Smith grinned.
The Colonel's face grew purple with rage. He was just able to gasp his
words during the progress of the trial. It was brief, and when it ended
and the rest had gone, he faced the Lieutenant with blazing eyes:
"How dare you, sir, vote with that damned fool against me?"
"Why, I never thought to hurt you, Colonel--"
"No? And what _did_ you think?"
"I only thought of relieving the evident embarrassment of a young
officer--"
"You did, eh?--no thought of me or my feelings, of my wishes. You're a
hell of a son-in-law, you are--"
He paused for breath and choked with rage no words could express. When
at last his tongue found speech, he swore in oaths more expressive and
profound than modern man has ever dreamed. He damned the Court. He
damned Tom Smith. He damned the Second Lieutenant. He damned the
regiment. He damned the Government that created it. He damned the
Indians that called it to the plains. He damned the world and all in it,
and all things under it. But, particularly and specifically, he damned
the young ass who dared to flaunt his feelings and opinions after
smiling in his face at his house, for days and weeks and months.
Finally, facing the blushing Lieutenant, his eyes flashing indignant
scorn, he shouted:
"No man who votes with a damned fool like Tom Smith, can marry my
daughter!"
"Colonel, I protest," pleaded the heartsick lover.
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