It was the battle flag of the Confederacy flashing the answer to
the Northern cheer.




CHAPTER V

"Burgess!"

"Sir?"

Berkley sat up in bed and viewed his environment with disgust.

"These new lodgings would make a fair kennel, wouldn't they,
Burgess?--if a man isn't too particular about his dog."

The servant entered with a nasty smirk. "Yes, sir; I seen a rat
last night."

"He's not the only one, is he, Burgess," yawned Berkley. "Oh,
hell! I've got to dress. Did you paint that bathtub? I guess you
did, the place reeks like a paint shop. Anyway, it kills less
desirable aromas. Where's the water?"

He swung his symmetrical body to the bed's edge, dropped lightly to
the carpet, unloosed his night robe, and stretched himself.

"Was I very drunk, Burgess?"