"Lige," he says, "this is the first time to my knowledge."

"I smoked too many last night," says the Captain. The Colonel sat down,
with his feet against the mantel, too full of affairs to take much notice
of Mr. Brent's apathy.

"The Yanks have taken the first trick--that's sure," he said. "But I
think we'll laugh last, Jinny. Jefferson City isn't precisely quiet. The
state has got more militia, or will have more militia in a day or two. We
won't miss the thousand they stole in Camp Jackson. They're organizing up
there. And I've got a few commissions right here," and he tapped his
pocket.

"Pa," said Virginia, "did you volunteer?"

The Colonel laughed.

"The Governor wouldn't have me," he answered. "He said I was more good
here in St. Louis. I'll go later. What's this I hear about Clarence?"

Virginia related the occurrences of Saturday. The Colonel listened with
many exclamations, slapping his knee from time to time as she proceeded.

"By gum!" he cried, when she had finished, "the boy has it in him, after
all! They can't hold him a day--can they, Lige?" (No answer from the
Captain, who is eating his breakfast in silence.) "All that we have to do
is to go for Worington and get a habeas corpus from the United States
District Court. Come on, Lige." The Captain got up excitedly, his face
purple.