And--went on the cool, quiet mind--since the man was _not_ a spy how could a Union officer be executed for assisting a _spy_ to escape?
Coming back to his desk again the General picked out another smoke, felt of it thoughtfully, sniffed at it, then raised his quiet eyes.
"Lieutenant-Colonel Morrison," he said in clear, incisive tones, "_go back to your command!_" Five words.

Five short, plain words, yet they made all the difference between a firing squad and a chance at life again.

There was a silence--then a gasp from Morrison's dry throat.

At the sound of his title--at the sound of that blessed order which, by right of supreme power, instantly restored him to his rank, the Union officer leaped to his feet with a cry of joy.

But it was not even for those around him in that little room to know the wonderful vista of happiness which opened up again before the eyes which only a moment ago had been doomed to close in the sleep of a disgraceful death.
The General's hand went up in a gesture which checked his gratitude.
"The _next_ time you are forced to decide between military duty and humanity--think twice!" He turned to his desk and took up a small piece of paper, crumpled and torn.
"Captain Cary," he said, "I sincerely regret that I cannot honor the pass as given you by Colonel Morrison," and he turned the paper over, "but I do honor the pass of your General--R.E.