Good God, Blythe thought, what was he supposed to do? Paint a target on Starbuck’s back and put a gun in Dennison’s hands? “Hell, I ain’t suggesting nothing,” he said, “except that maybe you and Bobby Case should be running this battalion. Once I’ve gone south, Tom, it won’t make no difference to me, but it hurts, it hurts real bad, to see talent being held back. It ain’t in my nature to say nothing when I see that, and you and Bobby are being held back.”

A burst of cheering made both men turn to see that Captain Potter and Lucifer had returned with a pair of bucksaws that were swiftly put to work. A squad of outraged Georgians were following the thieves, intent on retrieving the saws, and Starbuck’s men were working fast to rip down the bushes before the confrontation.

“That goddamn slave of Starbuck’s,” Dennison said softly, “he watches all the time. Stays awake at night, watching.”

“Hell, down south we know how to treat uppity niggers,” Blythe said scornfully, “specially niggers with guns. He wouldn’t last a day down south.”

A burst of laughter sounded. Potter, with a face of utter innocence, was claiming that he thought the bucksaws had been discarded. He launched into an elaborate story of just chancing upon the two saws, and while he talked the Yellowlegs ripped the blades to and fro and hurled the sawn bushes up into the small ravine.

The Georgian captain demanded the saws’ immediate return. Starbuck, sweat and dirt on his chest, introduced himself. He agreed that theft was a serious matter. “You can identify the saws?” he asked the Georgian.

“Hell, we saw the nigger snatch them!”

“Lucifer!” Starbuck called. “Did you take this gentleman’s saws?”

Lucifer shook his head. “Captain Potter said they were lost, sir. Said I should take care of them.” Another two bushes were cut through and the men scrambled up to the next tangle of brush and began work again.

“The saws were lying on our coats!” the Georgian protested.

“I think the proper procedure would be a full inquiry,” Starbuck said. “If you’d like to make a report to your brigade commander,” he told the Georgian, “I’ll warn mine that the paperwork is coming. Captain Potter? You can write a detailed report on the circumstances under which you encountered the saws?”

“How many copies, sir?” Potter asked.

“Three at least,” Starbuck said.

The Georgian shook his head. “Hell, mister,” he said to Starbuck, “my boys can just take the saws now. Kind of spare you the ink. Come on, boys.” He led his dozen men toward the saws, but a score of Starbuck’s men offered to defend them and the Georgians checked at the odds.

Potter patted the stalled gun. “Shall we load with canister, sir?” he asked Starbuck.

Starbuck grinned, then turned to see that the last of the bushes were being cut down. He waited till the saws had done their work, then collected them. “Thank you for the loan,” he told the Georgian Captain, holding out the saws. “Appreciate it.”