"What is this, gentlemen?--a court martial? Captain Ireton is my
friend, and as true a patriot as ever drew breath. What is your charge?"
Colonel Sevier, in whose command Richard and the old borderer had fought
in the hilltop battle, undertook to explain. I stood self-confessed as
the bearer of despatches from Lord Cornwallis to Major Ferguson, he
said, and I had claimed that the orders had been so altered as to delay
the major's retreat and so to bring on the battle. But they had just
found Lord Cornwallis's letter in my pocket, still sealed and
undelivered. And the tenor of it was precisely opposite to that of an
order calculated to delay the major's march, as Mr. Jennifer could see
if he would read it.
While Sevier was talking, the old borderer was fumbling in the breast of
his hunting-shirt, and now he produced a packet of papers tied about
with red tape.
"'Pears to me like you Injun-killers from t'other side o' the mounting
is in a mighty hot sweat to hang somebody," he said, as coolly as if he
were addressing a mob of underlings. "Here's a mess o' billy-doos with
Lord Cornwallis's name to 'em that I found 'mongst Major Ferguson's
leavings. If you'll look 'em over, maybe you'll find out, immejitly _if_
not sooner, that Cap'n John here is telling ye the plumb truth."
The papers were examined hastily, and presently John Sevier lighted upon
the despatch I had carried and delivered. Thereat the colonels put their
heads together; and then my case was re-opened, with Sevier as
spokesman.
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