"Right or wrong," the officer retorted, "I have to carry out my orders,
not reason about them. Here, sergeant, let three men hold the horses and
get to work on this fence."

As the sergeant advanced and put his hand on the top layer of the heavy
snake-fence, the Elder levelled his shot-gun and said:

"Ef you pull down that bar I'll shoot."

The sergeant took his hand from the bar quickly, and turned to his
commander as if awaiting further instructions.

"Mr. Conklin," exclaimed the lieutenant, moving forward, "this is pure
foolishness; we're twelve to one, and we're only soldiers and have to
obey orders. I'm sorry, but I must do my duty."

"That's so," said the Elder, lowering his gun deliberately. "That's so,
I guess. You hev your duty--p'r'aps I hev mine. 'Tain't my business to
teach you yours."

For a moment the lieutenant seemed to be undecided; then he spoke:

"Half-a-dozen of you advance and cover him with your rifles. Now, Mr.
Conklin, if you resist you must take the consequences. Rebellion against
the United States Government don't generally turn out well--for the
rebel. Sergeant, down with the bar."

The Elder stood as if he had not heard what had been said to him, but
when the sergeant laid hold of the bar, the shot-gun went up again to
the old man's shoulder, and he said: