Dick was the last to go out, and he said to the old lion who lay wounded in the bed: "Colonel Woodville, I've met your nephew, Victor." He did not notice that the old man whitened and that the hand now lying upon the cover clenched suddenly.
"You have ?" growled Colonel Woodville, "and how does it happen that you and my nephew have anything in common ?" "I could scarcely put it that way," replied Dick, refusing to be angered, "unless you call an encounter with fists something in common.
He and I had a great fight at his father's plantation of Bellevue." "He might have been in a better business, taking part in a common brawl with a common Yankee." "But, sir, while I may be common, I'm not a Yankee.

I was born and grew up south of the Ohio River in Kentucky." "Then you're a traitor.

All you Kentuckians ought to be fighting with us." "Difference of opinion, but I hope your nephew is well." The deep eyes under the thick white thatch glared in a manner that Dick considered wholly unnecessary.

But Colonel Woodville made no reply, merely turning his face to the wall as if he were weary.
Dick hurried into the hall, closing the door gently behind him.

The others, not missing him, were already some yards away, and he quickly rejoined Pennington and Warner.