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“‘It’s your only chance,’ said Doc; ‘don’t quarrel with it. What did your own country do for you?’

“It was only two days before the morning I was to be shot, when Doc Millikin came around again.

“‘All right, Yank,’ says he. ‘Help’s come. The Confederate States of America is going to apply for your release. The representatives of the government arrived on a fruit-steamer last night.’

“‘Bully!’ says I–‘bully for you, Doc! I suppose it’s marines with a Gatling. I’m going to love your country all I can for this.’

“‘Negotiations,’ says old Doc, ‘will be opened between the two governments at once. You will know later to-day if they are successful.’

“About four in the afternoon a soldier in red trousers brings a paper round to the jail, and they unlocks the door and I walks out. The guard at the door bows and I bows, and I steps into the grass and wades around to Doc Millikin’s shack.

“Doc was sitting in his hammock playing ‘Dixie,’ soft and low and out of tune, on his flute. I interrupted him at ‘Look away! look away!’ and shook his hand for five minutes.

“‘I never thought,’ says Doc, taking a chew fretfully, ‘that I’d ever try to save any blame Yank’s life. But, Mr. O’Keefe, I don’t see but what you are entitled to be considered part human, anyhow. I never thought Yanks had any of the rudiments of decorum and laudability about them. I reckon I might have been too aggregative in my tabulation. But it ain’t me you want to thank–it’s the Confederate States of America.’

“‘And I’m much obliged to ’em,’ says I. ‘It’s a poor man that wouldn’t be patriotic with a country that’s saved his life. I’ll drink to the Stars and Bars whenever there’s a flagstaff and a glass convenient. But where,’ says I, ‘are the rescuing troops? If there was a gun fired or a shell burst, I didn’t hear it.’

“Doc Millikin raises up and points out the window with his flute at the banana-steamer loading with fruit.

“‘Yank,’ says he, ‘there’s a steamer that’s going to sail in the morning. If I was you, I’d sail on it. The Confederate Government’s done all it can for you. There wasn’t a gun fired. The negotiations were carried on secretly between the two nations by the purser of that steamer. I got him to do it because I didn’t want to appear in it. Twelve thousand dollars was paid to the officials in bribes to let you go.’

“‘Man!’ says I, sitting down hard–‘twelve thousand–how will I ever– who could have–where did the money come from?’

“‘Yazoo City,’ says Doc Millikin: ‘I’ve got a little saved up there. Two barrels full. It looks good to these Colombians. ‘Twas Confederate money, every dollar of it. Now do you see why you’d better leave before they try to pass some of it on an expert?’

“‘I do,’ says I.

“‘Now let’s hear you give the password,’ says Doc Millikin.

“‘Hurrah for Jeff Davis!’ says I.

“‘Correct,’ says Doc. ‘And let me tell you something: The next tune I learn on my flute is going to be “Yankee Doodle.” I reckon there’s some Yanks that are not so pizen. Or, if you was me, would you try “The Red, White, and Blue”?'”