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Altsheler, Joseph A. (Joseph Alexander), 1862-1919

"A Story of the Western Crisis"

I won't quarrel with you."
"I won't give you a chance, George. I'm through. But remember that
while I'm red hot for the Union, I was born south of the Ohio River
myself, and I have lots of sympathy for the people against whom I'm
fighting."
"For the matter of that, so've I, Dick, and I was born north of the Ohio
River. But I'm getting tremendously hungry. I hope that cook will
hurry."
They were called soon, and eight officers sat at the table. The cook
himself served them. Miss Woodville had vanished, and not a servant was
visible about the great house. Despite their hunger and the good quality
of the food the group felt constraint. The feeling that they were
intruders, in a sense brigands, was forced upon them. Dick was sure
that the old man with the great bald head was swearing fiercely and
incessantly under his breath.
The dining-room was a large and splendid apartment, and the silver still
lay upon the great mahogany sideboard. The little city, now the camp
of an overwhelming army, had settled into silence, and the twilight was
coming.


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