Chapter III: Part 3

When Van and I entered the cosey old room the fun had been started. "That's all right about your flank attack," the lieutenant-colonel was saying, in answer to the senior major's assertion that a brilliant move by his detachment had won the day for the attacking side; "oh, yes--_that's_ all right; but if it had been the 'real thing,' I'd have cut you up into sausage-meat with the sharpshooters I'd tucked into that clump of pines."

"Well, why didn't you--as it was?" inquired the major, calmly cutting the end from his cigar.

"Because the boys had run short of ammunition," replied the lieutenant-colonel.

"Ah! they _had_, had they?" remarked the major sarcastically; "and if it had been the real old stuff I'd have been wiped out, would I? Humph! A bush full of sharpshooters _without ammunition_ doesn't seem to strike me as being much of an obstacle. It's no use, Billy--there's where I caught you napping; empty boxes are empty boxes, whether they've been emptied of blank or ball."

"I was outnumbered, anyway," said the lieutenant-colonel, on the defensive for the second time that day. "How in thunder could I take four companies, and play 'em off against eight?"

"I don't know, I'm sure," pleasantly replied the major. "You thought you could, though, when we planned this thing out. Miscalculated just a hair, eh?"

"Hello, here's Stearns," put in Van, with a view to diverting the conversation into safer courses before the traditional tranquillity of The Battery should become ruffled. "How are you, Tom? Good evening, Captain Penryhn."

Stearns and his companion came up to the fireplace, in which a cheerful blaze had been kindled to take the chill from the air of the cool October evening, and for a moment the discussion was dropped; but it wasn't long before some chance word renewed the argument, and so, on Van's suggestion, we made a change of base to one of the small tables in the corner of the room, and left the strategists to settle their differences without our aid.

Now, it happened that Bones had been called away immediately after dinner, and so Van appropriated the absent surgeon's pet story, and entertained our visitor by telling how the doctor and "Acme" had brought the Cavalry Cup to our headquarters. It happened also that the recital of this yarn of ours reminded the Englishman of an experience of his own--and that was what I had started to tell you when I had to branch off into so many explanations.

"Rather brutal bit of luck, I should call it," observed the English captain, referring to Bones' racing exploit. "Must have been very melancholy for the troopers. Well, luck's a factor that can't be disregarded. I had a rare slice of luck myself, once on a time, and in the way of riding, too. Fancy I'll tell you of it. Do you mind?"

No, we didn't mind; and so Captain Penryhn proceeded to tax our credulity in this wise:

"I ran upon this particular piece of good fortune in--let me think--in '84," said he, bringing out his words slowly and with an accent which fell oddly upon our ears, and yet certainly detracted nothing from the interest of the story. "It was in Egypt, where we'd had to interfere somewhat in the course of matters. Daresay you remember what led up to all the bother?" Van nodded assent, and so I could do no less, though I'm morally certain that our combined knowledge of the Egyptian question could have been put into four lines of type without overcrowding. "Then I'll jump _in medias res_ at once," Penryhn went on, "merely stopping to explain how I happened to be in Egypt at that time.

"I then was in the Sixty-fifth--the 'York and Lancaster' regiment--the same corps in which I now hold my captaincy. I was on leave, however, and had obtained permission to attach myself to the staff of Baker Pacha, who was fitting out his expedition for the relief of Tokar. I'd gone into this venture simply for the fun of the thing, but before I got quit of it I was forced to the conclusion that I possibly had been led into it under a mistaken set of impressions; for the fun was much less in quantity and of a far poorer quality than I had anticipated."

Penryhn picked up the mug which Sam had set upon the table, took a long pull at its amber contents, and then remarked, "Do you know, this American beer of yours is very good? In fact, I find myself coming to fancy it strongly, though I must admit that at first I didn't. It's much the same with Americans themselves: we Englishmen really don't care much about them until we learn to know them well, but when we _do_ know them we become very fond of them. I found that to be so in the case of Carroll--Major Carroll, of your Eighteenth Regular Cavalry, who was with me on the campaign of which I am telling."

"Of our Eighteenth Cavalry?" said I, inquiringly. "Why, how came he in Egypt?"

"He was looking for sport, as I was," Captain Penryhn replied. "He was military _attaché_ at Berlin, and had got leave for a few months. We both were volunteer aides-de-camp to Baker."

Here, noticing that the Englishman had got well towards the last inch of his cigar, I silently proffered my freshly filled case. He half drew out a weed, but pushed it back to its place, saying "I'm of a mind to try one of your pipes, if I may?"

"You certainly shall," said I. "Hi! Sam, bring the cobs." Penryhn took a pipe, filled and lighted it, and then remarked, "Oh, I say! I rather wondered why so many of you were smoking these things, but _now_ I don't. Sweet, isn't it, eh?"

"Yes, we call a cobful of plug a comforting sort of smoke," said Van, "and it takes the entire crop of a fifty-acre cornfield to keep The Battery supplied with smoking utensils."

"Not really?" said our astonished guest.

"Possibly not quite," I put in; and then, in order to check Van in any further flights of imagination, I asked, "Didn't you have some difficulty, captain, in getting your expedition into shape? As I recall it, at this late day, Baker Pacha rather came to grief in his attempt at relieving Tokar."

"Difficulty?" said Penryhn. "Yes, we had an abundance of it. Baker had drawn together a mob of something over five thousand men. Did I say _men_? Sheep would be better--and black sheep, too; for the rabble we had with us, under the nickname of 'soldiers,' was made up for the most part of cowardly Egyptian _fellahen_, who had been driven into the ranks either through fear of the bastinado or else by the actual application of it. Great Wolseley! Never such a mob had masqueraded as an army since war was invented."

"How were you officered?" asked Stearns, tossing a match to Van, whose pipe had managed to go out.

"Mainly by Egyptians," replied the Englishman, "though there were enough Europeans to pound the mass into at least a semblance of order and discipline. But it's utterly impossible to put brains into a solid Egyptian skull, nor can you put any heart into one of those miserable, half-human _fellahen_: and that was unfortunate, you know, because it takes a tidy bit of heart to go out into the desert against the wild tribesmen; while as for brains--well, enough brains for aiming and firing a rifle are almost indispensable. 'Pon my soul, we actually lost scores of men by the random firing of our own troops. What d'ye think of _that_?"

"I think you ought to have had Van Sickles, here, to do a little missionary work among your marksmen," said I, laughing. "He's our I.R.P., you know, and since he came into commission he has been eminently successful in keeping our boys from killing each other."

"Beg pardon," said Penryhn, doubtfully, "your I.R.P.?"

"Inspector of rifle practice," explained Van, adding, "Shouldn't think you could have afforded to waste your darkies in that fashion."

"My dear fellow," said our visitor, in a tone of the deepest disgust, "it isn't possible to waste an Egyptian soldier. The only waste I can think of is that of the powder and lead it takes to blow him to--to oblivion."

"That was good material to recruit from," remarked Stearns. "Didn't you feel a little shaky about going out with it?"

"I've not the slightest hesitation in admitting that I did," replied the English captain; "and just before we started on our final advance, I bet a dinner with Major Carroll that if we got into a fight, our black regiments wouldn't face the music for an hour. It wasn't a bad bet, for I won by a good, wide margin.

"Well, on the fourth of February, in '84, we marched out our 'army' from Trinkitat, waded across the shallow lagoon to the mainland, and struck out over the sands for Tokar--twenty miles away. You think that you have done rapid work to-day in fighting a sham battle inside half-a-dozen hours, but _we_ made a record that, in one way, is incomparably better than yours; for we marched four miles, fought just fifteen minutes by my bracelet watch, and the campaign _ended_ right there! Can you equal that, eh?"

"Blest if it wasn't hustling!" said Stearns. "You had pretty nearly a soft thing in that bet of yours, didn't you?"

"It wasn't half a bad speculation," replied Penryhn, as Sam replaced our empties by four newly filled pewters. "Bah! a good part of our fellows couldn't find spirit enough even to run, and stood stock-still, paralyzed with fright, until they were cut down in their tracks. The rest of 'em--and the braver ones _they_ were--set off on a jog-trot for Trinkitat, going just fast enough to afford gentle exercise to the cheerful savages, who trotted along after them and carved them up at their leisure. Ah, perhaps things weren't in a devil of a box!"

"I judge that you wasted precious little time in trying to rally your men," observed Stearns.

"On that point your judgment is very fair indeed," returned the Englishman. "Rallies aren't manufactured out of that kind of rubbish. I much sooner should have thought of attempting to catch a hurricane in a scoop-net. Perhaps if I'd been on hand at the first break I might have had a try or two at it, but it so happened that I'd been sent with a handful of native cavalry to scatter a bunch of horsemen threatening our flank. When I left the column on this errand, Baker was preparing to 'form square,' but the Mahdi's men came dancing in before he had time for the manoeuvre, and when we came galloping back from our dash the fight was _over_; and, as I've said, fifteen minutes had been time, and ample, for the winding up of that campaign.

"It was a very rum go, and I reflected that, under all the circumstances, I might as well devote my time and attention to getting myself, with unpunctured skin, back to Trinkitat. However, I thought I'd edge in a bit towards the flying rabble, on the chance of falling in with Carroll; and so I spurred into the outskirts of the mob of fright-crazed blacks. As luck would have it, I ran upon my man almost immediately, and to my dying day I never shall forget how he was busying himself.

"You may think it absurd, but when I rode up to your countryman I found him holding by the collar an Egyptian major, whom he was spanking--yes, actually _spanking_!--with the flat of his sword. Affairs were at the last ditch of desperation, and every moment's delay brought death by so much the closer; and yet, for the life of me, I couldn't help laughing at the sight. The poor major was bawling and sobbing with pain and fright, while Carroll was laying it on with jolly goodwill, accompanying each whack with a burst of transatlantic profanity which, under any ordinary circumstances, would have made me shiver.

"But I hadn't any time to waste in watching performances of this sort, and so I rode up closer, yelling, 'Carroll! _Carroll_, old man, are you mad? You've not an instant to spare! The black devils are close upon us! Where's your horse?' Carroll gave two more resounding whacks to his captive, shook him until his teeth rattled, and then set him free, with a parting kick to speed him on his way to safety. Then he looked up at me with, 'Hello, Pen! My horse? That mud-colored major--I hope they'll lift his woolly scalp!--he _shot_ my horse! Pulled his revolver, shut both eyes, blazed away, and hit poor old _Selim_. I swear, Pen, he nearly made me lose my temper!'"

"Were your native officers all as efficient as this one?" I inquired, after we had laughed a little over this piece of marksmanship.

"Why, compared with the others, he was a hero," said Penryhn, in all earnestness, "for he actually fired a shot. Most of 'em turned and ran without even stopping to pull trigger.

"But though all this now may seem funny enough in the telling, the humor of the situation wasn't quite so apparent _then_, for the few seconds that this little occurrence had consumed had brought danger very close to us. The half-naked Arabs had begun to carve their way right into the heart of our stampeding crowd, and from my seat in the saddle I could see them getting altogether too neighborly to suit my ideas of comfort. 'Catch hold of my stirrup,' I said to Carroll, 'and come along out of this.' He sprang towards me, but before he reached my side a great wiry savage came tearing through the mob, and with one sweep of his long sword hamstrung my horse. Probably he meant to have taken a shy next at me, but he lost the chance, for Carroll plumped a bullet into his neck, and he went tumbling down all of a heap. All that, though, was cold comfort; for there we were, _on foot_, and with any odds you please against our getting out of the scrape alive.

"'The game's up, old fellow,' said I, clearing myself from my struggling horse. 'Come up here to me, and so long as our ammunition lasts we'll fight it out, back to back.' Our chances seemed so desperate, you see, that I didn't give even a thought to escape. 'The hell we will!' responded Carroll, whose language somehow seemed unnecessarily lurid, 'I guess _not_! Pick up your heels, Pen, and make a scramble for it. We can fight just as well running as we can standing still.'

"At the word he started off, and I followed him, for though death seemed inevitable I didn't have quite the courage to stay and face it alone. 'It's no sort of use,' I panted, as we ran along side by side; 'we can't foot it for four miles over this sand--in our boots, too--and get clear of those naked desert-devils.'

"'Well, who's going to?' was the answer I got. Carroll had looked over his shoulder, and catching sight of a camel which, urged on by a Soudanese, was lumbering down upon us, he halted and faced about. 'Hi! you black son-of-the-Nile,' he shouted, 'hold up! You _won't_?' he went on, bringing up his revolver, and roaring out his command in Arabic. 'Take that, then!' and he fired twice. The first shot was a clean miss, but at the second the poor chap rolled over and dropped headlong upon the sand, while Carroll jumped to catch the riderless camel. 'Hold him by the nose!' I yelled, 'that's the only way you can manage him!' '_I've_ got him,' he sang out in reply, as he caught the dangling cord. 'Whoa! you hump-backed beast of misery! Hi! Steady, you four-legged, graceful nightmare! How in blazes, Pen, can we make him kneel?'"

"Well, how _did_ you?" inquired Van, removing his pipe from between his teeth in order to ask the question.

"We simply didn't," said the Englishman, blowing forth a mighty volume of fragrant smoke, and following this up with a succession of short puffs, "because neither of us knew the trick. 'He looks higher than a house,' said I, as I stood helplessly beside the ungainly animal, 'but we've got to scale him somehow.' 'Here, hold his head,' said Carroll, 'and I'll make a bluff at mounting him,' and then, after we had exchanged places, he sprang up, caught at some part or other of the camel's trappings, and managed to haul himself up. 'Pass up the lines, Pen, and look lively,' he called out. 'Old Humpty's getting uneasy--and so am I. Give me your hand, and climb as if the Mahdi himself were after you!' I tossed him the rein, and started to follow him up, but the minute I released the camel's head the terrified beast lunged forward, knocking me over like a ninepin, and when I got to my feet again he was fifty yards away--and going like a race-horse.

"'Clean bowled!' I muttered, as I realized what had happened. 'He can't manage him, so my last chance is played,' and with a farewell glance at Carroll's receding figure I faced towards the desert--the direction from which I knew my death was on its way to me--drew my revolver, filled an empty chamber in it, cocked it, and waited for the end.

"All around me the rush of terror-stricken blacks continued, while in front, and not far away, I could catch the flash and gleam of steel when some Arab butcher hove his sword up into the air, to bring it whistling down upon one of our defenceless darkies. Frightened? Yes, I was in a blue funk, but it was the sort of fear that has a good share of ugliness in it, and I shut my teeth down and watched out for some one to kill.

"In a fix like that a little time goes a long way, and it seemed as though I had been standing there for hours--though probably it was a matter of but minutes--when a long, misshapen shadow darkened the sand beside me, and I heard a voice shouting, 'Quick, Pen, for your life! Your hand, old chap--_your hand_! I can't control this fellow much longer!' It was Carroll--the blessed, profane old angel!--who had worked some Yankee miracle with that camel, and had come back to pick me out of the wreck.

"Without a word, for seconds were precious then, I thrust my revolver into my belt--not the most careful thing I could have done, considering that it was full-cocked--and by a desperate bit of scrambling got up behind my rescuer. Off started the camel, stretched out at top-speed, swaying from side to side, and plunging and rising like a troop-ship in the Bay of Biscay, while we two fugitives clung to whatever we could lay hands upon. But it was comforting to note the rate at which he took himself over the sand, and I actually began to pluck up a trifle."

"Then you didn't complain of your accommodations," remarked Stearns, suggestively.

"I? No, I wouldn't have minded being tossed in a blanket if each toss had sent me away from Osman Digna's sweating savages.

"Well, we hung on like monkeys, and after a time became used to the jolting. Finally Carroll turned his head and said, 'You all right, Pen?'

"'Yes; and you?' said I.

"'Happy as a hoo-poo,' said he; 'but I've got all I can do to steer. You'll have to do the shooting, old man; and when your gun goes dry you'll find two shots left in mine. Help yourself to it, if you need it.'

"Now, I'm quite certain that I couldn't have hit a bungalow, under the circumstances, but I piped up cheerfully with, 'All right; you keep your eye out for Trinkitat, and I'll 'tend to matters at this end.'

"Luckily I didn't have to experiment at holding on with one hand and shooting with the other, for our long-legged mount held his gait nobly, and took us into Trinkitat, sound and safe, and at such a rate of going that we weren't much behind Baker and those of his staff who had escaped with him."

"Hm! that was a near call, Captain Penryhn," observed Van Sickles.

"I certainly thought so at the time," said the Englishman, shifting his position in his chair, "and I've seen no cause since to change my opinion. Carroll affected to make light of the whole affair, though, and declared that we could have got away on foot; and to prove it, he brought up the case of his Egyptian major, who actually managed to escape."

"No! Really?" asked Stearns. "I should hope that he and Carroll didn't meet afterwards."

"But they did," said Penryhn, with an expansive grin. "Oh, yes, they met--and it was a funny meeting, too. Carroll walked right up to his man, grabbed him by the hand, and congratulated him on his escape. And then he apologized for his conduct, and said that he felt compelled to give satisfaction for it; wherefore he would meet the aggrieved Egyptian whenever and wherever he might choose, and would fight him in whatever way he might be pleased to suggest. But this generous offer was too much for our native friend, and with a profusion of thanks truly Oriental he declined it, even going so far as to declare that the slapping he had undergone at the hands of the ever-noble and beneficent Carroll--'might his illustrious line long be permitted to continue!'--without doubt had saved his life, since it had been the means of spurring him on to a magnificent and gloriously maintained dash for safety. And so that matter ended happily and to the complete satisfaction of all concerned."

At this point the colonel came over to our corner and carried away Penryhn to show him the photographs of our field-work of the previous year. Stearns got up and went with them, leaving Van and me to smoke in comfort and exchange at our leisure our views of things in general. Now, that man Van Sickles is a sceptical sort of person, and he began to question the probability of the Englishman's story; but I maintained, as I still do, that it must have been true--for I'm myself something of a liar, and it's hard work for a brother-prevaricator to take me into camp. So I tell you the yarn in the full confidence that it is a true one; and I further will remark that last spring Penryhn sent over to Stearns an Arab shield, together with half a dozen villainous, iron-bound spears and a couple of long, straight, nasty-looking swords, all of which things now may be seen up in The Battery, where we've arranged them upon the wall, above the big book-case.

THE HYMN THAT HELPED

THE HYMN THAT HELPED.

It was a warm night, late in May. For two long hours the battalion steadily had kept at it--ploying into column, deploying again into line, and varying things by an occasional march, in company front, around the great hall. But there comes an end to all things, even to a two hours' tramp over an unyielding floor, and at last the bugler, standing beneath the crowded spectators' gallery, puckered his lips, puffed out his cheeks, and blew the welcome bars of "Recall"--the signal that it was ten o'clock and time to wind up the evening's drill. One by one the companies filed out through the broad doorway, and as the last man passed over the threshold--even while the closing notes of the bugle-call still faintly rang among the arching trusses of the vaulted roof--the waiting armorer pressed down the lever which, at a single touch, extinguished the lights in the double row of chandeliers, and left the drill-hall to silence and darkness.

But if all was dark and still in the hall below, upstairs the state of affairs was in lively contrast, for in the company quarters there was light in plenty and the hum of many voices, while presently a yell of laughter from "K's" rooms, followed by a responsive roar from "A's" corner, across the corridor, seemed to show that the manoeuvres of the evening had not brought the men to the point of complete exhaustion.

About the adjutant's desk, in the staff-room, a knot of officers had gathered to talk over the night's work, and speculate upon the weather of the morrow, for it was the night before Memorial Day, and the four companies detailed for escort duty in the coming parade had been going through a battalion drill, "To get shaken into shape for exhibition purposes," as the major put it.

"The boys measured off a good step to-night: thirty elegant inches, within an eighth," said the adjutant, footing up the last column of the drill report, and then gracing it with his undecipherable signature. "Yes, they stretched it out in gorgeous style, and the last time they came 'round the hall the company wheels were just as pretty as any you ever saw on a little, red wagon." This was in the days when Upton yet was law in the land; before the "new regulations" had come to vex the souls of company commanders.

"That's all well enough," remarked the major who was to command the battalion next day; "but, after all, we're at the mercy of whatever band we catch. It was a mistake to let ours go out of town for to-morrow."

"It _was_ so," assented the adjutant, shoving a handful of documents into the pigeon-hole labelled "Papers awaiting action," and then, rising from his desk, "Do you know what band's been assigned?"

"Haven't heard," replied the major, with a yawn. "_I_ wouldn't ask for any better marching music than the article the drum-corps deals out. The boys swing along like machines, when they have the old tunes to set 'em going;" and he began, to whistle "The British Grenadier," drumming with his fingers an accompaniment to the inspiring, old refrain, but stopping when the sergeant-major entered and said, "The colonel presents his compliments, and wishes the field and staff to report to him in his room."

"Come along, fellows," said the major, buttoning up his fatigue jacket. "This means an expedition against The Battery," and with this safe prediction he led the way along the corridor towards the door which bore upon its oaken panel the words "Colonel, Third Infantry."

"Come in," sang out the colonel, as the group of officers reached his door, "come in for a minute. I need your advice. Only _four_ of you? Why, where's 'Pay'?"

The major replied, "He's escaped, sir, but those of us who are left are very much at your service--and full of advice."

"No doubt of it," laughed the colonel; "I've not the slightest doubt of it. That's where the officer of volunteers never is found lacking. I've yet to meet the one who's not prepared to give advice on any matter, and at a minute's notice, too. Well, now for that same advice: do you counsel an immediate and early scattering, or a brief visit to the dominions of Sam? Weigh your words, for I've determined to be guided to-night by the wishes of the majority."

"I haven't attained a 'majority'--as yet, sir," said the adjutant, speaking rapidly and beginning to unbuckle his belt; "but with due deference to my seniors, I would state that the evening has been long, warm, and very arid; enough so to reduce some of us--_one_ I can swear to--to a state bordering upon collapse. I therefore most respectfully would suggest that The Battery be converted temporarily into a field-hospital, and that Major Sawin, surgeon, Third Infantry, be ordered to proceed thither without delay, to make provision for such patients as later may report to him for treatment."

"Listen to the boy!" said the colonel, as the adjutant paused for lack of breath. "And nobody has any better advice to offer?" he went on. "Well, Bones, you heard? Trot along--you're not in uniform--and start Sam on a bowl of claret-cup. The rest of us will join you in ten minutes."

"I think _I'll_ do the compounding," said the surgeon, mentally recalling a formula of his earlier days, "and if the results aren't satisfactory--why, I'll resign and give Wilder his step;" and he turned towards the door, pausing to remark, "Don't overheat yourselves by hurrying, for I'm going to take my time in getting there."

The ten minutes had stretched well along towards twenty, when an uneven trampling of feet upon The Battery's stairs warned the waiting surgeon that his patients were at hand. He had employed his time to good purpose, however, and in the arrangement of his "field-hospital" there lacked nothing which long experience could suggest.

Before the wide dormer-window--in which every sash had been thrown open to catch whatever of breeze might stray that way--stood a round table, bearing a huge glass pitcher, filled to the brim with crimson claret-cup, and beaded with the dew of its icy contents. Five heavy chairs were ranged near at hand, and to each a glass was allotted, while beside every glass lay a newly filled pipe, ready for the lighting. Save one shaded lamp, all the lights were out, to give full play to the bright moonlight which came slanting in through the casement, tracing curious patterns of light and shadow upon the floor and walls. All looked cool and restful, and the surgeon gave just one more satisfied glance at his preparations before turning to receive his wearied brothers-in-arms.

"This way to the operating-table," he called out, as the door was flung open. "The instruments are ready, and the surgeon is waiting. I shall make no diagnosis in individual cases--since it is apparent that your ailment has reached the proportions of an epidemic--but shall treat you collectively."

"Bones, you deserve to be thanked 'in orders,'" said the colonel impressively, after a comprehensive survey of the surroundings. "Sit down, all--and Charley, you man the pitcher."

"I chose a pitcher in preference to a bowl," explained the beaming doctor, waving his hand in the direction of that seductive-looking vessel, "because the effect upon the eye is so much more pleasing. I tell you, the careful practitioner has to watch out for even the most trifling details."

A clatter of chairs followed this remark, succeeded by the musical tinkle of ice, as the adjutant filled the glasses. Then came a moment of refreshing silence; and finally five grateful men set down their empty tumblers with a universal, long-drawn sigh of comfort and supreme content.

"Wilder will not get his step _this_ time," said the colonel, holding his glass in readiness for refilling, "for your reputation, Bones, is saved."

"Your appreciation touches me," replied the surgeon, leaning forward to possess himself of a pipe, an example followed by the others. One after another the matches cracked and flamed, until five corn-cobs glowed soothingly in the dim, half-light of the quiet room, sending a pale cloud of fragrant smoke adrift across the moonbeams, to twist and circle in the fitful current of air from the open casement.

"With the brigade band, which you'll have to-morrow," observed the colonel, between puffs, to the major, "you ought to go 'swinging on the old, old gait.'"

"So it's to be the brigade band?" said the major. "Good enough! Just before we left the armory we were discussing our chances on music."

"Well, music is rather important," returned the colonel, "for a good band can put life into the lamest column. I once even knew a band to put life into a dead man, too. Fact!"

"Extraordinary!" murmured the major. "I've heard plenty of bands bad enough to strike a man dead, but I never happened to discover one that seemed quite up to the resurrection pitch. Perhaps, Colonel, you'll tell us about it?"

"I'm blessed if I don't," was the colonel's reply to this suggestion, "if for nothing else than punishment for the doubt implied in your tone."

"Thank you, sir," said the major politely, bestowing his lazy length upon the cushions of the window-seat, where he settled himself in all comfort. "It's a good long time since we've had a yarn from you, and I'm pleased to learn that we're in a fair way to get you started."

This judicious remark was not without its effect, for the chief pulled the major's empty chair handily near, gently deposited his feet upon it, and observed, "Well, if I've told you this incident at all, I'm sure it hasn't been within a year, so it will be as good as new." Then he turned his head and called, "Sam, come and put out that lamp," adding, "Moonlight's good enough for story-telling--and somehow lamplight makes a discord on a night like this."

"Got ev'rythin' handy, Cun'l?" inquired Sam, as the flame flickered and went out.

"Yes, everything except _you_," responded the commanding officer. "Pull up a chair, Sam, and kindle your disreputable old briarwood; for I'm going to yarn about a shindy in which your battery trumped the winning trick, and I shall need your corroborative testimony."

Sam brought a chair, seated himself with proper deliberation, and added his contribution to the ever-thickening cloud of smoke; those whose glasses stood in need of refilling took the precautions necessary to avert a drought; and the colonel, fixing his eyes upon the cloudless sky without, began:

"Back in '64--a matter of a fortnight or so before that little affair at Three Mile Creek, where you, Sam, got scraped across the wrist, and won that medal of yours--the 'Old Regiment' found itself at a most forsaken sort of place which was going to ruin under the name of Ashford Four Corners. Why we had been dumped down in that particular spot we neither knew nor greatly cared, for we had reached a point in soldierly indifference which enabled us to take our billet unquestioningly, though not always uncomplainingly. Even old Burleigh, our colonel, hadn't a very definite conception of our exact errand, for he told us that we had been ordered to sit down, keep our eyes open, and stay there until we were sent for,--an order which, at the time, seemed easy of execution, though rather purposeless.

"With all due pomp and circumstance we marched into and through Ashford Four Corners, and took up a position about half a mile beyond the straggling collection of tumble-down buildings composing that metropolis; and there we prepared to 'sit down,' as _per_ orders, and 'keep our eyes open' to see that nothing came along over a sandy road running off, in a southeasterly direction, into the dense woods in our front."

"Wal, 'twarnt sich a bad idee, havin' ye thar," observed Sam, between puffs, "an' I guess ye seen th' reason for't, finally."

"Oh, yes, the reason made itself unpleasantly obvious later," assented the colonel; "but along at the first we were rather pleased at being sent off and--as we thought--side-tracked, for we hadn't the slightest expectation of seeing or hearing anything from the enemy. No, we certainly weren't grumbling much over the detail, for we'd had a hot and trying time of it for ten days hand-running, and the prospect of even a few hours of rest and quiet seemed attractive.

"But though we weren't looking for trouble, we'd 'been in the business' too long to take anything for granted, and so we had a turn at pick-and-shovel drill, and threw up a very workmanlike line of breastworks, neatly topped-off with logs; and after the earth had been heaped up and patted down we surveyed the result of our labors, called it good, and waited patiently to see if anybody would blunder along that way to help us in a house-warming.

"In billiards 'position is everything,'" the colonel observed, after a short pause to obtain necessary restoratives, "and the same rule applies in war. Our position, as we lay at ease in our hastily constructed works, was fairly good. If I had the blackboard here I could show you, in ten strokes of the chalk, just how the land lay; but the blackboard isn't here, and, moreover, I should be too lazy to lift the chalk if it _were_ here; and therefore I'll state that our line was established across the tapering end of a fan-shaped clearing, and in such a manner that both flanks were protected by dense woods, while on our left an impenetrable swamp afforded us additional security. The open ground in our front stretched away for a distance of about five hundred yards, ending at the edge of the unbroken forest. Do I make clear the situation?"

"Perfectly, sir," said the adjutant, rattling the ice in the pitcher, by way of serving notice that he stood ready to fill any or all depleted glasses.

"'Twas a good 'nough lay-out for inf'ntry," commented Sam, "but thar warn't quite th' right slope t' git th' best work out o' guns."

"I daresay not," said the colonel, in reply to this bit of criticism, "but your guns were able to accomplish all that we asked, eh? By the way, did you _ever_ get a position that suited your exacting taste?"

"Wal, yis," remarked Sam, after an instant of meditation, "seems like we _did_ once--at Malvern Hill. We hed jest th' right drop, thar, an' our plungin' fire cut out work thet warn't far from bein' plain butchery."

"After we'd got settled," resumed the colonel, "we began to look about for amusement; but the 'Four Corners' didn't seem to afford much in that line, and so most of us put in our time at making up lost sleep, and we certainly might have found less profitable employment. Of course we sent out foraging parties, but the few unhappy hens that fell into their hands didn't go far towards making chicken salad for four hundred hungry men, and so we fell back upon our usual healthful diet of hard-tack and 'salt horse.' Lord! what wouldn't I have given for a bottle of cold beer, or a pitcher of this blessed mixture," and the chief, moved by the recollection of past privations, emptied his half-filled glass at a single swallow.

The watchful adjutant promptly made good the deficiency in his superior's tumbler, and then did himself a like kindness; Van Sickles, who quietly had been smoking in a shadowy corner, rose, stretched himself, and flung himself down upon the end of the window-seat opposite the major; and then the colonel--just as the city clocks began to strike eleven--went on, "Up to nightfall there had been no developments, and when we bundled ourselves up in our blankets, after posting pickets, it was with a comfortable feeling that we were in for a quiet night.

"I'd been officer of the guard the night before, and probably I don't need to say how soundly I fell asleep. But when, along towards morning, a shot rang out from somewhere in the darkness beyond, followed by another, and then by two or three in quick succession--why, I came rolling out of my blankets in almighty short order, and it didn't take an alarm-clock to tell me that it was time to be getting up. Well, the long roll sounded, the regiment fell in, and presently in came the pickets to report the enemy in our front.

"By this time the night was pretty well along, and the first hazy light of the new day was beginning to come; but there wasn't quite enough of it to show us what was going on across the clearing, and so we threw out skirmishers into the woods on either flank, and waited for the next number on the programme. For a good half-hour we stood there, behind the breastworks, without being able to detect a movement in our front; and I--believing the whole thing due to an attack of 'nerves'--had begun to try what satisfaction I could get from damning the eyes and ears of the pickets who had spoiled my beauty-sleep, when Bob Sheldon, my captain, touched my arm, and silently pointed out towards the clearing.

"Now, all this time the light had been gathering strength, and though it still was too dim to enable us easily to distinguish objects at any distance, I yet could make out what seemed to be a line of skirmishers, slowly moving up towards us. A second glance told me that my eyes had not deceived me, and I turned towards Sheldon, with, 'My apologies to the pickets. I damned 'em too hastily, for we're to have company at breakfast, surer than gospel.' 'Yes; them's them,' said Bob, 'but not all of 'em. I'd give a pipeful of plug to know what's hidden over there in the woods.' 'Where'd be the fun in that?' I inquired, stooping over to rub my knee, which had stiffened up a trifle during the night. 'If we knew what was coming, the chances are that we'd leg it; and then what would become of the reputations we've been so long in building up?'

"I straightened up, as I spoke, and again peered over the crest of the breastwork, discovering that the advancing line had halted about two hundred yards from us, evidently without any great ambition to attempt a closer investigation; for at this stage in the war, you must understand, both the Confederates and we had learned to think twice before intruding upon a force well entrenched. These fellows, however, didn't get much time to ponder on the situation, for we gave them a volley which sent them to the rear again, though they retired slowly, and fired as they fell back."

"About as my skirmishers did last October," said the major, half to himself, as he recalled an episode of the regiment's latest engagement.

"Yes; exactly as your men did," said the chief, catching this remark, "with this exception: your boys _all_ went back, but when this line gave ground it left three poor devils lying motionless in the damp grass. Ah, yes; a 'Fall Drill' would be very like a real fight--if it weren't so different," and he paused to liven up his pipe by a few quick, strong puffs.

"This little exchange of compliments--the way we had in those days, you know, of saying 'How d'ye do?'--was only the curtain-raiser to the real performance," the colonel resumed, after his pipe again had begun to glow and smoke like a toy volcano, "and we hadn't long to wait for the beginning of it. In something less than fifteen minutes after we'd cut loose with that preliminary volley, a regiment came marching out from the woods, changed direction to the right, and formed line of battle; another followed it, and formed on its left; and in the interval between them a battery swung into position and unlimbered. That made the odds two to one, in infantry--and six to nothing in the matter of guns."

"Then ye don't count th' breastworks for nothin'?" queried Sam, who was in a critical mood.

"Well, they ought to be considered," admitted the colonel, with a laugh, "and I'll call it an even thing on infantry, but the guns we'll have to figure at sixes and zeros; and as an old gunner, Sam, you'll admit that the other fellows held the stronger hand.

"Now, we didn't care much for the infantry part of the show, but the artillery feature promised to be interesting. The sight of those six guns, I make no bones of admitting, worried me considerably; and even old Burleigh himself showed signs of unusual animation when he turned to Frazier, our quartermaster, with, 'Frazier, did you ever see a man ride like hell?' 'Yes, sir, I've seen several men riding that way,' replied the quartermaster. 'Well, then,' blurted out old Burleigh, 'get on your horse, and ride back to the brigade--in _just_ that way! Give the general my compliments, and tell him I want some guns, and in the biggest kind of hurry, too, if I'm to hold this position. Say that I've got a brigade, at the least, to handle, and nobody knows how much more. I guess I can stand 'em off for an hour, unless they're in force enough to walk right over me, and I'll give you exactly those sixty minutes for getting the guns here. That's all--go! and Frazier started at a gallop, just as the first shell came screeching across the clearing.

"'Twas all-fired short range for artill'ry work," commented Sam, at this point, "an' I've always allowed thet th' only thing thet saved ye were raw gunners. _Must_ ha' be'n that, for guns half handled would ha' had ye dead an' buried 'fore we got up."

"Yes, the guns seemed frightfully near," assented the chief, slightly shifting his position, to bring his glass within easier reach, "and I think your guess about the gunners must be a good one, for a smartly handled battery ought to have wiped us off the face of the earth in less than half the time that we faced this one. In fact, now that I come to think of it, I remember noticing that most of the shells went over us, and wondering how soon the pieces would be depressed sufficiently to knock our line of works into a cocked hat.

"Well, as I've said, Frazier left for the rear in something of a hurry, and none of us devoted much time to watching his departure, for in front there was more than plenty to take up our attention. Five hundred yards was as long range for the muskets of those days as it was close quarters for guns; but we couldn't stand idle and take _all_ the pounding, and so we went in for a little firing on our own account.

"For a time things were rather in a mixed-up mess, and I had my hands full in seeing that my boys kept cool--or decently near it--and didn't go to chucking their ammunition away too generously; so you can understand that I had no eye for anything except what went on in my immediate vicinity. But I can remember, as distinctly as if it had occurred but yesterday, how I turned, when a shell burst just over us, and saw poor Bob Sheldon throw up his hands, stagger, and go plunging down, flat upon his face. I was at his side in an instant, but there was nothing to be done, for he lay there _dead_, with the blood gushing in torrents from a frightful wound which apparently had crushed in his skull. Poor old Bob! I turned him over upon his back, gave just one hurried look at him, and then went back to the company, for--our second lieutenant being then in hospital--I was the only officer left."

The colonel paused long enough to take a sip from his glass, holding it for an instant up before him to catch the effect of the bright moonlight upon the ruddy claret. Then he went on: "Just how long we'd been at it I'm not certain--for it's hard to compute time when every minute is crowded with noise, and smoke, and death; but finally there came a let-up in the firing, and with it an indescribable sort of feeling that something new was about to happen. I was walking up and down behind my company--now and again saying a word to steady the boys--when, from our rear, I heard the music of a military band; and presently, as it drew nearer, I caught the air it was playing. It was our own band--we were one of the few volunteer regiments provided with such a luxury--and old Colonel Burleigh had ordered it to march up to the front, playing for all it was worth, in the hope that the Confederates might be led to believe that we were being reënforced.

"Now, we were a careless and godless set, the most of us, but we were a Massachusetts regiment, New Englanders born and bred, and we all knew the 'psalm tunes' of our boyhood days; so when the band came marching up, thundering out the 'Portuguese Hymn'--that grand old psalm beginning,

'How firm a foundation, ye saints of the Lord,'--

the effect was instantaneous. The old colonel afterwards told us that he had intended to pass along word for the boys to set up a cheer when the band began to play, but the command never was given; for when our fellows recognized the old, familiar air, they rose as one man, and shouted and yelled, and yelled again, until the woods reëchoed with the cheering.

"The cheering was at its height when an inspiration came to our color-sergeant--a great, bearded fellow, with a voice like a trumpet--and, holding high in air the torn and faded colors, he sprang upon the breastworks, and roared out the second verse of the hymn--

'Fear not, I am with thee; oh, be not dismayed!
I, I am thy God, and will still give thee aid;
I'll strengthen thee, help thee, and cause thee to stand,
Upheld by my righteous, omnipotent hand.'

"It was magnificent! One after another the boys joined in the refrain, until four hundred throats swelled the chorus, and four hundred strong voices sang the old psalm as it never had been sung before. It was one of those moments that make an impression upon the memory which only death can efface, and I never shall forget the electric thrill which ran along our worn-out line as we sung those words of mighty comfort and cheer.

"I had joined in with the rest, and was singing for all that was in me, when I heard at my side a weak voice trying to follow the air, and, looking down, I saw Bob Sheldon--whom I had thought dead--supporting himself on one elbow, and feebly wandering along upon the words of the hymn. It was a ghastly sight, for he was covered with blood from the gaping wound in his head, and so begrimed with the dirt which had clung to it that his own mother never could have recognized him. He was alive, to be sure, but barely alive; and as I knelt beside him he sank back with a pitifully feeble groan, for the effort he had made had exhausted the little strength that was left in him.

"Supporting his head with one arm, I moistened his lips from my canteen, and then bent over to catch what he was saying; for, though his eyes were closed, he was muttering indistinctly, and I could make out an occasional word or short sentence. 'Nell--little Nell,' I heard him murmur, 'it's _hard_ to go away.' Poor old Bob! I knew in a minute that he was clean out of his head, and that his thoughts had gone wandering back to his old New England town, and to the brown-haired girl who, with brimming eyes and quivering lips, had bidden him Godspeed when the 'Old Regiment' marched away. 'Be patient and--and brave, dear,' he rambled on, in his feeble voice, 'for I'm surely, surely coming--back--to you,' _Was he?_ Gad! something caught me in the throat when I heard the words," and the colonel abruptly paused, and reached for his glass.

Half unconsciously the major slipped his hand inside the breast of his coat, where it rested upon a much-worn leathern case in which lay hidden a photograph; the adjutant blew a succession of feathery smoke-rings across the broad beam of moonlight which came streaming into the room, and--for he was a very young man--fancied that each ring framed a certain sunny face; Van Sickles tranquilly went on with his pipe; and the colonel, clearing his throat by a slight cough, continued:

"Now, all this meant a great deal to me, for I had known from childhood both Sheldon and the girl whom he was to marry. And I can remember how I wondered, as I knelt there, if it would be my duty to tell her how her lover had gone down at his post. I tell you, boys," and his teeth tightened a bit upon the reed stem of his pipe, "war has a terrible fascination--I wouldn't willingly wipe away the memory of the old days in the service--and yet many an experience of mine made me stop to think if, after all, war were worth the while.

"But in this case matters turned out all right in the end," went on the chief, reaching for the jar of tobacco, and extracting a pipeful, which he slowly rubbed in the palm of one hand, "and when the 'Old Regiment' marched through the crowded streets of Washington, in the grand review, Bob Sheldon rode along with us--and his straps bore the gold leaves, in place of the silver bars. Yes, he pulled through all right, and not long after we were mustered out, I stood with him in the little church at home, and saw his handsome face light up when Nell--his 'little Nell'--came blushing down the aisle to end the long waiting.