“Pa,” said Virginia, “did you volunteer?”

The Colonel laughed.

“The Governor wouldn’t have me,” he answered.  “He said I was more good here in St. Louis.  I’ll go later.  What’s this I hear about Clarence?”

Virginia related the occurrences of Saturday.  The Colonel listened with many exclamations, slapping his knee from time to time as she proceeded.

“By gum!” he cried, when she had finished, “the boy has it in him, after all!  They can’t hold him a day—­can they, Lige?” (No answer from the Captain, who is eating his breakfast in silence.) “All that we have to do is to go for Worington and get a habeas corpus from the United States District Court.  Come on, Lige.”  The Captain got up excitedly, his face purple.

“I reckon you’ll have to excuse me, Colonel,” he said.  “There’s a cargo on my boat which has got to come off.”  And without more ado he left the room.  In consternation they heard the front door close behind him.  And yet, neither father nor daughter dared in that hour add to the trial of the other by speaking out the dread that was in their hearts.  The Colonel smoked for a while, not a word escaping him, and then he patted Virginia’s cheek.

“I reckon I’ll run over and see Russell, Jinny,” he said, striving to be cheerful.  “We must get the boy out.  I’ll see a lawyer.”  He stopped abruptly in the hall and pressed his hand to his forehead.  “My God,” he whispered to himself, “if I could only go to Silas!”

The good Colonel got Mr. Russell, and they went to Mr. Worington, Mrs. Colfax’s lawyer, of whose politics it is not necessary to speak.  There was plenty of excitement around the Government building where his Honor issued the writ.  There lacked not gentlemen of influence who went with Mr. Russell and Colonel Carvel and the lawyer and the Commissioner to the Arsenal.  They were admitted to the presence of the indomitable Lyon, who informed them that Captain Colfax was a prisoner of war, and, since the arsenal was Government property, not in the state.  The Commissioner thereupon attested the affidavit to Colonel Carvel, and thus the application for the writ was made legal.

These things the Colonel reported to Virginia; and to Mrs. Colfax, who received them with red eyes and a thousand queries as to whether that Yankee ruffian would pay any attention to the Sovereign law which he pretended to uphold; whether the Marshal would not be cast over the Arsenal wall by the slack of his raiment when he went to serve the writ.  This was not the language, but the purport, of the lady’s questions.  Colonel Carvel had made but a light breakfast:  he had had no dinner, and little rest on the train.  But he answered his sister-in-law with unfailing courtesy.  He was too honest to express a hope which he did not feel.  He had returned that evening to a dreary household.  During the day the servants had straggled in from Bellegarde, and Virginia had had prepared those dishes which her