“It is too bad; but I don’t see what you are going to do about it. I’ve already got my walking papers. The incident is closed as far as I am concerned.”
“To give us an active post in exchange for the Arsenal is not to do us a kindness. We’ve got used to you gentlemen of the ordnance. Your repose has been an inspiration to the community.”
“No irony! The town has always been so good to me and mine that we’ve had no chance for repose.”
“But the Spanish War passed over and never touched you. I don’t believe the powers at Washington knew you were here.”
“Oh yes, they did. They wired me every few hours to count the old guns in the storehouse, until I knew every piece of that old scrap iron by heart. If we’d used those old guns in that war, the row with Spain would have been on a more equal basis.”
“I suppose it would,” said Merriam, who was thinking of something else. “But I’m sorry you’re going to leave. We never quite settled that little question about Shiloh; and I’m convinced that you’re wrong about the Fitz-John Porter case.”
“Well, posterity will settle those questions without us. And would you mind walking over to the office with me--”
“Bless me, I must be going! This was an unpardonable hour for a call.”
“Not in the least; only I’ve another caller over there--Pollock, of the quartermaster’s department, who has been sent out to take charge of the new post site. He’s a nice chap; you must know him.”
“I’ll be very glad, some other time,” said Merriam. “Which way does he come from?”
“He’s a southern boy. Father was a Johnny Reb. Another sign that the war is over and the hatchet buried.”
“Pollock, did you say? Tennessee family? I seem to remember the name.”
“I think so. Yes. I’m sure. I looked him up in the register.”
Merriam tapped his riding boot with the whip he had kept in his hand.
“Yes; the war’s over,” he said, “our war. There’s been another since, but it’s preposterous to call that Spanish dress-parade and target practice war.”
The two men went out together, and Major Congrieve twitted Merriam about the thoroughbred’s pedigree.
“I’ll see you again before you go. Luncheon to-morrow at the Tippecanoe Club? That is well. Good morning!”
As Merriam rode out toward the street, Captain Pollock came from one of the storehouses and walked briskly across the grounds in the direction of the office. A curve in the path brought him face to face with Rodney Merriam, who saluted him with his right hand.