sir," remarked 
 the servant, by way of a suggestion. 
 
 When Mr. Sanders had been made perfectly 
 sure that whatever pleased the child would be 
 213 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 pleasing to his father and mother, he took Tad's 
 hand, and together they went to the children's 
 lunch-room. It is doubtful if Tad ever had another 
 such day. The fun (for him) began when he made 
 a somewhat riotous protest against a bib. 
 
 " Don't you wear 'em ? " inquired Mr. Sanders 
 in tones of surprise. "Well, I allers do." He 
 turned to the waiter. " I wisht you'd pin one 
 around my neck. I don't feel right wi'out 'em." 
 
 Then, with the napkin on, he made believe to 
 be a little boy, and he carried out the pretence so 
 solemnly that Tad fairly screamed with laughter. 
 In fact, the youngster reached the point where 
 he'd laugh almost to exhaustion every time Mr. San- 
 ders looked at him. Mrs. Lincoln, hearing this 
 unusual sound, left her guests for a moment and 
 peeped in the door. For an instant she couldn't 
 realise the situation. Mr. Sanders was saying, 
 " What's your name ? " and Tad was telling him. 
 To which the reply was, "Well, I'm named little 
 Billy, an' I want some syrup in my plate so I can 
 sop it." As Tad could say nothing for laughing, 
 Mr. Sanders went on : 
 
 " One time I was eatin' a chicken gizzard an' I 
 got to laughin', an* the fust thing anybody know'd 
 the gizzard was stuck in my goozle. My mammy 
 seed I was chokin', an' she hit me a lick on the 
 back as hard as a mule can kick, an' the gizzard 
 
 214 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 flew out an' knocked the cruet-stand off'n the 
 table. This made me laugh, an' my mammy says, 
 1 Sposin' you'd 'a' been gnawin' on the whole 
 chicken, where'd you be now ? ' an' I says, 
 'Humph! you better ax where the chicken'd be.'" 
 
 This was too much for Tad. He slid out of his 
 chair and fell on the floor, where he fairly screamed 
 with laughter. The dignified waiter caught the 
 contagion somehow. He turned his back upon 
 the rest and leaned half bent against the wall, try* 
 ing to hold his sides with one arm. Mrs. Lincoln 
 ran back to relate the episode to her guests, and 
 in her efforts to tell of the scene she witnessed, her 
 laughter became uncontrollable, and pretty soon 
 she and her guests were in a state bordering on 
 the hysterical all except one, an elderly lady, the 
 wife of a Cabinet Minister", who sat looking from 
 one to the other with eyebrows lifted, and a coun- 
 tenance expressive of contempt. 
 
 This lady seized upon this unpropitious moment 
 to take her departure, and the gravity of her 
 demeanour as she bowed herself out was such as 
 to give new cause for laughter. The finishing 
 touch was given when Mrs. Lincoln, who had a 
 keen eye for the ridiculous, so far succeeded in 
 controlling her countenance as to give a swift 
 imitation of the solemn exit of the lady who had 
 retired. 
 
 215 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 This last incident, as free from malice as an 
 innocent caper of a schoolgirl, was duly reported 
 to the Cabinet Minister's wife, and that lady made 
 it her business from that time forth to spread 
 abroad hints of Mrs. Lincoln's " flightiness," and 
 out of these hints, so industriously planted, grew 
 the thousand and one fictions that were scattered 
 up and down the land in regard to the mental 
 condition of this bright lady of the White 
 House. 
 
 That evening at dinner, after Bethune and Mr. 
 Sanders had been introduced to Mr. Stanton and 
 to Congressman Hudspeth, Mr. Lincoln referred to 
 Tad's enjoyable luncheon, an enthusiastic account 
 of which the lad had already given his father. 
 Mr. Sanders made some humorous remarks on 
 the subject of amusing children. For a time the 
 talk was wholly between these two. Mr. Stanton 
 seemed to be absorbed, though he watched the 
 two Southerners very closely, while Hudspeth's 
 thoughts appeared to be far afield. Finally, Mr. 
 Sanders turned to Mr. Hudspeth and asked him 
 if he had ever been in Georgia. 
 
 " Yes ; I had some peculiar as well as some very 
 pleasant experiences there." 
 
 " I allowed I'd met you there ; you lived wi' 
 Addison Abercrombie," remarked Mr. Sanders. 
 " You needn't be ashamed of it," he went on, " for 
 216 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 Mr. Seward was a school-teacher down in that 
 neighbourhood years ago." 
 
 " Well, I wonder ! " exclaimed Mr. Lincoln. 
 "Stanton, the Governor has never told us about 
 that. Well, well ! " 
 
 " I mind him well," Mr. Sanders continued. 
 " He was thin as a rail, wi' a big nose, an' his 
 Adam's apple stuck out like a potleg. He had 
 red hair an' a freckled face." 
 
 Mr. Hudspeth asked about little Crotchet, who 
 was dead, and about Aaron, the Arab, in regard to 
 whom Mr. Sanders volunteered the information 
 that he now owned the Abercrombie place. 
 
 " What nonsense ! " exclaimed Mr. Stanton, 
 almost angrily. 
 
 " I mean, sir," exclaimed Mr. Sanders with a 
 deprecatory gesture, " that Aaron is by the Aber- 
 crombie place like some folks I've seen are about 
 the Government. He thinks he owns it, an' he 
 don't ; they think they're runnin' the Government, 
 an' they ain't." 
 
 Mr. Stanton swelled up like a gobbler, as Mr. San- 
 ders described it afterward, but Mr. Lincoln came 
 to the rescue. Laughing heartily, he cried : 
 
 " A fair hit, friend Sanders ! You've touched 
 my weak point. I reckon I do put on too many 
 airs." 
 
 Mr. Sanders had a remark ready, but he felt 
 217 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 his foot pressed and he held his peace. At that 
 moment Mr. Stanton addressed him. 
 
 " Who gave you a commission to come here ? " 
 
 " A fellow named Doyle." It was Bethune who 
 answered, and not Mr. Sanders. " Doyle gave me 
 a pass from Mr. Lincoln. I regarded it as an invi- 
 tation." 
 
 " And so it was," said Mr. Lincoln. 
 
 "Who invited you ?" inquired the Secretary, 
 turning his spectacles on Mr. Sanders. 
 
 " Well, I'm like the stranger at the infair. The 
 folks saw him hangin* 'roun' the door, an' some 
 on 'em axed him what he was doin' there, an' he 
 said, says he, ' I heard the fiddlin' an' the shufflin', 
 an' smelt the dram, an' I jest thought I'd look on 
 an' see well done done well.' " 
 
 " Well, you may say that you had an invitation, 
 too," remarked Mr. Lincoln. " I wouldn't have 
 missed knowing you for a good deal." 
 
 " I can vouch for that," said Mr. Stanton, ironi- 
 cally. 
 
 " If you can, Mr. Secretary, so much the better," 
 Mr. Lincoln declared, with some emphasis. " But 
 these gentlemen are my guests. If they are to be 
 catechised and cross-examined, I'm the one to do 
 it." 
 
 " But will you ? " inquired the Secretary, eagerly. 
 
 " No, I won't," replied the President. 
 218 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 " Why, Mr. President," cried Mr. Sanders, " he 
 don't pester us one grain." 
 
 " Mr. President, I have just one more question 
 to ask," said the Secretary. 
 
 " Fire away ! " exclaimed Mr. Sanders. 
 
 " Did the man Doyle give you a despatch to be 
 delivered at the War Department ? " 
 
 " He did," replied Bethune. " I suspected that 
 it was a trap laid for us, opened it, and had it 
 deciphered. I kept a copy of the translation, and 
 will now take occasion to present it to the Presi- 
 dent, so that he may see how the lives of human 
 beings are trafficked in by those who desire to win 
 Mr. Stanton's favour. We fell into the hands o' a 
 man named Awtry, but we insisted that he should 
 bring us to the President." 
 
 He handed the copy of the despatch to Mr. Lin- 
 coln, who read it, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. 
 Then he turned to Bethune, and regarded him 
 with a half-humorous, half-melancholy, but wholly 
 attractive smile. 
 
 "May I see this extraordinary despatch, Mr. 
 President ? " asked the Secretary, holding out his 
 hand for it. 
 
 " You have no objections?" the President nodded 
 to Bethune. 
 
 " None in the world, Mr. President," was the 
 calm and confident reply. 
 219 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 *' Well, anyhow, I reckon I'd better put it in my 
 pocket," said Mr. Lincoln, in his slow, deliberate 
 way. "It might worry you, Stanton, and it's a 
 matter too trifling for you to be worried about. 
 No, I'll take charge of it myself." 
 
 With that he folded the copy carefully and 
 placed it in an old morocco pocketbook. He was 
 absorbed in thought a moment or two, drumming 
 on the table with his fingers. Then he lifted his 
 head and laughed, remarking, " It reminds me of 
 a story I heard " 
 
 " Good night, Mr. President ! Good night, Hud- 
 speth ! " exclaimed the Secretary, sharply, as he 
 arose from the table. "You two," he said, indi- 
 cating Bethune and Mr. Sanders, " will hear from 
 me again." 
 
 " My post-office is Salem, Injianny," remarked 
 Mr. Sanders, in his matter-of-fact way. 
 
 This was too much for Mr. Lincoln, who laughed 
 uproariously as Stanton stalked out. But he sud- 
 denly grew grave again. "I'm always forgetting 
 my dignity," he declared. " Stanton is angry, and 
 he has a right to be. But if he had seen this 
 affair " tapping his pocket " he'd have half a 
 regiment on guard here, and he'd keep it up until 
 I went out and dismissed 'em, as a country show- 
 man dismisses his audience." 
 
 Congressman Hudspeth had a good many ques- 
 220 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 tions to ask about old acquaintances, and he and 
 Mr. Sanders were soon engaged in a friendly dis- 
 cussion over the rights and the wrongs of the war. 
 It was a discussion altogether useless, a fact to 
 which the President called attention, with the re- 
 sult of putting an end to it. Shortly afterward 
 Mr. Hudspeth, he being a prominent member of 
 the military committee, excused himself and retired, 
 and Bethune and Mr. Sanders soon followed his 
 example. 
 
 " I'd ask you to sit up with me awhile," said the 
 President, " but I'll have a busy night of it. Come 
 to-morrow night about ten. We must talk about 
 your trip South. Miss Brandon, as she calls her- 
 self, is very particular, and we must try and meet 
 her views." 
 
 " You leave her to me, Mr. President," remarked 
 Mr. Sanders, suggestively. 
 
 " Gladly, gladly, my friend ! " exclaimed Mr. 
 Lincoln, so heartily that Mr. Sanders was com- 
 pelled to laugh, and even Bethune smiled. 
 
 Curiously enough, neither of the Southerners, as 
 they returned to their apartments, spoke of the 
 scheme which had originally brought them to 
 Washington. Each was anxious that the other 
 should make a suggestion to abandon it altogether, 
 while each, for reasons that will be clear to every 
 masculine mind, hesitated about making such a 
 
 221 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 suggestion. Thus it was that neither mentioned 
 the plan in any shape or form that night or the 
 next day. It was a queer situation, and it was 
 altogether characteristic that Bethune should 
 worry over its embarrassments while Mr. San- 
 ders was inwardly chuckling over its humorous 
 features. 
 
 It was not until they were about to leave the 
 hotel at the hour agreed upon that a word was 
 said on the subject. 
 
 " I reckon you're feelin' a little nervous, Frank," 
 suggested Mr. Sanders. 
 
 " Not more than you, I venture," replied Bethune, 
 calmly. 
 
 As Mr. Sanders had expected a somewhat differ- 
 ent reply, he merely pursed his lips as though he 
 were going to whistle, and said no more. 
 
 The carriage was at the door, and Bethune and 
 Mr. Sanders were driven swiftly to the White 
 House. The two Southerners found Mr. Lincoln 
 in high good humour. He welcomed them in 
 the heartiest manner, slapping Mr. Sanders on the 
 back and displaying in the most unaffected manner 
 his delight at seeing his "two friends from Georgia," 
 as he called them. 
 
 '* You must have heard good news, Mr. Presi- 
 dent," suggested Bethune. 
 
 " Well, if I had, I wouldn't tell you fellows ; it 
 
 222 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 would be bad news to you. But, as an old friend 
 of mine used to say, ' No news is good news,' and 
 when there's no fuss in the family, and no quarrel 
 about a fence line, and the cow is giving down her 
 milk, and the hens are laying, the man who for- 
 gets to be happy will miss a mighty good chance." 
 
 "That's so," assented Mr. Sanders. 
 
 " By the way," said Mr. Lincoln, turning to 
 Bethune, " what put it into that man's head to 
 charge you fellows with plotting to kidnap the 
 President ? " 
 
 " Doyle, you mean ? Well, Mr. President, he 
 could as easily have charged us with plotting to 
 assassinate the President. I wonder he didn't, 
 since all he had to do was to choose the word," 
 replied Bethune. 
 
 "Well, when you two get back, what will you 
 do to this man ? " asked Mr. Lincoln. 
 
 " Why, we are in hopes his case will be attended 
 to before we lay eyes on him again," was the 
 answer. 
 
 " Is that so ? " exclaimed Mr. Lincoln, sitting 
 bolt upright. Then he laughed lightly, and leaned 
 back again, throwing one of his long legs over the 
 arm of his chair. " Well, don't be too hard on 
 him." 
 
 The President, leaning back with his hands 
 behind his head, gazed at the ceiling in silence 
 
 223 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 for some time, apparently in a profound study 
 Then he laughed aloud at some amusing thought, 
 and once more sat upright in his chair. 
 
 " Now, about this kidnapping business," he re- 
 marked. "Do you think it would be an easy 
 matter to kidnap the President ? " 
 
 Mr. Sanders gave a gasp of surprise as he 
 turned in his seat 
 
 " Mr. President," said Bethune, leaning forward 
 and speaking in grave, measured accents, " Mr. 
 President, it would be the easiest thing in the 
 world." 
 
 " What time is it ? " asked Mr. Lincoln. 
 
 "About half after ten," replied Mr. Sanders, 
 consulting his silver watch, which was as big as a 
 biscuit, and weighed about half a pound. 
 
 "Well, Stanton is to be here about half -past 
 eleven, and he usually comes ahead of time. Now, 
 what I want you to do," Mr. Lincoln went on with 
 some eagerness, "is to show me how that kidnap- 
 ping business could be carried out. Let's suppose 
 a case, what we lawyers call a hypothetical case. 
 Let's take it for granted that, in the performance 
 of your duty, as you look at it, you had concluded 
 that the easiest way to achieve what you call your 
 independence, is to seize the President and carry 
 him South. Then let us suppose that matters had 
 fallen out pretty much as they have. Here you 
 
 224 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 are, two quick-witted Confederates ; now show me 
 how the kidnapping could be carried out." 
 
 " But, Mr. President," exclaimed Bethune, " that 
 is precisely " 
 
 Mr. Lincoln stopped him. " I know I know ! " 
 he cried, and his voice overbore that of Bethune. 
 Know ! what did he know ? " I know how you 
 feel about it; but this is purely a hypothetical 
 case. I am supposed to be taken unawares." 
 
 Both Bethune and Mr. Sanders had arisen from 
 their chairs, partly to conceal their excitement and 
 partly to seize what seemed to be a providential 
 opportunity. The event had, as it were, been taken 
 out of their hands. They seemed to have no 
 choice in the matter. 
 
 "Well, Mr. President, supposing that we had 
 come here on such a mission," said Bethune, "it 
 would probably be carried out in this way, making 
 due allowances for emergencies." He went to the 
 inner door and looked in. Then he went to the 
 outer door and looked out into the wide entrance. 
 The moment was propitious. He returned, stood 
 by the President's chair, and then touched him 
 sharply on the shoulder. 
 
 " Mr. Lincoln, great emergencies sometimes call 
 
 for cruel remedies." Bethune's voice was grim in 
 
 its earnestness. " We are two Confederates. You 
 
 are our prisoner. Make no outcry. Not a hair of 
 
 225 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 your head shall be harmed if you obey instructions. 
 The situation is desperate for us, but it is more 
 desperate for you." 
 
 The President looked into Bethune's eyes and 
 seemed to understand the situation. " Well, you'd 
 certainly make a fine actor," he remarked. 
 
 " Come, Mr. President ; we have not a moment 
 to lose," said Bethune. 
 
 " Let me get my hat," suggested the Presi- 
 dent. Having secured this, he said, " Some 
 sort of weapon is necessary where force is 
 talked of." 
 
 " What is this ? " asked Bethune, holding up a 
 pistol. 
 
 " And this ? " said Mr. Sanders, holding up its 
 mate. 
 
 " The argument is concluded and the witness is 
 Vvith you," remarked Mr. Lincoln with a chuckle. 
 Then he added : " But kidnapping can't be carried 
 on on foot. I'm a pretty good walker, but if I 
 was to take the studs and lie down in the road, 
 you'd have some trouble." 
 
 " The carriage waits, Mr. Lincoln," replied 
 Bethune, grimly. " Remember, you are supposed 
 to be going of your own accord." 
 
 " By jing ! " exclaimed the President ; " I reckon 
 this is what the play-actors call a full-dress 
 rehearsal" 
 
 226 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 He went forward very cheerfully, however. 
 When they came to the carriage the President 
 entered first, Bethune following. Mr. Sanders 
 mounted to the driver's seat. 
 
 " Where are you, Sanders ? " inquired Mr. 
 Lincoln. 
 
 "I'm goin* to take the air," Mr. Sanders re- 
 plied. 
 
 " Well, here, swap hats with me. I can't wear 
 mine in here unless we cut a hole in the roof." 
 
 Mr. Lincoln leaned from the window and passed 
 his tall hat up to Mr. Sanders, and received in 
 return the soft felt hat that Mr. Sanders wore. 
 
 The carriage turned into the street and went 
 whistling away in the direction arranged by John 
 Omahundro. 
 
 " Which way are we going ? " the President 
 asked. 
 
 "I couldn't say, Mr. President; I'm not familiar 
 with this part of the country." 
 
 Mr. Lincoln said nothing more for some little 
 time. Then, " Don't you think this affair is 
 getting to be a little too natural ? " he sug- 
 gested. 
 
 " I had some such idea, Mr. President," replied 
 Bethune. 
 
 " I was thinking," said Mr. Lincoln, " that if 
 Stanton should come to the White House, and 
 227 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 find me gone, and begin to inquire about I was 
 just thinking what would happen to that kins- 
 woman of yours." 
 
 "Well, he would have to reckon with Mrs. 
 Lincoln," replied Bethune. 
 
 "That's so," assented the President with a 
 chuckle. "Stanton is not much of a favourite 
 with any of the family except me. But if Mrs. 
 Lincoln should take alarm, then there would be 
 trouble for the Southern lady." 
 
 This was a new phase of the affair. But 
 Bethune felt that Providence or Fate had tied his 
 hands. He could do nothing. They went for- 
 ward rapidly for two or three miles. Then they 
 heard a protesting voice : 
 
 " Hold on there, will you ! Hain't you got no 
 eyes in your blamed noggin ? I lay if I take a 
 rock an' knock you off'n that barouche you'll think 
 you saw somethin'." 
 
 There was a light wagon in the road to which 
 a couple of horses were hitched. The driver of 
 Bethune's carriage stopped his team, handed the 
 reins to Mr. Sanders, and joined the complaining 
 person, who was no other than John Omahundro, 
 in the road. 
 
 " Wait ! " said the latter in a low tone. He put 
 his hand to his ear and listened. " I hear a cavalry 
 squad coming. Jump in the carriage, turn around 
 
 228 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 there's plenty of room here and drive back the 
 way you came." 
 
 " Any danger for me ? " asked driver. 
 
 " Not a bit in the world," responded Omahundro. 
 " Get a move on you ; you want the cavalry to meet 
 you with your horses' heads turned toward town." 
 
 No time was lost in making this movement. 
 The driver put the lash to the horses as they were 
 making the turn, and when they met the squad of 
 pursuing cavalry the carriage was moving toward 
 the city at a brisk trot. 
 
 " Halt ! " cried a commanding voice. 
 
 "Well, if you know'd who you was haltin', 
 maybe you wouldn't be so uppity," exclaimed Mr. 
 Sanders. 
 
 The Captain, making out the outline of Mr. Lin- 
 coln's hat, which the genial Georgian was wearing, 
 cried out, " Is that you, Mr. President ? " 
 
 For answer, Mr. Lincoln leaned his head from 
 the window and said, "Yes, it's me; what's the 
 trouble ? Any bad news from the front ? Speak 
 out, my man. I'm used to trouble. You seem to 
 be excited ; what is it ? " 
 
 " Why, Mr. President, Mr. Stanton is at the 
 White House in a great state of alarm. He thinks 
 you have been seized and carried off. He gave 
 me orders to take ten men, pursue the carriage, 
 and overtake it at all hazards." 
 229 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 " What then ? " asked Mr. Lincoln. 
 
 " He took me aside, Mr. President," explained 
 the Captain, " and said, ' When you catch those 
 villains, let your patriotism dictate your course.' " 
 
 "Well, what does your patriotism dictate?" 
 asked Mr. Lincoln, dryly. 
 
 " I am under your orders, Mr. President. If 
 you have none to give, I will have the honour of 
 escorting you to the White House." 
 
 " It is unnecessary," replied Mr. Lincoln. " Ride 
 on ahead, and when you arrive at the White 
 House, tell Secretary Stanton to disband his 
 forces, horse, foot, and dragoons, take down the 
 barricades, and permit my friends and myself to 
 enter on the terms that have always existed." 
 
 The officer saluted in the dark and was about 
 to give the necessary orders, when Mr. Lincoln 
 again spoke. " What time is it ? " 
 
 The officer struck a match and looked at his 
 watch. 
 
 " Ten-fifty, Mr. President." 
 
 " Thank you. The Secretary was a notch or 
 two ahead of time," Mr. Lincoln remarked. 
 
 "Yes, Mr. President. A man named Doyle 
 arrived from the South to-night, and informed 
 the Secretary that two rebels " 
 
 " You mean Confederates, I reckon, Captain," 
 suggested Mr. Lincoln. 
 
 230 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 "Yes, Mr. President, two Confederates had 
 come to Washington for the purpose of kidnapping 
 you. When he described the men, the Secretary 
 made haste to the White House, summoning me 
 as he went. When he arrived there and found 
 you had gone off with the very men accused by 
 Doyle, you may imagine his excitement." 
 
 " Yes ; I'm mighty glad I wasn't there. Well, 
 Captain, you have acted with commendable energy, 
 and I am under obligations to you. Call on me 
 some day at the White House. I want to have a 
 talk with you." 
 
 "Thank you, Mr! President; I have simply 
 done my duty." He wheeled his horse, gave a 
 curt order to his detachment, and the small caval- 
 cade was soon clattering toward the White House, 
 where, in no long time, the Captain reported to 
 the Secretary, who was still in a fury of rage and 
 excitement. 
 
 "Did you seize the two spies? Where are 
 they?" he thundered. 
 
 "Under the circumstances, Mr. Secretary, I 
 could but obey the commands of the President." 
 
 " Remain here with your men," Mr. Stanton 
 said. Then, his fury getting the better of him, he 
 paced up and down the floor crying, " Oh, he will 
 ruin the country ! " 
 
 " Don't you think you had better restrain your- 
 231 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 self, Mr. Secretary ? " asked Mrs. Lincoln, who, 
 coming out of the state of alarm and apprehension 
 into which she had been thrown by the wild and 
 stormy excitement of Mr. Stanton, was now some- 
 what angry. 
 
 "Nothing but Providence has saved your hus- 
 band from those two spies and traitors that is, 
 if he is saved. They had everything planned to 
 carry him off to-night." 
 
 " I don't believe a word of it ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Lincoln. 
 
 " But every word is true, madam," declared 
 Doyle, who was sticking as close to the Secretary 
 as he dared. " They planned it in my presence in 
 Richmond." 
 
 "I don't know you," replied Mrs. Lincoln. 
 " What were you doing in Richmond ? " 
 
 "Serving my country to the best of my poor 
 ability, madam." 
 
 " As a spy ? " There was so much scorn in the 
 lady's voice that Doyle assumed a more chastened 
 attitude. 
 
 After a while the carriage drove up, and the 
 President, Bethune, and Mr. Sanders alighted. 
 Mr. Lincoln was in high glee. As the carriage 
 stopped, he was saying to Bethune, " You remem- 
 ber when I asked you if the affair wasn't getting 
 to be too natural, too real ? " 
 232 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 Bethune assented, but the President waited until 
 they were near the portico of the White House, 
 then he continued : 
 
 " Well, I remember it, too. It reminds me of 
 the fellow who set out to play ghost in his village. 
 He had tolerable success, until he happened to 
 run across a crabbed old fellow who had a good 
 deal of money out at interest. The ghost says : 
 'Squire Brown, you've got too much money. 
 What'll you do with it when you die ? ' Squire 
 Brown gripped his hickory, and says, 'You talk 
 lots too natural for a ghost,' and with that he lit in 
 and f railed the fellow out." 
 
 Bethune had no time to digest the moral which 
 might or might not be attached to this brief narra- 
 tive of a village incident. As the three walked 
 into the light, Secretary Stanton cried out with a 
 voice full of passion : 
 
 " Mr. President, I hope you are convinced that 
 I was correct in what I said about those detestable 
 spies. Captain Bird, do your duty ! " 
 
 But before the Captain could make a movement, 
 Mrs. Lincoln burst into a fit of uncontrollable 
 laughter, in which she was joined by all except 
 Mr. Stanton. Even the officer failed to maintain 
 his dignity. Mr. Lincoln, tall and lank, was wear- 
 ing Mr. Sanders's felt hat, which, slouched as it 
 was, gave him the aspect of a pirate. On the 
 233 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 other hand, Mr. Sanders was wearing Mr. Lin. 
 coin's tall beaver. It was tipped to one side a 
 trifle, and this, together with the fact that he wore 
 a bobtail jeans coat, added the last touch of the 
 comic to his rotund figure. Mr. Lincoln joined 
 in and led the laughter, and for several long 
 minutes the hilarity ran high, while Mr. Stanton 
 gazed with undisguised scorn and contempt upon 
 the scene. 
 
 Presently, taking advantage of a lull in the 
 laughter, he cried in harsh, commanding tones : 
 
 " Captain Bird, arrest those men ! " 
 
 ' Why, what have we done, Stanton ? " demanded 
 Mr. Lincoln. " What are we guilty of ? " 
 
 The Secretary, with an angry gesture, turned to 
 Doyle. 
 
 " Mr. President," said Doyle, " these men came 
 here to seize you and carry you off. I am willing to 
 make oath to that fact. But for the energy of 
 Secretary Stanton to-night, their plot would have 
 succeeded." 
 
 " What is your opinion, Captain Bird ? What 
 did you find when you came up with your detach- 
 ment ? " inquired Mr. Lincoln. 
 
 " Mr. President, we met the carriage on its way 
 to the White House, and in accordance with your 
 orders, hurried here in advance of it." 
 
 " My friend," said the President, turning to 
 234 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 Doyle, " if there was any plot to kidnap to-night, 
 I'm the guilty party." 
 
 "That's so, Mr. President," Mr. Sanders 
 solemnly asserted. "You not only took us off, 
 but you took my hat. It looked to me like mighty 
 squally times out there in the dark road, but, any- 
 how, I thank you kindly for fetching us back." 
 
 " Oh, you are more than welcome, friend San- 
 ders. There's another thing I want to say to you 
 gentlemen," remarked Mr. Lincoln, straightening 
 himself up ; " the less you say of this affair the 
 better. If it slips into the newspapers, I propose 
 to see that the public get the straight of it. One 
 thing more : these gentlemen here Mr. Bethune 
 and Mr. Sanders are in Washington by my invi- 
 tation ; they are my guests ; I am responsible for 
 their conduct here, and whoever interferes with 
 them will be held responsible by me. Captain Bird, 
 I thank you again for the energetic way in which 
 you carried out your orders. If the Secretary of 
 War has no more for you to-night, neither have I." 
 
 Mr. Stanton had retired in disgust to the inner 
 office, where the Captain sought him, returning in 
 a moment to bid the President good night and to 
 lead his squad of cavalry to their quarters. 
 
 Mr. Doyle stood where the Secretary had left 
 him, and his embarrassment was so plain that 
 Bethune, following one of his impulses, said : 
 235 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 "Mr. President, I think I can set Mr. Doyle 
 right, but before I do so I'd like to ask what 
 grudge he bears me." 
 
 "Grudge! I have no grudge against you," 
 Doyle asserted. 
 
 " Why did you try to use my own hand to 
 entrap me ? Why did you intrust me with a 
 despatch in which you committed me to the 
 gallows, not for the good of the country, but 
 for the advancement of yourself and your friend 
 Awtry ? " 
 
 " Why, I gave you no such despatch as that," 
 Doyle asserted. 
 
 " Well, the President has a copy of it," remarked 
 Bethune, dryly. Mr. Lincoln looked at Doyle with 
 a puzzled expression on his face. He seemed to 
 be studying the man. It was a very embarrassing 
 stare. 
 
 " What put the notion in your head," said the 
 President, turning to Bethune with something like 
 a sigh, " that the gentleman needed to be set right 
 with me?" 
 
 "It struck me, Mr. President, that you might 
 misunderstand him, considering all the circum- 
 stances," replied Bethune. 
 
 "No; I think I understand him perfectly." But 
 he still continued to regard Mr. Doyle with a puz- 
 zled, melancholy expression on his face. 
 
 236 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 "But if you will permit me to explain, Mr. 
 President," Bethune persisted. 
 
 But Mr. Lincoln shook his head and raised his 
 long arm in a protesting gesture. " No, not now ; 
 I'll have a talk with this gentleman at another 
 time. He must excuse me now. Bethune, you 
 and Mr. Sanders come into my private office." 
 
 He bowed to Doyle and went out. As Bethune 
 was following, Doyle caught him by the arm and 
 detained him. " What did you intend to say to 
 him ? " he asked. 
 
 " Why, I intended, and still intend to tell him 
 the simple truth," replied Bethune. 
 
 "That you came to kidnap him?" gasped 
 Doyle. 
 
 " Why, certainly. I don't want him to believe 
 that you are engaged in ensnaring men merely to 
 advance your own fortunes." 
 
 " Do you think I'd do the like for you ? " inquired 
 Doyle. 
 
 "Why, I never asked myself the question," re- 
 plied Bethune, regarding the man with a smile. 
 " I owe you no good will, but I owe it to myself to 
 be honest and straightforward. Now, answer me 
 this : why did you have men ready to follow me 
 out of Richmond ? " 
 
 Doyle hesitated, but finally spoke out : " I wanted 
 to make sure that you fell into the hands of the 
 
 237 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 right parties when you reached Washington. If L 
 had it to do over again, it wouldn't be done. And 
 I want to say to you that I'm glad I met you." 
 
 "Well, we have no time for compliments. Good 
 night" 
 
 Mr. Sanders was waiting for Bethune, and to- 
 gether they went into Mr. Lincoln's private office. 
 The President and Mr. Stanton were in the larger 
 room, and the tones of their voices, coming through 
 the door, showed that they were conversing as if 
 nothing unusual had occurred. Indeed, it seemed 
 that Mr. Stanton had been, for the moment, entirely 
 subdued. 
 
 Presently Mr. Lincoln came to the door. " San- 
 ders, you and Bethune come in here. I want you 
 to see that my Secretary of War is not always 
 ready to eat folks up." 
 
 Mr. Stanton greeted them in a friendly manner. 
 He had his glasses off for the moment, and for the 
 first time the two Southerners saw that in repose 
 his features were cast in a genial mould, and that 
 his eyes could command a kindly expression. 
 
 "Bethune," said the President, "what was that 
 explanation you wanted to make about Doyle ? 
 Mr. Stanton seems to appreciate his abilities. I 
 don't know how able he is, but that last part of his 
 despatch doesn't sound nice to me. Mr. Stanton 
 agrees with me about this, but he says the first 
 
 238 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 part is correct." The copy of the despatch lay 
 open on the table between the President and the 
 Secretary. 
 
 "Mr. President, after what has happened to-night, 
 taking everything as it occurred, I feel sure that 
 you'll not misunderstand my motives when I say 
 to you that the first part of Mr. Doyle's despatch 
 is correct." Bethune's tone was quiet, but firm. 
 
 " I told you so," remarked Mr. Stanton, with 
 emphasis. 
 
 " Well, then, why didn't you carry out your plan 
 to-night ? " 
 
 " They had a very good reason," exclaimed the 
 Secretary of War. 
 
 "Mr. President," said Mr. Sanders, suddenly 
 and emphatically, "there ain't enough cavalry in 
 fifty mile of this town to 'a' kept us from carryin' 
 you off to-night. You know where we turned 
 around ? Well, right there was a light wagon, an' 
 all we had to do was to hustle you in it. The 
 man a-drivin' it knows ev'ry foot of ground betwixt 
 here an' Richmond." 
 
 " No doubt," said Mr. Lincoln ; " but why didn't 
 you take advantage of all this ? " 
 
 " Mr. President, I would as soon kidnap my 
 grandfather, or some one else equally dear to me," 
 Bethune declared. "But it was a great tempta- 
 tion." 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 "It was so, especially to a young feller," re- 
 marked Mr. Sanders. "When the hosses turned, 
 I fully expected Frank to stick his head out an* use 
 some words that you don't hear in parlours an* 
 when he didn't, I never was so happy in my life. 
 What we mought 'a' done if you hadn't gone an' 
 kidnapped yourself right before our face, I can't 
 say. I'm like the feller the mule kicked in the 
 stomach. Says he, ' I seed her switch her tail 
 that I seed p'intedly. What she done atter that, I 
 can't say.' " 
 
 "If you would only trust me, Mr. President!" 
 exclaimed Mr. Stanton. There was no bitterness 
 in his voice. 
 
 " Why, I trust you precisely as far as I can trust 
 myself," replied Mr. Lincoln, earnestly. " No man 
 could do more; would any other man do as 
 much?" 
 
 The Secretary made no reply. He resumed his 
 spectacles and turned to Bethune. 
 
 " But why, now that the affair is over, do you 
 come in here and admit what nobody could have 
 proved ? What is Doyle to you ? " 
 
 " Less than nothing, Mr. Secretary. I think the 
 President understands my motives." 
 
 "Perfectly, perfectly," said Mr. Lincoln. "But 
 I don't understand why you changed your mind 
 when you had everything in your own hands." 
 
 240 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 "Well, I can only say this, Mr. President, that 
 if the plain people of the South knew you as well 
 as we know you, the war wouldn't last much 
 longer." 
 
 Mr. Lincoln arose from his chair and laid his 
 hand on Bethune's shoulder. " My son," he said 
 solemnly, " no human being ever did or ever can 
 pay me a higher compliment than that. I wish all 
 your people would take a month off and come up 
 here to kidnap me ! " 
 
 "They are engaged in some such adventure 
 now," remarked Mr. Stanton, dryly. 
 
 The President paid no attention to the remark, 
 but walked about the room with his hands behind 
 him and his head forward. Finally he paused and 
 stood before Bethune and Mr. Sanders, his feet 
 planted somewhat apart. 
 
 "I'll tell you gentlemen the honest truth," he 
 declared, raising his right arm high above his head ; 
 " my heart bleeds night and day for every wound 
 the war inflicts on both sides. If I know my own 
 mind, I know no North and no South. All that I 
 hope for and pray for is the Union the Union 
 preserved, and the Union at peace, with all factions 
 and all parties working together for the glory and 
 greatness of the Republic. I would, if I could, 
 take the South in my arms and soothe all her 
 troubles, and wipe out all the old difficulties and 
 
 341 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 differences, and start the Nation on a new career. 
 I have the will, but not the power." He paused a 
 moment, and then resumed with a smile, " Stanton 
 there says I'm a politician, and I reckon I am, but 
 if I were nothing else, I'd be ashamed of myself." 
 
 " Mr. President," said Bethune, gravely, " if we 
 had found you to be a politician, petulant and 
 intriguing, you wouldn't be here to-night." 
 
 "Ain't it the truth!" exclaimed Mr. Sanders, 
 with unction. 
 
 "Well, Mr. President," remarked Mr. Stanton, 
 arising from his chair, "your friends are more 
 agreeable than I supposed they would be. But 
 hereafter I hope you will believe that I know what 
 I am talking about." 
 
 "Why, I never doubted it,'* Mr. Lincoln de- 
 clared; "but you'll have to take me as you find 
 me." 
 
 " The trouble wi' him, Mr. President," said Mr. 
 Sanders, " is that he's afraid he'll not be able to 
 find you." 
 
 The Secretary regarded Mr. Sanders from be- 
 hind his inscrutable glasses, smiled faintly, and 
 exclaimed, " Ain't it the truth ! " Then, as if the 
 effort to mimic Mr. Sanders had thawed him out, 
 he shook hands with the two Southerners, laugh- 
 ing softly to himself, and went out. The episode 
 was sufficient to show that the great War Secretary 
 
 242 
 
THE KIDNAPPING OF PRESIDENT LINCOLN 
 
 (and he was truly great in his line) could be agree- 
 able when he chose to be. 
 
 "That's the only fun he's had since the war 
 begun," Mr. Lincoln asserted. 
 
 Nothing more remains to be told. Bethune, Mr. 
 Sanders, and Mrs. Elise Clopton had no difficulty 
 in making their way South. They had an escort 
 through the Federal lines, and were turned over to 
 their compatriots under a flag of truce. 
 
 243 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN McCARTHY 
 
 COLONEL ALBERT LAMAR, of Georgia, who was 
 secretary or clerk of the Confederate Senate at 
 Richmond, used to tell his intimate friends that the 
 mystery of Philip Doyle was one of the few things 
 in his experience that had kept him awake o' nights. 
 Those who have followed the course of the preced- 
 ing narratives will remember Mr. Doyle as the 
 obliging gentleman who was kind enough to af- 
 ford Francis Bethune an opportunity to run his 
 neck in a halter. This mystery, briefly stated, was 
 this : Given the fact that Mr. Doyle was in the 
 employ of the Federal secret service, how did he 
 manage to obtain an important position in one 
 of the departments of the Confederate govern- 
 ment ? 
 
 It should be remembered that up to the moment 
 when one of Captain McCarthy's clerks in the New 
 York Hotel interpreted the cipher despatch which 
 had been intrusted to young Bethune, there were 
 but two men in the Confederacy who suspected Mr. 
 247 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 Doyle. One of these was Colonel Lamar and the 
 other was John Omahimdro, who, while acting as 
 one of Jeb Stuart's scouts, was also connected 
 with the Confederate secret service. 
 
 Doyle seemed to be high in the confidence of 
 the chiefs of the various bureaus, but Colonel 
 Lamar soon discovered that this impression had 
 been produced by Doyle himself, not alone by his 
 attitude and manner but by his general conversa- 
 tion. Inquiry also developed the fact that none of 
 Doyle's superiors knew anything about him beyond 
 the fact that he had managed by some means or 
 other to secure a position to which were attached 
 few duties and a very comfortable salary. Colo- 
 nel Lamar, who seemed to be always taking his 
 time, was one of the most indefatigable of workers. 
 His easy-going and genial manner was a cloak to 
 a temperament at once fiery and reckless. Step 
 by step, he pushed his way back through various 
 channels of information until he found that Mr. 
 Doyle had been appointed on the recommendation 
 of a firm of London bankers which was not as 
 prominent in the financial world then as it is to- 
 day. Of course this firm had connections with 
 Wall Street, just as it had with all the money cen- 
 tres of the world. But the problem that presented 
 itself to the mind of Colonel Lamar was this : why 
 did this British firm desire to have Mr. Doyle 
 
 248 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 appointed to a position which was a very responsi- 
 ble one, even if its duties were light ? 
 
 Now, the present writer has no intention of un- 
 covering and parading in print the various inter- 
 esting facts which this investigation brought to 
 light. The details do not belong to history as it 
 is written. Almost without exception, since money 
 became a power, the real politicians in all ages and 
 countries have been and are the leading financiers. 
 Since the dawn of civilisation, history has been 
 made up of conclusions and deductions that are 
 not only superficial but false. Your true historian 
 will be the man who is fortunate enough to gain 
 access to the records of the most powerful financial 
 institutions of the various nations of the earth. 
 
 The great political leaders of the world who 
 have not been dominated by the financiers may 
 be numbered on the fingers of your hands Wash- 
 ington, Jefferson, Lincoln, and a few others. This 
 is true, not because politicians are corrupt (though 
 many of them fall in that category), but because 
 the financial interests of the world are more pow- 
 erful, and in the minds of a majority of men, more 
 important, than all the superficial issues of poli- 
 tics. Thus it is that parties, political contests, 
 wars, and all great movements are so manipulated 
 by the master minds of finance that neither the 
 beneficiaries nor the victims have any notion of 
 249 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 the real issues that have been contended for, or 
 the results that have been brought about. 
 
 These manipulations do not constitute, they are 
 the origin of history, and it is only occasionally 
 that they may be said to become obvious. Suffi- 
 cient has been said to indicate why the facts and 
 names which yielded themselves up to the pressure 
 of Colonel Lamar's energetic investigations cannot 
 be made public. It should be said in Mr. Doyle's 
 behalf that he, himself, had no actual knowledge 
 of the real interests he was serving. He had very 
 genuine feelings of patriotism those feelings 
 which cool heads and master minds find it so easy 
 to take advantage of. He was heartily for the 
 Union, and, in addition to that, he was ambitious 
 to rise and shine in the service to which he was 
 devoting himself. 
 
 Indeed, it was his personal ambition that de- 
 stroyed his usefulness at the Confederate capital. 
 He had a great deal more adroitness and dexterity 
 in his profession than has been indicated, but he 
 was anxious to attract Mr. Stanton's attention, and 
 he supposed that something sensational was neces- 
 sary to that end. The trap he laid for Francis 
 Bethune would have succeeded beyond all question 
 if his scheme had provided against such a contin- 
 gency (for instance) as Mr. Sanders. In the 
 nature of things this was impossible, for the reason 
 
 250 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 that the personality of Mr. Sanders was unique. 
 Nor could Mr. Doyle provide against the swift 
 suspicions of John Omahundro. Nevertheless, 
 when all his energies were aroused, Philip Doyle 
 was a very shrewd and capable man. 
 
 The morning after Bethune and Mr. Sanders 
 started on their journey, he got hold of a piece of 
 information that seemed to him to be of the ut- 
 most importance. Quite by accident, he learned 
 of the bureau of the Confederate secret service 
 which had its headquarters in the New York 
 Hotel. Careful inquiry in the right direction 
 enabled him to procure a list of the officers and 
 employees serving this bureau. 
 
 Now this was information of the first class, and 
 Mr. Doyle deemed it of sufficient importance to 
 justify his prompt retirement from Richmond. 
 He was delayed for several days by urgent busi- 
 ness but, as we have seen, he arrived in Washing- 
 ton on the night that President Lincoln insisted on 
 having himself kidnapped. The next morning his 
 presence became known to Omahundro, who car- 
 ried this information to McCarthy's lieutenant at 
 the Federal capital. The day after, this advertise- 
 ment appeared in the " Personal " column of the 
 New York Herald: 
 
 " To Terence Nagle, late of Augusta, Georgia : 
 Jack sends this message to Mack. Fix up the 
 
 251 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 house for company, and be sure the dishes are 
 washed clean. The web-patterned doylies should 
 be well laundried. Jack." 
 
 This advertisement appeared twice, and on its 
 second appearance it caught the eye of a cabman 
 who was waiting for a fare near the New York 
 Hotel. He dismounted from his seat and saun- 
 tered toward the entrance, where a porter was 
 sweeping. 
 
 "Where's the Nagle lad?" he asked. 
 
 The porter looked around. " Answerin' a bell, I 
 dunno." 
 
 "So. I'd have a worrud wit' him, whin it's 
 convaynient." 
 
 The cabman went back to his vehicle and paced 
 up and down beside it. Presently Terence came 
 to the door, flourishing a whisk broom. " Oh ! 'tis 
 you, Mike." 
 
 " Hev ye seen the Hurld the day ? " He took 
 it from his pocket and laid his heavy forefinger 
 upon the advertisement. 
 
 Terence scanned it carefully. Then he laughed 
 and held up both hands in admiration. " What a 
 man is Captain Mack!" he exclaimed. "He 
 heard the news ahead of the editor ; upon me soul 
 he did. Before the breakfast hour yisterday morn- 
 in* the clane-up was over an' done wit' an' the ould 
 man an' the b'ys was gone." 
 
 252 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 "An' Terence lift in the lurch, b'gobs!" said 
 the cabman. 
 
 " In the lurch, is it ? " retorted Terence, glowing 
 with good humour. " Says the Captain to me, ' My 
 lad, I'm lavin' ye for to do the head worruk,' says 
 he. ' Ye have a cool head,' he says, ' a keen eye, 
 an' a clane mind,' he says, 'an' I'm trustin' in ye 
 discrateness altogether.' " 
 
 " Did he say that now ? " cried the cabman, ap- 
 pearing to be highly pleased. 
 
 "He did," replied Terence, " an' he said more; 
 he said, says he, ' Do ye give my regards to Mike 
 an' the b'ys,' he says, 'an' tell 'em for to tip 
 Terence the wink whin they have fares for 231 
 Plaisdell Avenue, Brooklyn.' " 
 
 "B'gobs, we'll do't! " said Mike, the cabman. 
 
 " If there's no more'n four, ye're to give me the 
 wink, drive about a bit, an' then take 'em straight 
 to the number, where they'll find rist an' refrish- 
 ment for man an' baste. An' if me two eyes tell 
 me no lies, the chanst is runnin' right at ye head- 
 foremost." This last remark was made pertinent 
 by the appearance of two men in the doorway of 
 the hotel. One of them turned back to buy a 
 couple of cigars ; the other came toward the cab. 
 Just then Terence was hitting the rolled curtains 
 of the vehicle a lick or two with the whisk broom 
 and saying, " If ye were a bit tidier maybe ye'd 
 253 
 
play to a bigger aujience." He turned when the 
 gentleman came up. 
 
 " Are you acquainted with Brooklyn ? " asked 
 the newcomer. 
 
 "'Twas there I lived whin I first landed," re- 
 plied the cabman. 
 
 "Well, my friend and I want to go to 231 Plais- 
 dell Avenue ; are you acquainted with the local- 
 ity?" 
 
 " I know it well enough to drive ye there, sir ; 
 but ye'll find it chaper to go by 'bus and ferry." 
 
 " But we're in a hurry," the gentleman ex- 
 plained. "We have a friend there who may 
 perhaps desire to return with us." 
 
 The cabman bowed and opened the door of his 
 vehicle. From under his own seat he drew a 
 duster, and with this he carefully brushed the 
 cushions inside. This done, the two gentlemen 
 took their seats, and the cab moved off. 
 
 In this case the cabman had been under no 
 necessity of tipping the wink to Terence, the bell- 
 boy. That lively lad had been on hand with his 
 ears open, and, in answer to an imaginary sum- 
 mons from the office, he went running into the 
 hotel. 
 
 "I'm for Brooklyn, sir," he said to the clerk, 
 and that functionary smiled, and bowed an affable 
 consent. But an instant was required for Terence 
 
 254 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 to change his blouse working-jacket for coat and 
 waistcoat. Running out through the ladies' en- 
 trance, he climbed to the side of a burly-looking 
 cabman, said something in his ear which caused 
 him to arouse himself with a smile. He looked at 
 his watch as he gathered up the reins, and smacked 
 his lips over its white face. His cab was drawn 
 by two horses, and they seemed to be very spirited 
 animals when in motion. 
 
 " Now, Barney, do ye know what's to be done ?" 
 asked Terence. 
 
 " If Mike knows as well," replied Barney, "both 
 jobs'll be well done. But mind you, what chasin's 
 to be done, must be done in the village where 
 there's nothin' but preachers an' babies." 
 
 " Mike knows," said Terence, confidently. 
 
 " Then we'll be first at the finish, with forty-five 
 minutes to spare. Does the old man need more'n 
 that?" 
 
 Terence laughed exultantly. "Says Captain 
 Mack, says he, ' Give me tin minutes, me lad,' says 
 he, 'an' we'll have court in session whin our 
 friends come,' he says." 
 
 As Barney, with his two smart horses, was turn- 
 ing out of Broadway to go into a street where 
 there were fewer obstacles, he nudged his com- 
 panion and pointed with his whip. A block away, 
 Mike and his fares had been caught in one of the 
 255 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 jams for which the lower part of Broadway is 
 famous. This particular jam seemed to be as 
 impassable as a lumber boom, and it was all occa- 
 sioned by a half dozen words in Gaelic spoken to 
 the drivers of two big trucks. 
 
 The cabmen and the two truckmen shook their 
 fists at one another defiantly, and used language 
 which, to say the least, was not invented in the 
 mild atmosphere of the parlour. The blockade 
 attracted attention for several blocks. It had 
 sprung up, as it were, unexpectedly. It was 
 begun and carried out with great vehemence of 
 language and gesture. A half dozen policemen, 
 men of long experience in such matters, did their 
 utmost to straighten out matters and provide a 
 channel for traffic. If the jam had occurred at 
 a crossing, all would have been well, but its centre 
 was in the middle of two long blocks, and the 
 vehicles that were caught in it found it impossible 
 to beat a retreat. 
 
 "What's the trouble?" asked one of Mike's 
 passengers, putting his head out of the window. 
 
 " 'Tis the diwle an' all to pay, sir," answered 
 Mike, looking at his watch. Ten minutes and 
 more had been gained. He nodded his head to 
 truckman No. I, who waved his hand at truckman 
 No. 2. 
 
 Then, " Hi, there ! " said No. I. " Look sharp, 
 256 
 
there ! " cried No. 2. And, lo ! what the police- 
 men had failed to do, was accomplished in five 
 minutes, for in that space of time, the blockade 
 melted away, and traffic resumed its tireless march. 
 
 The ferry at which Mike, the cabman, crossed 
 was thirty minutes farther from Plaisdell Avenue 
 than the one at which Barney and Terence had 
 crossed, and he made the distance still longer by 
 indulging in some of those tricks of driving that 
 are a part of the cabman's trade. 
 
 Finally, however, the vehicle drew up at 231, 
 and Mike dismounted from the seat to open the 
 door. 
 
 " You will wait for us," said the gentleman who 
 had engaged the cab. 
 
 " Will ye be long, sir ? " Mike's tone was ex- 
 tremely solicitous as he consulted his watch. 
 
 "Why, no," replied the gentleman who had 
 acted throughout as spokesman. 
 
 " As much as an hour, sir ? " insisted the cabman. 
 
 "Why, certainly not. Ten minutes at the 
 most," the gentleman asserted. 
 
 " Oh, I see," remarked the cabman, and he 
 regarded the two men with an expression on his 
 face which they remembered afterward. 
 
 257 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 II 
 
 Now, one of those gentlemen was Mr. Philip 
 Doyle, of whom we have heard, and the other was 
 Mr. William Webb, the accomplished officer who 
 had fallen into conversation with our old friend 
 Sanders in the dining room of the New York 
 Hotel. Mr. Doyle had a fair reputation with his 
 superiors for energy and sagacity, but Mr. Webb 
 was the pride of the secret service bureau, and he 
 was very ambitious. Moreover, he was almost as 
 intensely devoted to the cause of the Union as Mr. 
 Stanton. No fatigue was too great for him to 
 undergo in the performance of his duties. He 
 had a clear head and high courage, and all his 
 faculties were keenly developed. 
 
 When Mr. Doyle came up from the South, 
 Webb was naturally the first person he sought out, 
 after reporting to his chief. He had worked with 
 Webb, and liked him, and, while in the South, had 
 been under Webb's direction. The trouble with 
 Doyle was that he set too much store by his per- 
 sonal ambition. He was for the Union, of course, 
 but first and foremost he was for Mr. Philip Doyle. 
 
 Therefore, instead of laying the information he 
 had before the chief of the bureau, he kept it to 
 himself, until he found an opportunity to consult 
 258 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 with Webb. The temptation which the situation 
 presented to the latter was not as strong, perhaps, 
 as it was in the case of Mr. Doyle ; but it existed. 
 It would be a great stroke if he, with Doyle, should 
 be the means of unearthing the conspiracy against 
 the Government and arresting the man who was 
 responsible therefor. 
 
 " Have you the documentary proof in your pos- 
 session ? " Mr. Webb asked Doyle at their private 
 consultation. " It is very important to have that. 
 It is easy enough to arrest men promiscuously, 
 as has been done on too many occasions. What 
 we want is the actual proof." 
 
 For answer, Mr. Doyle took from the breast- 
 pocket of his coat a package of papers and handed 
 them to his companion, who examined them very 
 carefully. 
 
 " If you think that settles it," Webb said with 
 a smile, " wouldn't it be best to lay these docu- 
 ments before the chief, get an order for a provost's 
 guard, and make an end of the matter ? " 
 
 " And when that is done, where would the credit 
 lie ? " Mr. Doyle inquired. 
 
 "Why, with the bureau, of course," was the 
 response. 
 
 " But if we undertake it and carry it out success- 
 fully : what then ? " 
 
 " That is true," said Mr. Webb. " You are 
 259 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 sure you have said nothing of this to any one 
 else?" 
 
 " Why, I haven't had time to think about it until 
 now," Mr. Doyle declared. "I hoped to make 
 a big strike by the arrest of the fellows who were 
 plotting to kidnap Mr. Lincoln; but you know 
 what a failure that was." 
 
 "I do, indeed," replied Mr. Webb. "Alto- 
 gether, it is the most peculiar case I ever heard 
 of. I have been trying to unravel it to my satis- 
 faction ; but the more I think about it, the more 
 mysterious it becomes. And then, there's that 
 chap, Awtry. He has resigned and gone South 
 with Bethune and the old buffoon." 
 
 " Well, Awtry is a Southern man, you know, and 
 the people down there or the most of them 
 act on principles that are dim to me," remarked 
 Mr. Doyle. "But about this case of ours: what 
 shall we do about it? Can't you get a signed 
 order for the arrest of this man?" 
 
 "Oh, there's no difficulty about the order of 
 arrest. Such orders are thick as leaves on the 
 trees," replied Mr. Webb. "I am well acquainted 
 with the head waiter of the New York Hotel. 
 If he is the man we want, there can be no diffi- 
 culty about arresting him. He is rather a shrewd 
 man. He sees through all my disguises without 
 trouble; but I judge from his face that he was 
 
 260 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 once an actor, and that he has some weakness 
 which has prevented him from following his pro- 
 fession. That's the way I've sized him up. A more 
 amiable man I have never met, and he seems to 
 know how to hold his tongue. Now, the character 
 of work that has been mapped out at the New 
 York Hotel, and successfully carried out by the 
 Confederate agents, would never be in the hands 
 of a man willing to accept a menial position. 
 Take the case as it stands: why should a man 
 capable of such work desire to figure in a position 
 that is at least servile? All he has to do is to 
 lock himself in a room, and his whereabouts would 
 never be suspected." 
 
 "But here are the documents," Mr. Doyle 
 insisted. 
 
 " True," replied Webb ; " but how do you know 
 these very documents were not intended to mis- 
 lead ? You must remember that the business we 
 are engaged in requires considerable headwork. 
 We must never underrate the abilities of an oppo- 
 nent. That a very shrewd and shifty man is doing 
 this secret service work for the rebels is very evi- 
 dent to me. Is it likely that his name and object 
 would be spread out on the Records in Richmond ? 
 Now, I think not." 
 
 " But they were not * spread out,' as you call it," 
 said Doyle. "They were in a very safe place, 
 '261 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 and it was only by accident that they came into 
 my hands." 
 
 "There is another fact to be taken into con- 
 sideration," pursued Webb, who was very fond 
 of his theories, and very happy, as he supposed, 
 in inventing them. The reader will admit, too, 
 that his deductions were logical. " Another fact, 
 and a very important one," he repeated, and then 
 paused. 
 
 " What is it ? " inquired Doyle. 
 
 "Why, the general character of the Southern 
 people, and the particular characteristics of a 
 Southern man capable of managing a secret ser- 
 vice bureau in the heart of the enemy's country. 
 I know something of these people, but you know 
 more. Now, I ask you again, is it at all likely 
 that a man who is in a position to command men 
 would stoop to flourish a towel and usher guests 
 to their seats in a public dining room ? Why, such 
 service would leave a bad taste in my mouth, and 
 in yours. This being the case, how would it affect 
 the pride of our friend, the enemy ? " 
 
 "Still " Doyle was going on to repeat his 
 belief in the records he had abstracted, but Webb 
 interrupted him. 
 
 "I'm only trying to prepare you for the inevi- 
 table," he said. " I'm going with you, and I pro- 
 pose to act just as if I placed as much confidence 
 262 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 in these documents as you do. More than that, 
 if we succeed, the credit shall all be placed to your 
 account. If we fail, I'll share the failure with you. 
 I am simply trying to show you that what is true 
 must be reasonable." 
 
 "But if we fail," suggested Doyle, "no one 
 need know about it." 
 
 "True enough," responded Webb; "but I'll 
 know it, and you'll know it. That is the reason 
 I have been at some pains to give you my views 
 on the subject. The head waiter's name is 
 McCarthy; that much I am certain of. And 
 your documents say that an inquiry for McCarthy 
 means an inquiry for the chief of the bureau in 
 New York. Well, we'll try our hands. If we 
 fail, well and good." 
 
 Mr. Doyle was careful not to produce his list 
 of active agents and clerks of the bureau. He 
 kept this for his own use, hoping to bring himself 
 still more prominently to the attention of his 
 superiors by arresting the agents and clerks one 
 at a time. He had mapped out a very successful 
 programme in his mind, and saw himself advanced 
 in the line of promotion until he became famous 
 all over the world. His professional pride, as 
 such, was devoted wholly to his own advancement, 
 whereas, Mr. Webb, with less energy, rather liked 
 his work; and when one of his theories turned 
 
 263 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 out to be the true one, he rejoiced over it as the 
 artist does who makes a happy stroke with his 
 brush. 
 
 The two men took the night train for New 
 York, where they arrived at an early hour, and 
 were driven at once to the New York Hotel. 
 They secured a room and were soon in the dining 
 room. A head waiter was on hand, but he was 
 not McCarthy. Presently Mr. Webb called the 
 man and asked for McCarthy. 
 
 " Why, I think he is ill, sir, but the gentleman 
 in the office can tell you more about it. I was 
 suddenly called to take his place yesterday, and 
 I heard some one say he was ill." 
 
 The man who brought their breakfast had prac- 
 tically the same report to make. He had heard 
 that the former head waiter was ill. He was not 
 sure, but he thought it was a sudden attack of 
 inflammatory rheumatism. 
 
 At the office the gentlemanly clerk was cool, but 
 polite. He had not heard of McCarthy's absence 
 or illness, but the evidence should be at hand. He 
 searched awhile, and was about to dismiss the 
 gentlemen, when, as it seemed, a thought struck 
 him. 
 
 "Wait!" he said, snapping his finger impa- 
 tiently ; " I believe I've been looking over the 
 wrong file-hook." 
 
 364 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 In five minutes he came across a note from a 
 physician stating that the head waiter was ill at 
 his home, 231 Plaisdell Avenue, Brooklyn. "In- 
 flammatory rheumatism. Be unable to report for 
 duty for several days ; perhaps for several weeks." 
 So the clerk interpreted the scrawl spread out over 
 the face of the certificate. Mr. Webb wrote the 
 name of the street and the number in his memo- 
 randum-book, and shortly afterward, as we have 
 seen, engaged a cab to take his companion and 
 himself to the house. 
 
 Ill 
 
 Number 231 was part of a brick tenement, and 
 was marked by very neat surroundings. At the 
 moment when the two visitors arrived, there was 
 more of a bustle about the place than Mr. Webb 
 deemed desirable. A large truck drawn by two 
 heavy-built horses had backed up to the pavement 
 opposite the adjoining number, and several stout 
 men in blouses were standing around apparently 
 awaiting orders. Evidently some one was moving 
 in or out of No. 233. 
 
 The door of No. 231 opened promptly in re- 
 sponse to the ringing of the bell, and Webb and 
 Doyle were ushered into the sitting room and then 
 into a smaller room in which was a writing-desk 
 
 265 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 and a chintz-covered sofa with cushioned chairs to 
 match. As the two men disappeared, Mike, the 
 cabman, remarked to Barney, who was now arrayed 
 in blue overalls. 
 
 "Oh, Barney! he says he'll be out in tin 
 minutes." 
 
 " Did he say that, now ? " replied Barney, with 
 a grin and a grimace that would have made his 
 fortune on the vaudeville stage. 
 
 " He did, b'gobs ! He says them very wurruds." 
 
 By way of c mment Barney raised his hands and 
 let them fall again in a despairing gesture, as if 
 there could be no hope for a man who made such 
 offhand remarks. 
 
 The room in which Webb and Doyle found them- 
 selves was, as has been already hinted, very 
 modestly furnished. The pictures on the wall 
 were cheap, but, with one exception, they were 
 fair reproductions of some of the old masterpieces. 
 The exception was the portrait of a wonderfully 
 beautiful young girl. Mr. Webb had a daughter, 
 and the portrait fascinated him. 
 
 Suddenly the door opposite the one by which 
 they entered was thrown half open, and a lad with 
 a pleasant face called out : 
 
 " He would speak with Mr. Dyle." 
 
 " Do you mean Doyle ? " inquired the owner of 
 the name. 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 " Sure, sir ; I said Dyle." 
 
 Mr. Doyle turned an inquiring eye on Mr. Webb, 
 who, after reflecting a moment, nodded his head, 
 and Doyle followed the lad. The door was shut 
 after him with something like a bang. Mr. Webb 
 had no opportunity to theorise about this bang, for 
 the door near him opened and Captain McCarthy 
 entered. He greeted Mr. Webb with a cordial 
 smile, and shook hands with an appearance of 
 heartiness which took the detective somewhat 
 aback. 
 
 " Why, I heard you were ill with rheumatism," 
 remarked Mr. Webb. 
 
 "And you thought a change of air would be 
 good for me," suggested Captain McCarthy, smiling. 
 " Well, I have heard stranger and truer things than 
 that." 
 
 " Did you send for Doyle just now ? " inquired 
 Webb. Never in his life did he feel less like per- 
 forming a disagreeable duty. 
 
 " He was summoned from the room because I 
 wanted to have a private conversation with you," 
 said McCarthy, seating himself. He regarded the 
 portrait of the child intently for a moment and 
 then turned to the detective. 
 
 " Did it ever occur to you, sir," he asked courte- 
 ously, " that perhaps you were after the wrong man 
 that, in ordej to do successfully what is, for the 
 
 267 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 moment, your duty, you should strike higher than a 
 poor old hotel servant ? " 
 
 " I have certainly had some such thought," re- 
 plied Webb. " Nevertheless, my duty compels 
 me " 
 
 At that moment the door through which Doyle 
 had made his exit was opened, and Terence Nagle 
 came in with an apologetic smile. He held some 
 papers in his hand. " The gentleman says ye're 
 welcome to these if they'll do you any good, sir. 
 His wurrud, sir, was that he'd see you later." 
 
 "Very well, my lad. Whenever it suits his con- 
 venience," remarked Captain McCarthy, taking 
 the papers and giving a cursory examination to 
 each. 
 
 Mr. Webb, whose duty had compelled him to 
 half rise from his seat, sank back in his chair with an 
 exclamation of surprise. He saw that the papers 
 which McCarthy held in his hands were the docu- 
 ments on which Doyle had depended to prove the 
 charges to be brought against the head waiter 
 the charges on which he was to be arrested. 
 
 " Is Doyle gone ? " asked Webb. 
 
 " I can best answer that by saying that the 
 chances are you'll never see him again," answered 
 McCarthy. 
 
 " Has he been murdered?" cried the other, rising 
 
 to his feet 
 
 268 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 " Tut, man ! do you take me for an assassin ? If 
 you will resume your seat and restrain your feel- 
 ings, I will make the case of Mr. Doyle perfectly 
 plain to you, and yours as well. But yours first. 
 Would you like a glass of wine ? " 
 
 " Not at present," said Mr. Webb, suspecting 
 poison, perhaps. 
 
 "As you please," remarked the head waiter. 
 " Now then, in regard to your affairs. You have 
 a brother in the Confederate Army." 
 
 "That is true, I am sorry to say," responded 
 Webb. 
 
 " I see no cause for weeping," said McCarthy, 
 dryly. " Now, six yes, eight months ago this 
 brother of yours was in prison. His health was 
 not good, and you were anxious to secure his re- 
 lease. You tried every honourable plan that could 
 suggest itself to you, and at last, when you had 
 come to the end of your resources, your brother 
 was still languishing yes, that is the word 
 languishing in prison." 
 
 "That is true," assented Mr. Webb, uneasily. 
 
 "Well, what happened then ? " McCarthy asked, 
 fixing his eyes upon the face of the detective. 
 
 Mr. Webb shifted his position, and finally 
 arose to his feet and crossed the room as if to 
 get a nearer view of the child's portrait on 
 the wall. 
 
 269 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 "That is my daughter," remarked Captain 
 McCarthy. 
 
 "She is very beautiful," said Mr. Webb. And 
 then there came a knock on the door, and Nora 
 followed the knock like an echo. 
 
 " Dada," she cried, shaking her hair away from 
 a face in which modesty and mischief were carry- 
 ing on a perpetual contest, " dada, the cabman is 
 uneasy. He says the gentleman was to keep him 
 waiting only ten minutes." She turned to Mr. 
 Webb with a smile and a blush. 
 
 " Mr. Webb, this is the little girl of the picture. 
 Nora, darlin', tell the cabman that his fare is paid 
 and he may return at once. The gentleman will 
 remain a little longer." 
 
 " The picture doesn't do her justice," said Mr. 
 Webb. 
 
 "Oh, she'll never get justice this side of Para- 
 dise," exclaimed Nora's father with sparkling eyes. 
 "You were saying " 
 
 " About my brother," responded Mr. Webb, re- 
 suming his seat. " Well, my brother is very dear 
 to me. To me he is both father and brother, and 
 my affection for him led me to a very dishonourable 
 action." 
 
 "Oh, we are not discussing principles," inter- 
 rupted Captain McCarthy. " We shall never know 
 the exact line of duty, when it is a question 
 
 270 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 between kindred and country, until we get to 
 heaven." 
 
 " If we ever do get there," remarked Mr. 
 Webb. 
 
 " Certainly. With a great many, that is also an 
 open question. Well, at any rate, you owed some 
 sort of duty to your brother." 
 
 "Yes, and in spite of the fact that I had a com- 
 mission as an officer under the United States Gov- 
 ernment, I made every effort to aid my brother to 
 escape, and finally succeeded. The only time my 
 conscience has been easy in the matter was when 
 I saw him in the arms of our old mother, and 
 heard her thank Heaven that her eldest son was 
 free once more. But how did the facts become 
 known to you ? " 
 
 " Why, it is the simplest thing in the world. I 
 was working to the same end, and when I had 
 everything ready I found that some one had inter- 
 fered, and my scheme fell to pieces. But when I 
 found what you were trying to do I joined hands 
 with you, and your plans were successful." 
 
 " Well, upon my word ! " exclaimed Webb. 
 
 " Now, then, when your brother was delivered 
 into your hands on that dark and stormy night, he 
 turned back to the carriage in which he had come 
 and said something to the man inside. Do you 
 remember what it was ? " 
 271 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 "Certainly," responded Mr. Webb. "He said, 
 ' Good-by, Larry, and God bless you ! ' " 
 
 " Well," commented the head waiter, with a ten- 
 der light kindling in his eyes, " my name is Law- 
 rence McCarthy, and the chosen few of the men of 
 this world whom God permits to love me, call me 
 Larry." 
 
 Again Mr. Webb walked across the room and 
 then reseated himself. "Of course you know that 
 this information you have given me completely ties 
 my hands." 
 
 " Excuse me, sir ! " said Captain McCarthy, with 
 stern emphasis. "We are not children. I gave 
 you the information because your brother Martin 
 is a very dear friend of mine, and I am trying to 
 give you an opportunity to withdraw from your pur- 
 suit of a poor old serving man, and direct it toward 
 those who are worthier of your attention. You 
 owe me no gratitude, and I do not propose for you 
 to go away from here (if you go at all) under any 
 fancied obligation to me. What I did or tried to 
 do for your brother was for his sake alone, and the 
 course I propose to take with you is for his sake 
 and not for yours. But, make no mistake about 
 it I am under no obligations to him, nor he to 
 me. In the course of Providence it happens that 
 his name is written on the tablets of my friendship, 
 and there it will remain." 
 272 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 This, of course, tended to throw Mr. Webb back 
 on his personal dignity. "My duty " he began, 
 but Captain McCarthy interrupted him. 
 
 " Pardon me ! I am not discussing duty. The 
 pursuit of that lies between each individual and 
 his conscience. What I propose to do, if I can 
 get your consent, is to provide for my own safety 
 by providing for yours." 
 
 " You think I am in your power, then ? " sug- 
 gested Mr. Webb. 
 
 " As completely so as if I had you surrounded 
 with a regiment of men. Not only that, you will 
 be in my power should you leave this house and 
 return to Washington." 
 
 " Am I free to ask an explanation ? " re- 
 marked Webb, with a touch of sarcasm in his 
 tone. 
 
 "That shall be forthcoming, whether you ask 
 it or not," was the response. Captain McCarthy 
 went to his desk and produced a copy of the 
 Herald of the day before. "Did you, by any 
 chance, see this advertisement in the Herald? It 
 was printed again to-day." He indicated with 
 his forefinger the " Personal " which has already 
 been given. 
 
 Mr. Webb read the notice, and turned to Mc- 
 Carthy with an expression of perplexity in his 
 face. " Who could have sent that ? " 
 
 273 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 * " It was sent by a person who is unknown to 
 you. You will observe that he not only announces 
 your coming, but gives your name and that of 
 your companion." 
 
 " But no one knew the errand we were coming 
 on," protested Mr. Webb. 
 
 " Nevertheless, the person who sent that adver- 
 tisement to the Herald knew," remarked the head 
 waiter with a smile. " But I have shown you the 
 notice merely to convince you that your movements 
 are perfectly well known to the person who wrote 
 that warning. It may interest you to know that 
 this man has in his hands absolute proofs of your 
 complicity in the escape of your brother. He has 
 affidavits from two men whom you employed to 
 aid you." 
 
 " Well, to what end are you telling me all this ? " 
 asked Mr. Webb, drawing himself up. 
 
 " Does it not occur to you ? Your safety is 
 involved in your silence with respect to me. I 
 suggest that you impart to no one the information 
 you have received from this man Doyle it is 
 there on my desk and that you, personally, 
 refrain from moving against me. All things 
 considered, it is not an immodest nor a sweeping 
 request. Fly at whom you please, but leave me 
 alone. Permit an old serving man to indulge his 
 whims in peace." 
 
 274 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 Mr. Webb laughed with genuine amusement 
 " Whatever you are," he said, " you are no serving 
 man. You may be a preacher or an actor, but 
 you are not now and never have been a head 
 waiter." 
 
 Captain McCarthy smiled. "That is a queer 
 statement to make when your own eyes have been 
 witness to the fact that I performed my duties in 
 the hotel to the best of my poor ability." 
 
 " You place your demand that is what it 
 amounts to in the shape of a suggestion. If 
 you are as powerful here as you say you are, why 
 not exact pledges ? " 
 
 " My dear sir," exclaimed Captain McCarthy, 
 " I wouldn't give a bad shilling for a mountain of 
 pledges secured by compulsion. You have re- 
 flected, of course, that I have made no requests of 
 your late companion, the man Doyle. I have dis- 
 posed of him without even having seen his face." 
 
 "Well, where is Doyle?" asked Mr. Webb, 
 betraying some excitement. He was surprised 
 that his companion's continued absence had not 
 disturbed him. 
 
 "The case of Mr. Doyle is a very interesting 
 one," Captain McCarthy explained. " He has 
 been eating the bread of the Confederate govern* 
 ment with his mouth, and conspiring against it 
 with his head and his hands." 
 
 275 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 "Others have been using the United States 
 Government in the same way," retorted Webb. 
 
 " That may be so, but the practice of what is 
 wrong in principle does not make it right. Mr. 
 Doyle accepted an important office under the 
 Confederate government. Was the oath he took 
 when he received his commission a mere for- 
 mality? More than that, he suggested the kid- 
 napping of President Lincoln to a lad, a mere boy, 
 and then did his utmost to lead this lad to his de- 
 struction. The youngster, being strangely modest 
 and tractable for one of his temper and training, 
 submitted himself to the will of an older and a wiser 
 head, and so escaped. But Mr. Doyle will not 
 escape; you may depend upon that." 
 
 " Is he in the next room ? " asked Webb. 
 
 "Let us see," replied Captain McCarthy. He 
 led the way to the door by which Doyle had 
 passed, and opened it. There was another door 
 immediately beyond it, which Webb rightly judged 
 led into the adjoining tenement. Captain McCarthy 
 opened this second door, and Webb saw that the 
 room was empty. He called aloud : 
 
 "Doyle! Doyle! Phil!" His voice rang 
 strangely in the chamber, which, but for some loose 
 litter on the floor, was entirely empty. Webb 
 turned to Captain McCarthy. 
 
 " Man, you'll have to answer for this ! " 
 276 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 "Possibly; but you may be sure that Doyle is 
 on the way to answer for his transactions." 
 
 " But why do you dispose of Doyle and make 
 propositions to me ? " asked Webb. 
 
 "Suggestions not propositions," corrected Cap- 
 tain McCarthy. "The real reason is as I have 
 told you. Providence has been kind enough to 
 give you a brother whose qualities have endeared 
 him to me. Now let me ask you a question : why 
 do you insist on putting yourself in the same cate- 
 gory with this man Doyle ? " 
 
 Mr. Webb did not reply to the question. He 
 sat silent a long time, and McCarthy was careful 
 not to interrupt his reflection with idle conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 " I think I'll take that glass of wine, now," he 
 said, after a while. 
 
 The wine was soon forthcoming, and as they 
 sipped it slowly, McCarthy spoke : " What are 
 your conclusions? I mean, what course do you 
 intend to pursue with respect to me ? " 
 
 " I think," replied Webb, with a friendly twinkle 
 in his eye, " that it is I who should ask that ques- 
 tion." 
 
 " Well, sir, you have a brother whose friendship 
 
 I am permitted to enjoy, and you have drunk of 
 
 my wine. Under the circumstances, you will go 
 
 forth from this house as free as a bird on the wing." 
 
 277 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 " I think that will be best for both of us," re- 
 marked Mr. Webb. " I have made up my mind 
 to resign." 
 
 Captain McCarthy held his glass of wine be- 
 tween his eyes and the light, and watched the 
 bubbles die out on the amber-coloured fluid. " Your 
 decision is a wise one," he said, after a while. 
 " The unquestionable talent you have displayed in 
 certain details of this business in which you are 
 engaged, would be of great service to you in the 
 management of a railway line; and I think I'm 
 not certain, but I think I have a friend who 
 can give you a good excuse for sending in your 
 resignation." 
 
 "Now," said Mr. Webb, "as my cab is gone, 
 you will have to show me the way out of this 
 Brooklyn jungle." 
 
 " I propose to go with you," Captain McCarthy 
 declared. He opened the door by which he had 
 first entered the room, and spoke to some one 
 who was apparently waiting there: 
 
 "Terence, my lad, tell Barney to bring the 
 carriage around. The rest of you may go 
 now." 
 
 There was a shuffling of feet, and then silence. 
 Presently Terence reported that the carriage was 
 ready. Barney raised his hat as the Captain 
 saluted him. 
 
 278 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 " We want to get back as quickly as possible, 
 Barney," suggested McCarthy. 
 
 " I'll take ye by a shorter cut, sor, than Mike 
 fetched the gentleman," replied Barney, with a 
 grin. 
 
 Near Wall Street McCarthy and Webb entered 
 a banking house which has since made a great 
 name in the financial world. At that particular 
 time, the firm was very much in need of a trust- 
 worthy man to look after its interests in the 
 management of an important railway line. The 
 firm had indorsed the bonds of the road, and there 
 was reason to suspect that there had been sharp 
 practice on the part of the local managers. What 
 claim Captain McCarthy had on these bankers, or 
 what connection he had with them, was not clear 
 to Mr. Webb, but his influence with the firm was 
 due to the fact that he had rescued from a South- 
 ern prison, by perfectly legitimate methods, the 
 son of one of the members of the firm. As the 
 result of that piece of work, Mr. Webb secured a 
 position from which he climbed, step by step, into 
 the management of the road and its later acquisi- 
 tions. 
 
 879 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 IV 
 
 Captain McCarthy and Mr. Webb were en- 
 gaged with the bankers until the luncheon hour, 
 and as they drove up Broadway in the direction of 
 the New York Hotel, they passed a truck which 
 was hauling a box that appeared to contain an 
 upright piano. Four men stood in the body of 
 the truck. They were engaged in holding the 
 box in place. They saluted the occupants of the 
 carriage as it passed, and were soon left far 
 behind. 
 
 'Some of your men, I suppose," suggested 
 Mr. Webb. 
 
 "Well, they are often valuable as acquaint- 
 ances," replied Captain McCarthy. 
 
 In the piano box Mr. Doyle was confined. His 
 position was not as uncomfortable physically as 
 might be supposed. He sat in a cushioned chair, 
 and though his hands and feet were tied, yet due 
 regard to his comfort had been taken, even in this. 
 While this sort of confinement would have been in- 
 tolerable if it had lasted for any considerable length 
 of time, Mr. Doyle suffered no great inconvenience, 
 for after being hustled about considerably, and 
 somewhat shaken up, he found himself apparently 
 flying through the air for a space, and then the 
 box in whicli he had his temporary habitation was 
 
 280 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 slowly lowered until it rested on he knew not 
 what. 
 
 But presently he felt his small prison rocking 
 slowly and regularly, and then he heard the soft 
 lapping and splashing of water. Could the villains 
 have thrown him into the river? No, for there 
 were a number of small holes and vents in the box, 
 and through these the water would have trickled. 
 After a while he felt the trembling jar of 
 machinery, and then he knew he was in a boat. 
 But whither bound ? 
 
 Meanwhile, a great search was going on in all 
 parts of the boat for a missing man. A dis- 
 tinguished-looking gentleman, who seemed as if he 
 had seen service, was hunting everywhere for his 
 cousin. His restless movements and eager in- 
 quiries showed that he was in great trouble. The 
 Sarah Bolton, plying occasionally between New 
 York and Bermuda, had few passengers on her 
 outward trip, but to the most of these, at the 
 supper table, the distressed gentleman confided 
 the information that his cousin was one of the 
 best men in the world, and had as sound a mind 
 as any one except on one particular subject. 
 
 "He imagines," said the gentleman, "that he 
 
 is a secret service agent for the United States. 
 
 One day he has captured several dangerous 
 
 conspirators, and the next day he has been, or is 
 
 281 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 about to be captured. This afternoon, coming 
 down to the boat, he suggested that it would be 
 an easy matter for the rebel conspirators to 
 capture a detective and ship him off as freight in 
 the hold of a steamer. He talked about it after 
 we came on board." 
 
 " As if such a thing were possible in this prosy 
 age," remarked a tall, romantic-looking young 
 woman, who sat at the Captain's table. 
 
 "Why, the more impossible it is, the more 
 plausible he makes it appear, ma'am," said the 
 distinguished-looking gentleman, with a bow. "If 
 you didn't know his peculiarity, you'd be bound to 
 accept everything he said. He makes his inci- 
 dents and adventures fit together just as they do 
 in well, in Sylvanus Cobb's stories." 
 
 "Oh, have you read 'The Gunmaker of 
 Moscow ' ? I think it is perfectly delightful." 
 
 " The favourite author of my unfortunate cousin, 
 ma'am, is Emerson Bennett," said the gentleman, 
 blandly, whereat the genial captain came near 
 drowning himself in a glass of water, as the say- 
 ing is. It was the only way the unsympathetic 
 man could get rid of the laughter stored in his 
 chest. 
 
 " What I am afraid of is that the poor man 
 has jumped overboard," remarked the gentleman. 
 
 " No, no ! that couldn't be, you know. This 
 282 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 boat has a watch. A cap'n, a mate, a bos'n, and a 
 watch. That's what she has. I'll find your cousin, 
 my friend. Don't give my old lady a bad name 
 before you come to know her." 
 
 When the Captain arose from his table, the 
 distinguished-looking gentleman arose with him, 
 but paused with his hand on the back of the chair 
 long enough to say : 
 
 " My cousin's name is Doyle Philip Doyle 
 and should any of you find him hiding in your state- 
 rooms, don't be alarmed ; he is as harmless as a 
 child. Simply send word to the Captain, or the 
 first mate, and all will be well." 
 
 "If I find him in my stateroom," remarked a tall 
 young woman emphatically, "I know I shall faint." 
 
 The captain and the distinguished-looking gen- 
 tleman left the dining saloon and went to the 
 lower deck. In one corner along with a lot of 
 freight that had not been placed in the hold sat 
 Mr. Doyle's small prison house. Two or three of 
 the crew were within call. 
 
 " There's a stowaway aboard," the Captain said. 
 " Take a lantern and search the hold as well as 
 you can." 
 
 When the men had descended out of sight, he 
 seized a hatchet and proceeded to knock away the 
 boards that formed the roof of the box, remarking 
 to his companion : 
 
 283 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 "I ordered this planner for the ladies' saloon. 
 The old one is laid up for repairs. You say you 
 can play the planner, and you ought to be a good 
 judge of the thing. The firm guaranteed this one, 
 and if you find a flaw in her, right back she goes. 
 I'll not be swindled by chaps ashore. I'll why, 
 split my fo's'l! what's this? Well, I am swindled!" 
 
 " Why, he's tied and gagged ! " exclaimed the 
 distinguished-looking gentleman. He whipped out 
 a pocket knife, and Doyle was soon released from 
 his uncomfortable position. 
 
 "Well! I've sailed the seas, high and coastwise, 
 for nigh thirty year, but you're the first passenger 
 I ever took on as freight. Wait ! take your time 
 and get your reckonings. In fifteen minutes you'll 
 be all right, and then you can give me your name 
 and destination. No doubt your clearance papers 
 are all right." 
 
 But there was no need for Mr. Doyle to wait. 
 He was sore and stiff, but otherwise he was as 
 sound as a dollar. 
 
 " Come right here to the galley," said the Cap- 
 tain ; " you need something to eat, and many's the 
 meal I've taken right here when in a hurry, or 
 when the wind was blowing hard." He gave some 
 sharp orders to the cook, and Mr. Doyle was soon 
 enjoying what he regarded as the most delicious 
 meal he had ever eaten. 
 
 284 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 And while he was eating, the Captain worked 
 the box to the gangway opening and heaved it 
 overboard, while the distinguished-looking gentle- 
 man went upon the saloon deck, and soon gave 
 out the information that his cousin had been 
 found. 
 
 " He's improved in some respects, but in others 
 he's worse. He was in the hold, hiding from rebel 
 emissaries, but he says he was captured by them 
 to-day and brought aboard in a box. He says 
 there was a chair in the box, and that he would 
 have done very well if he hadn't been tied and 
 gagged. He doesn't recognise me as his cousin, 
 but his manner is more subdued. His eyes have 
 lost their wild expression. The doctors said a 
 voyage to Bermuda and back would help him, 
 and I hope he's made his last exhibition. It is 
 very distressing." 
 
 By this time all the passengers had gathered 
 around the distinguished-looking gentleman. 
 
 " I was in hopes," he went on, " that there would 
 be no need of saying a word about my cousin's con- 
 dition, but it has been unavoidable ; and I am glad 
 now that it is so, for I am a very poor judge of 
 human nature indeed, if I do not read sympathy in 
 your faces. Now, the only request I have to make 
 is that you will treat my cousin as if he were per- 
 fectly sane. Humour him by expressing surprise or 
 285 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 indignation when he refers to his imaginary trou- 
 bles. This is the doctor's advice." 
 
 The voice of the distinguished-looking gentle- 
 man was charged with a persuasive tenderness that 
 brought tears to the eyes of the tall, romantic-look- 
 ing young woman, and stirred the emotions of all 
 who heard him. His grey hair, combed away from 
 his forehead, and his strong features gave great 
 impressiveness to his words. As by a common 
 impulse the passengers came forward and pressed 
 his hand, one by one. 
 
 "I beg to differ with Shakespeare in one re- 
 spect," said the romantic-looking young woman, 
 as she pressed the gentleman's fingers; "it is 
 not the touch of Nature, but the hand of trouble, 
 that makes the whole world kin." 
 
 " I thank you all for your sympathy," the gen- 
 tleman exclaimed in husky tones. Then he raised 
 his hand and listened. " They are coming. And 
 now," he said, " let us break the monotony of the 
 voyage with a little whist, or, if not whist, any 
 game that will give an air of sociability to the 
 company." 
 
 The Captain was talking to Doyle, and evidently 
 trying to soothe him. " Don't you worry about it. 
 I'm my own purser, and you can just consider your 
 passage paid. Your yarn is all right all the way 
 through. A man that's been through what you 
 
 286 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 have, can ship with me any day. You're on the 
 Sarah Bolton, and Esseck Bolton is her captain; 
 that's me, and I'm glad to have you. You'll have 
 as good a stateroom as there is or., the vessel, and 
 I'll take you back to New York. So don't worry. 
 You'll find your fellow-passengers clever people; 
 I didn't pick 'em out for their cleverness, but the 
 Sarah Bolton has never had the bad luck to carry 
 an ugly passenger. Now, just make yourself at 
 home. You say you have no luggage; well, Mr. 
 Webb, there, will accommodate you with a change 
 of linen until you have a chance to go ashore." 
 
 " Webb ? did you say Webb ? " said Mr. Doyle ; 
 " why, that is the name of a very good friend of 
 mine." 
 
 "That is what the Captain calls me," remarked 
 the distinguished-looking gentleman with a grave 
 bow. 
 
 " My name is Doyle," said the other, " though it 
 is a wonder I haven't forgotten it, such a time I 
 have had." 
 
 Now, Doyle was just as sane as any man on the 
 boat, in fact, he was a man far above the average 
 in intelligence, but such is the force and effect 
 of prejudgment that everything he said and did 
 confirmed the idea of his fellow-passengers that 
 his mind was unbalanced. Their minds had been 
 prejudiced in advance; they sought for evidences 
 
 287 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 of monomania, and they found them in abundance, 
 especially when the gentleman who had been called 
 Webb cunningly drew from Doyle the story of 
 his day's adventure, and humoured him into an 
 unconscious exaggeration of the details. He nar- 
 rated his adventure with such vividness and invested 
 the events with such reality, as it seemed to his 
 hearers, that more than one shook their heads 
 when out of Doyle's sight and hearing, and re- 
 marked that it was a pity that a mind so vigorous 
 and an imagination so powerful should be the prey 
 of a mania, however harmless it might be to others. 
 
 Indeed, the romantic young woman Miss Hen- 
 rietta Estes was her name took the main inci- 
 dents of Mr. Doyle's narrative and wove them into 
 a love story. Its title was " The Mysterious Voy- 
 age," by Katharine Merry. The curious will find 
 it in The Seafoam Library series. These facts are 
 mentioned here to provide against any possible 
 charge of plagiarism that may be aimed at the 
 present writer by those who have preserved copies 
 of the pleasing and popular works included in the 
 Seafoam series. 
 
 By the time the Sarah Bolton reached Bermuda, 
 Mr. Doyle had conceived quite a friendship for the 
 gentleman who called himself Webb. There was 
 a reserve of strength, an undercurrent of courage 
 and hope, in his conversation, and something so 
 
 288 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 restful, refreshing, and pleasing in his countenance, 
 gestures, and attitude, that Mr. Doyle was irresisti- 
 bly attracted toward him. There seemed to be 
 something more important than courtesy behind 
 his affability, and the modulations of his voice 
 appeared to speak for a mind full of tenderness 
 and toleration toward all humanity. 
 
 One morning, as the two sat under an awning 
 on the upper deck, Doyle's companion waved his 
 hand toward the horizon. "To the left of the 
 flagstaff there you may see the northern portion 
 of the Bermudas." 
 
 "I see nothing that looks like land," replied 
 Doyle. 
 
 " Perhaps not. But if you were to follow the 
 sea for a few years, the land line would be plain 
 to you. Look along the line of the horizon ; can't 
 you see a vague, misty marking of fog-colour a 
 thin streak ? " 
 
 " I suppose I could bring myself to imagine I 
 saw it," responded Doyle, laughing. 
 
 " Well, it will be plain to you in half an hour." 
 
 "I suppose, then, I shall see the last of you 
 to-day, and I am really sorry," remarked Doyle. 
 
 " Sorry ! " exclaimed his companion. He clasped 
 his hands behind his head, leaned back in his chair, 
 and regarded Doyle with a fixed and searching 
 
 gaze. 
 
 289 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 " Yes, truly sorry," replied Doyle. " I don't 
 know whether you have noticed it or not, but all 
 the passengers on this boat regard me with an air 
 of suspicion; anyhow, I have been thrown back 
 upon you for companionship, and your conversa- 
 tion has been of great help to me. I have made 
 many serious mistakes, and somehow you have 
 held them up before me. Of course you didn't 
 intend it. My mother was a deeply religious 
 woman, but I had forgotten all about her teach- 
 ings until I came to associate with you." 
 
 " Come, now ! I hope I haven't been preach- 
 ing to you," cried his companion, shaking with 
 laughter. 
 
 " No, oh, no ! " protested Doyle. " That is the 
 beauty of it ; you haven't said a word that even a 
 mocker could twist into cant. But somehow " 
 he paused as if feeling for a word " well, I can't 
 explain it. But I have been hopelessly wrong in 
 my methods, and I am in the wrong business." 
 
 "Well, that is a good beginning," remarked his 
 companion, with a cheerful smile. " Caution takes 
 command when we begin to distrust ourselves. It 
 is then that discretion finds an opening, and discre- 
 tion is closely related to virtue. It is a quality you 
 can't twist or change. A thief may be cautious, 
 but he never can be discreet. The old saying, 
 ' Discretion is the better part of valour,' has a very 
 
 290 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 vivid meaning when it is taken literally. Your 
 really valorous man is always discreet." 
 
 " Well, I have made up my mind to retire from 
 the detective business," said Doyle, with a sigh. 
 " My unknown friend, McCarthy, has taught me 
 a lesson. I am going back to New York and will 
 try to serve my country in some capacity where I 
 can be more useful. No more secret service for 
 me." 
 
 " Yet I judge from all you have said, that you 
 have information which would lead to the undoing 
 of this McCarthy." 
 
 "Well, he'll never be bothered by me or my 
 information," exclaimed Doyle, emphatically. 
 
 " Now that statement needs explanation," said 
 the other, leaning forward with an appearance of 
 interest. 
 
 "Why, don't you see that the man has been 
 uncommonly kind to me ? It was a contest as to 
 which should hang the other. If we had captured 
 him, he would have been hanged without a doubt. 
 Now, he did capture me, and instead of dropping 
 me into the bay or transporting me back to Rich- 
 mond, he has taken this course. I am truly grate- 
 ful to the man, and I intend to tell him so when I 
 get back to New York." 
 
 "Perhaps your gratitude is premature," remarked 
 the other, dryly. 
 
 291 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 '* How can that be ? " inquired Doyle. " He 
 had me completely in his power, and here I am." 
 
 " That is true ; here you are." This gentleman, 
 whom the Captain had called Webb, regarded 
 Doyle with a curious stare, as if he were studying 
 a new problem. 
 
 " Yes, and life takes on a new kind of tone when 
 a fellow goes through such an experience as mine. 
 It gives a man something to think about. Any- 
 how, it has given me some new views." He paused 
 and looked out over the slowly heaving sea. " Do 
 you know McCarthy ? " he asked after a while. 
 
 " Well, I have never actually seen the man face 
 to face, but I know of him. He has a little girl of 
 whom I am very fond. She is just jumping into 
 her teens, using the years as a skipping rope. 
 She is a very charming child." 
 
 "And just think," exclaimed Doyle, bringing 
 his fist down on his knee ; " if my plan had car- 
 ried, that child would have been an orphan ! " 
 
 "An orphan indeed," said his companion, 
 gravely. " Her mother is dead." Doyle jumped 
 from his chair, and walked up and down excitedly. 
 " Tut, man ! " remarked his companion, " order a 
 brandy-and-soda ; your experience has unnerved 
 you." 
 
 " You were never more mistaken in your life," 
 exclaimed the other. " I am stronger now than 
 
 292 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 I ever was ; I know what I'm about. I tell you, 
 when you have been tied and gagged, and placed 
 in a box and left in the dark in more than one 
 sense, not knowing what moment you are to lose 
 your life, you have time to do a lot of hard think- 
 ing. Now, I must have been in that box about 
 eight hours, and I saw then, as I never could have 
 seen but for that experience, how I had been at 
 outs with the plainest suggestions of duty. I tell 
 you, I seemed to be at a theatre where I was watch- 
 ing myself perform as a kind of comical heavy 
 villain, if there is such a thing." 
 
 The two men watched the island slowly rise out 
 of the sea until it presented a picture fair to the 
 eye. They were silent for some time. Presently 
 Doyle's companion spoke : 
 
 " And so you've made up your mind to seek out 
 this Mr. McCarthy, and present him your compli- 
 ments?" 
 
 " Yes, I have," replied Doyle, emphatically. " I 
 know he'll think I'm a fool, and he'll not believe 
 me." 
 
 " Now don't prejudge the man," the other pro- 
 tested. 
 
 " If I could explain my feelings to him as freely 
 as I can to you, and be as sure of his apprecia- 
 tion and sympathy as I am of yours, it would be 
 different." 
 
 293 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 " But are you sure of mine ? " 
 
 "Why, certainly!" exclaimed Doyle. "That 
 is why I regret to bid you good-by." 
 
 " Perhaps I shall be able to transact my busi- 
 ness in time to return with the boat. Indeed, I 
 think it is more than probable. Will you go ashore 
 with me ? " 
 
 " No," replied Doyle. " I'll hang around the 
 boat, and watch and hope for your return." 
 
 " Well, in any event, I shall return to bid you 
 good-by," said the other. 
 
 When the boat had been made fast to the 
 landing, the passengers hurried ashore. Doyle 
 observed that every one of them seized an 
 opportunity to shake hands with the man to 
 whom he had talked so fully. And he wondered 
 why. 
 
 The wharf at which the Sarah Bolton lay soon 
 became the centre of great activity. As fast as 
 the freight was unloaded and carried away, fresh 
 freight arrived, and it continued to accumulate at 
 a great rate. It was a curious conglomeration, 
 representing hundreds of the manifold forms of 
 appetite and desire. But Doyle noted that there 
 was one class of freight which occupied a section 
 of the wharf all by itself. It was composed of 
 boxes or cases, long and stout, and seemed to call 
 for careful handling, partly on account of its 
 
 294 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 weight, and partly on account of its quality, for, 
 though it seemed to be heavy, in comparison with 
 the size of the cases, it was cautiously lowered to 
 the floor of the wharf. Doyle concluded that these 
 boxes contained arms and ammunition, and he 
 judged that they had been purchased by the Gov- 
 ernment to arm new troops called out by Mr. 
 Lincoln; but he had never heard that Bermuda 
 manufactured munitions of war. Somehow the 
 matter gave rise to a wonder which was so mild 
 that it was soon forgotten in the contemplation of 
 his own position and purposes. 
 
 Dinner time came, and then supper; but the 
 stevedores on the wharf continued to convey 
 freight into the boat until long after dark, and 
 they were at it when Doyle fell asleep. When 
 he awoke the next morning the boat was in mo- 
 tion, and the idea that he was on his way back to 
 New York gave him a feeling of tranquillity to 
 which he had been a stranger for many long 
 hours. 
 
 Then he suddenly remembered that his new 
 
 friend had not returned to tell him good-by, and 
 
 as the thought occurred to him, the door of his 
 
 stateroom opened, and the man he was thinking 
 
 295 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 about put his head in and gave him a cheerful 
 good morning. 
 
 " I was just thinking about you," said Doyle, 
 "and I'm glad it's good morning, and not good-by." 
 
 "Why, so am I," responded the other. "I 
 looked in to see if you were still with us, and to 
 say that I'll be very busy on the return trip, but 
 to-morrow afternoon I want to have some conver- 
 sation with you." With that he took his leave. 
 
 A little later Doyle, in strolling about the saloon 
 deck, saw his friend in close consultation with the 
 Captain. The two were sitting at a small table in 
 the Captain's cabin, and it could be seen at a glance 
 that a noticeable change had come over the two 
 men. On the table before them there lay a map, 
 or diagram of some description. The Captain of 
 the vessel no longer had an air of authority ; he 
 was deference itself; whereas the man who had 
 drawn Mr. Doyle to him seemed to be in com- 
 mand. He opened the door connecting the cabin 
 with the pilot-house. 
 
 " What is the course ? " he asked. Doyle could 
 not hear the reply of the man at the wheel, but 
 he heard the command, " Bear to the south two 
 points." 
 
 At Doyle's feet the shadows slowly shifted, and 
 then hung steady, and a moment's observation 
 showed him that the boat was headed in a south- 
 296 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 westerly direction. This gave him a cud to chew 
 on. The boat was certainly not headed in the 
 direction of New York. However, he resolved 
 not to allow himself to be concerned with a fact 
 which might turn out to have the simplest explana- 
 tion in the world. 
 
 The day wore on, and Doyle, when he had fin- 
 ished his dinner, noticed that the sun was beginning 
 to cast shadows that fell from left to right. This 
 meant, therefore, that the course of the boat had 
 been changed to a point a little west of north. 
 Well, he knew nothing about navigation, and he 
 did not permit his curiosity to reach the pitch of 
 inquisitiveness. Yet he had nothing to do but 
 ruminate over such trifles, for with the exception 
 of the man to whom he had so suddenly become 
 attached, he was the only passenger on the boat. 
 He leaned back in one of the easy chairs in the 
 saloon, and was soon sound asleep. When he 
 awoke the sun hung low and red on the horizon, 
 and the boat seemed to be headed right for the 
 glowing orb. On a chair not far away sat his 
 travelling companion, apparently lost in thought. 
 He roused himself and spoke when Doyle stirred. 
 
 " Ah, you have had a most refreshing nap," he 
 said, with a smile. 
 
 "Yes, indeed," answered Doyle. "They say it's 
 a sign of health for a man to fall asleep when he's 
 
 29? 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 not sleepy. I've been awake several moments 
 watching your face. I was trying to find out 
 why it is that I can't call you by your name ? I 
 hope you will take no offence." 
 
 "Why, certainly not," said the other. "The 
 reason you don't call me by my name is because 
 you don't know it." 
 
 "Well, didn't the Captain say your name was 
 Webb ? " Doyle asked. 
 
 " I am inclined to think he did," remarked the 
 other. "But no doubt that was due to the fact 
 that in the excitement created in his mind by your 
 astonishing narrative he made a slip of the tongue." 
 
 "Anyhow, I'm glad Webb is not your name, 
 though I don't know why. It doesn't seem to fit 
 you." 
 
 "When the proper moment arrives, I'll intro- 
 duce myself with a flourish. Just at present, how- 
 ever, we must talk of more important matters. 
 We are now heading for sunset. Have you any 
 idea of our destination, or of yours ? " Doyle 
 shook his head. "Well, that is an additional 
 reason why the secret service should have small 
 charms for you. Perhaps you could make a 
 shrewd guess." 
 
 Like a flash the truth dawned on Doyle. " We 
 are on a blockade runner ! " he exclaimed. 
 
 " You have hit it the first time. And now, hav* 
 398 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 ing the key to the situation, the whole scheme of 
 Captain McCarthy with respect to you must be 
 clear to your mind." 
 
 " It is perfectly clear," replied Doyle. " He is 
 for sending me back to Richmond, where a halter 
 probably awaits me. Well, all is fair in love and 
 war," he said, with a smile. " I thought it very 
 queer that the man who planned my departure 
 with such shrewd simplicity should give me an 
 opportunity to place my information in the hands 
 of others. And you are Captain McCarthy's 
 agent ? " 
 
 " No, not his agent ; and yet I am acting for 
 him. Your case is in my hands absolutely, and I 
 propose, if I can, to transfer it to yours. This 
 Captain McCarthy, I am told, has never yet sent 
 a man to the gallows. He is said to believe that 
 the service in which he is engaged does not call 
 for the shedding of blood or the taking of life, 
 save in an extreme emergency. Trusting to that, 
 I shall permit you to dispose of your own case." 
 
 " You are a rebel excuse me a Confederate 
 sympathiser?" suggested Doyle. 
 
 " Don't halt at words," replied the other. " So 
 many good causes have been branded as rebellions, 
 and so many great men have been called rebels, 
 that I rather enjoy the name. There is a whiff of 
 liberty and independence about it. Yes, I am a 
 299 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 rebel, and I am in the service of rebel author- 
 ities." 
 
 "What alternative do you suggest?" inquired 
 Doyle. 
 
 "There are at least two. To-night, or early 
 to-morrow morning, when we make our run past 
 the war-vessels, I can provide you with a boat, 
 and you will have no difficulty in reaching one of 
 the three. On the other hand, you were saying 
 the other day that you contemplated a change; 
 you suggested that your present business had 
 grown irksome; and you were generous enough 
 to express a feeling of gratification that the man 
 you had selected for a victim had apparently 
 restrained his hand with respect to you." 
 
 " But that was when I had deluded myself into 
 the belief that he had shortened his arm in my 
 favour. As you have just told me, he has a longer 
 reach than I supposed." 
 
 "Precisely. But while I have never met the 
 man face to face, I am familiar with those who 
 know his nature ; and I can say to vou in all sin- 
 cerity that he has no real desire to sacrifice you 
 on the point of your mistakes." 
 
 " But he would only be carrying out his duty," 
 remarked Doyle. 
 
 " One form of it, certainly," responded the other. 
 "There is th^ case of Mr. Webb, who joined you 
 
 300 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 in the enterprise. He is as free to-day as I am. 
 He is on parole." 
 
 "That is queer," said Doyle. "Why is it that 
 Captain McCarthy doesn't deal impartially ? " 
 
 " The truth is," the other answered, " this man 
 McCarthy is a great booby. I tell you confiden- 
 tially. In one aspect of his nature he is a perfect 
 child. In another aspect he is somewhat grim 
 so his friends say. He is something of a casuist, 
 too, and he is never happier than when engaged 
 in applying general moral principles to particular 
 cases. Yours, for instance, probably violated one 
 of his pet theories. You were receiving a salary 
 from the Confederate authorities and betraying its 
 secrets to its enemies ; you suggested the kidnap- 
 ping of Mr. Lincoln to an enthusiastic young man, 
 and tried to destroy him; and, finally, you took 
 advantage of your position to get some document- 
 ary information in regard to McCarthy's plans and 
 purposes. I have the papers here." 
 
 "Well, I'll tell you frankly," responded Doyle, 
 "that young fellow Bethune treated me very hand- 
 somely in Washington, and he took such high 
 ground in the matter that he set me to thinking. 
 And then, as I told you, my experience in that box 
 gave me an opportunity to think. My desire for 
 advancement, it seemed, had blotted out the 
 well, the amenities " 
 
 301 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 " Oh, call them principles the word will not 
 suffocate you ! " cried the other, with some show 
 of impatience. 
 
 " Yes, the principles that should mark out one's 
 line of action," assented Doyle. 
 
 "And yet, you have this excuse that in the 
 business in which you were engaged, there is no 
 clear boundary line between what is fair, and right, 
 and proper, unless one is at some pains to sift each 
 proposition as it arises. It is quite a problem." 
 
 " Well," said Doyle, " I had made up my mind, 
 before I discovered your mission, to try some other 
 line of work. But under the circumstances, I'll 
 say nothing more on that subject. You have your 
 duty to perform. I hope you find it a little more 
 disagreeable than you thought, for I have come to 
 like you." 
 
 " I doubt if an executioner ever had so fine a 
 compliment," remarked the other, with a friendly 
 smile and gesture. 
 
 The two men sat and talked together on various 
 topics for some time. Though it was now dark, 
 no lamps had been lit. The mate came into the 
 saloon with a lantern and announced that supper 
 was ready ; and he led the way to the galley. 
 
 " We shall have to make it a trifle uncomforta- 
 ble for you," said Doyle's companion. " We shall 
 not be within sight of the Carolina coast until after 
 302 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 midnight, yet we cannot afford to illuminate the 
 vessel." 
 
 " Don't talk about comfort," replied Doyle. " In 
 the course of a very few hours, if matters go well 
 with you, I shall remember the galley here as the 
 centre of luxury and comfort. If you please, I'll 
 take my coffee in a tin cup." 
 
 " Why, then, so will I," said the other, with a 
 smile. " Who knows what may happen ? The 
 trip is an experiment. The Captain has run into 
 Charleston and into Norfolk, but, at my request, 
 he is to try Wilmington. I am familiar with the 
 channel there, which has its peculiarities, and I 
 am of the opinion that your friends on the Federal 
 warships are not prepared for an invasion of this 
 sort, although more than one vessel has slipped 
 in and out. In the Captain's cabin you will find 
 light enough to read by, and you are welcome to 
 use it." 
 
 When Doyle had groped his way to the upper 
 deck he found a change in the atmospheric condi- 
 tions. A raw wind was blowing from the north- 
 west, bringing with it a stinging rain. He went 
 into the Captain's cabin, and tried hard to amuse 
 himself with the handful of books he found there. 
 Among these were " Pelayo," by William Gilmore 
 Simms, in two volumes ; Poems by James Brooks 
 and his brother, and "The Green Mantle of 
 303 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 Venice." This last he had never seen before v 
 and he began to read the gruesome thing. The 
 story that gave the title to the book was the first 
 and the longest, and when he had come to the end 
 of it, he shivered and closed the volume. He had 
 never read anything so grim and ghastly. His 
 feelings called loudly for companionship, and he 
 sought it in the pilot-house. 
 
 " We are passing Smith's Island," said a voice, 
 which Doyle recognised as that of the gentleman 
 who was playing such an important part in his 
 career. The voice came from outside the pilot- 
 house. They had passed two of the blockading 
 vessels. 
 
 " A rocket's gone up behind us," cried the Cap- 
 tain from the bridge. 
 
 A moment later another rocket went up far 
 ahead and to the right 
 
 In half an hour the man at the wheel was told 
 to signal for full speed, and the Sarah Bolton, 
 which had now become The Morning Star, ran by 
 the grim sentinel which was lying near the entrance 
 of the Northern Channel. 
 
 In no long time, and without further incident, 
 The Morning Star reached Wilmington. Doyle, 
 determined to make the best of a bad situation, 
 went to bed and dreamed of " The Green Mantle 
 of Venice." When he awoke it was daylight, 
 
 3=4 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 but he made no movement to arise. He was sur- 
 prised to find how calmly a man can face the 
 worst when he knows that it is inevitable. He 
 tried to account for this, and so fell asleep again, 
 and the sun was high when he awoke from his 
 morning nap. He heard a voice calling from 
 the wharf : 
 
 " Hey, there ! Is Captain McCarthy aboard ? " 
 
 Captain McCarthy! Doyle did not hear the 
 reply. He did not listen. He had indulged in a 
 hope that his friend, his companion on the voyage, 
 would, at the last moment, employ some influence 
 powerful enough to save him from the gallows. 
 He had supposed that this hope was only a faint 
 one ; but now he knew how strong it had been. 
 For an instant his courage died away completely. 
 He held up his hand and it was shaking ; his lips 
 were dry. He made no effort to rise from his 
 bunk. 
 
 He heard the voices of men, as they approached 
 the shaded portion of the deck, which was right at 
 his stateroom window. Whoever the men might 
 be, they placed their chairs so that he could hear 
 every word they said, and he lay with his hands 
 clasped behind his head, listening to the most 
 interesting conversation that had ever reached his 
 ears. 
 
 " I heard you were on the boat and I hurried 
 35 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 down to give you a piece of information that may 
 be worth something to you. We had a man in one 
 of the departments named Phil Doyle. He had 
 the run of the whole business, and everybody 
 thought he was all right; why, he was a ranker 
 secesh in his talk than Bob Toombs. But he was 
 a spy ; yes, sir, a Yankee spy, and now he's gone ! 
 Disappeared just as though the ground had opened 
 and swallowed him ; and he carried away with him 
 some of the most valuable papers from the secret 
 archives of the Government. Yes, sir! The 
 matter's been hushed up so the general public 
 won't get hold of it ; but you'd better believe the 
 Government is stirred up over it. That's why I'm 
 here now. Some one has been sent to every sea- 
 port town in the South. They believe in Rich- 
 mond that he'll go to one of these towns and hire 
 a couple of negroes to row him out to one of 
 the Yankee ships. 
 
 " You may laugh," continued the speaker, though 
 Doyle had heard no sound of laughter, " but if 
 you don't keep both eyes open Phil Doyle will put 
 a big finger in your pie." Evidently the silent 
 person had made some gesture expressive of doubt 
 or disdain, for the man who was doing all the 
 talking raised his voice and spoke with more ear- 
 nestness. " Oh, I know you're a good one, Cap- 
 tain, we all know that, but Doyle's a mighty 
 
 306 
 
slick duck. What if I were to tell you that 
 among the papers he carted off (he must have 
 taken a bushel from the fuss they've been making) 
 he had all the records relating to your work, an 
 outline of your general plan, and a list of the 
 names of the men who are working under you ? 
 
 "Well, you may shake your head as hard as 
 you please, Captain McCarthy, but Phil Doyle has 
 the record, and he's liable to make the. Yankee 
 climate mighty hot for you if you don't mind your 
 eye. You don't seem to believe it," said the 
 speaker, with a touch of distress in his voice, " but 
 I tell you it's so." 
 
 "And I tell you," answered Captain McCarthy, 
 speaking for the first time, " that you people in 
 Richmond are labouring under a serious misappre- 
 hension." 
 
 The sound of Captain McCarthy's voice gave 
 Doyle a shock of surprise that caused his heart to 
 jump in his throat. The firm, level tones, the 
 clear enunciation, and the mild, mellowing touch 
 of Irish accent were perfectly familiar. He had 
 heard that voice every day during his involuntary 
 voyage. Captain McCarthy had been his travel- 
 ling companion. 
 
 " Misapprehension, Captain ? " cried the other 
 in astonishment ; " why, what can you mean ? " 
 
 " Why, with respect to Mr. Doyle. I am toler- 
 307 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 ably well acquainted with that gentleman, and 1 
 am convinced he took no papers beyond the 
 records referring to my work and plans. And in 
 doing that, he did me a real gervice." 
 
 " A service ? " cried the other. 
 
 " A real service," persisted Captain McCarthy. 
 " He opened my eyes to the loose methods that 
 are prevalent in the departments at Richmond. If 
 those records and documents had fallen into other 
 hands, I would not be here to-day." 
 
 In that statement Doyle thought he found a 
 grim satire on his own bungling, and he smiled 
 over it 
 
 " But he has the papers all the same," said the 
 other, almost triumphantly, " and he's sure to use 
 them against you." 
 
 "On the contrary," remarked Captain Mc- 
 Carthy, "I have the papers in my own posses- 
 sion." 
 
 "Captain McCarthy," said the other, he evi- 
 dently arose from his chair, " allow me to take 
 off my hat to you." 
 
 " No flourishes, my friend. Here are the docu- 
 ments; take them in your hands and examine 
 them, and when you return to Richmond, reassure 
 my friends by the account you will give. No, I'll 
 not return the papers. But for Mr. Doyle, they 
 would still be exposed in the departments; in 
 
 308 
 
THE WHIMS OF CAPTAIN MCCARTHY 
 
 fetching them away he has done me a signal ser 
 vice. And there's another matter if Mr. Doyle 
 has carried away any documents besides these, 
 they will be duly returned by a trustworthy mes- 
 senger." 
 
 " Then all this fuss is about nothing ? " 
 
 "No, it is about something. Mr. Doyle no 
 doubt learned some facts from the inside that 
 make it desirable for a few individuals to close his 
 mouth. At least two of these persons are not 
 friendly to me. Now when you return, my 
 friend, publish it throughout the departments that 
 McCarthy declared to you that Mr. Doyle's mouth 
 will not be closed, and that some interesting facts 
 will get into the papers if certain persons do not 
 cease their meddling with affairs under my con- 
 trol." 
 
 " Oh, I see ! " exclaimed the other. " Captain 
 McCarthy, may I take off my hat again ? " 
 
 " Certainly, my friend, if your head is too warm." 
 
 A long silence was broken by the person who 
 had called to see Captain McCarthy. " You are 
 not going to Richmond then ? " 
 
 "Not if you will kindly give my friends an 
 account of our conversation. I had intended to 
 go, but you can save me the journey." 
 
 " With the greatest pleasure in the world, Cap- 
 tain. But your friends will be disappointed." 
 309 
 
ON THE WING OF OCCASIONS 
 
 " If no worse disappointment befalls them, they 
 will have few troubles in this world, and this is the 
 lot to which my affection commends them." 
 
 "Well, I must rush off a despatch," said the 
 other. " How shall I put it ? " 
 
 "Just say : * Doyle was with McCarthy in New 
 York five days ago.' That will cover the 
 ground." 
 
 The two men went down to the main deck, and 
 Mr. Doyle arose and dressed himself very hur- 
 riedly. There was much in his mind for which 
 he could not find words. He was not elated over 
 what seemed to be his escape ; he was simply re- 
 joicing over the fact that his travelling companion, 
 to whom he had become very much attached, and 
 Captain McCarthy were one and the same indi- 
 vidual; and he was grateful, as one friend is to 
 another, for his singular escape from a fate which 
 he himself had courted. He thought of a thousand 
 things to say when he should meet his friend, but 
 what he did say was very tame and commonplace. 
 
 " Captain McCarthy, you have been very good 
 to me." 
 
 " 'Twas a mere whim of mine," returned the 
 other, with a quizzical expression in his face, "a 
 desire to please my little girl." But Doyle knew 
 by the hearty grip the Captain gave him that he 
 had been saved by something more than a whim. 
 
 310