“When the charge in a round explodes, it makes a gas that rapidly expands and pushes the bullet out of the muzzle. Do you follow me?”

“Certainly, sir. If I may remind you, I was an engineer.” Lee felt irked at being asked so elementary a question.

“That’s right. So you were.” Rhoodie spoke as if reminding himself. He went on, “My weapon taps some of the gas and uses it to move the bolt back so the magazine spring can lift another round into the chamber. Then the cycle repeats itself until the magazine has no more ammunition left in it.”

“Most ingenious.” Lee plucked at his beard, not wanting to go on. Southern inventors had come up with a great many clever ideas during the war, only to have them prove stillborn because of the Confederacy’s feeble manufacturing capacity. Nevertheless, the question had to be asked: “With how many of these repeaters could you supply me?”

Rhoodie smiled broadly. “How many would you like?”

“I would like as many as you can furnish,” Lee said. “The use to which I might put them, however, would depend on the number available. If you can provide me with, say, a hundred, I might furnish them to horse artillery batteries, so they might protect themselves against attacks by the enemy infantry. If, on the other hand, you are fortunate enough to possess five hundred or so—and the requisite ammunition—I would consider outfitting a cavalry regiment with them. It would be pleasant to have our horsemen able to match the firepower those people are able to bring to bear, rather than opposing them with pistols and shotguns.”

Andries Rhoodie’s smile grew wider still, yet it was not the smile of someone sharing something pleasant with friends. Lee was reminded instead of the professional grimace of a stage magician about to produce two doves from inside his hat. Rhoodie said,” And suppose, General Lee, suppose I am able to get you a hundred thousand of these rifles, with their ammunition? How would you—how would the Confederacy—use them?”