"
"Now I know you're trying to be funny. As I'm going about my business as
fast as I can, I'll leave you here."
"I like you so well that I can't bear to see you go. Don't move.
My rifle covers your heart exactly and you are not more than ten feet
away. I shall have no possible need of the shotgun. Keep your hands
away from your belt. You're in a dangerous position, Mr. Haskell."
"I believe you're an infernal rebel."
"Take out the objectionable adjective 'infernal' and you're right.
Keep those hands still, I tell you."
"What do you want?"
"Your dispatches! Oh, I must have 'em. Unbutton your coat and waistcoat
and hand 'em to me at once. I hate to take human life, but war demands a
terrible service, and I mean what I say!"
His voice rang with determination. The man slowly unbuttoned his
waistcoat and took out a folded dispatch.
"Put it on the ground in front of you. That's right, and don't you reach
for it again. Now, lay your canteen beside it!"
"What in thunder do you want with my canteen? It's empty!"
"I can fill it again. This is a well watered country. That's right;
put it beside the dispatch. Now you walk about one hundred yards to the
right with your back to me.
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