Short Story Classics (American) Vol. 2 | Page 4

the same on hand now."

"On hand where? What are you driving at, Colonel?"
"He looks like a boy. I mean she looks like a boy. You know what I
mean, Wallis; I mean the boy that makes believe to wait on him. And
her brother is in camp, got here to-night. There'll be an explanation
to-morrow, and there'll be bloodshed."
"Good-night, Colonel, and sleep it off," said Wallis, rising from the
side of a man whom he believed to be sillily drunk and altogether
untrustworthy. "You know we get after the rebs at dawn."
"I know it--goo-night, Adjutant--gawblessyou," mumbled Old Crumps.
"We'll lick those rebs, won't we?" he chuckled. "Goo-night, ole fellow,
an' gawblessyou."
Whereupon Old Grumps fell asleep, very absurdly overcome by liquor,
we extremely regret to concede, but nobly sure to do his soldierly duty
as soon as he should awake.
Stumbling wearily blanketward, Wallis found his Major and regimental
commander, the genial and gallant Gahogan, slumbering in a peace like
that of the just. He stretched himself anear, put out his hand to touch his
sabre and revolver, drew his caped greatcoat over him, moved once to
free his back of a root or pebble, glanced languidly at a single
struggling star, thought for an instant of his far-away mother, turned his
head with a sigh and slept. In the morning he was to fight, and perhaps
to die; but the boyish veteran was too seasoned, and also too tired, to
mind that; he could mind but one thing--nature's pleading for rest.
In the iron-gray dawn, while the troops were falling dimly and
spectrally into line, and he was mounting his horse to be ready for
orders, he remembered Gildersleeve's drunken tale concerning the
commandant, and laughed aloud. But turning his face toward brigade
headquarters (a sylvan region marked out by the branches of a great
oak), he was surprised to see a strange officer, a fair young man in
captain's uniform, riding slowly toward it.
"Is that the boy's brother?" he said to himself; and in the next instant he

had forgotten the whole subject; it was time to form and present the
regiment.
Quietly and without tap of drum the small, battle-worn battalions filed
out of their bivouacs into the highway, ordered arms and waited for the
word to march. With a dull rumble the field-pieces trundled slowly
after, and halted in rear of the infantry. The cavalry trotted off
circuitously through the fields, emerged upon a road in advance and
likewise halted, all but a single company, which pushed on for half a
mile, spreading out as it went into a thin line of skirmishers.
Meanwhile a strange interview took place near the great oak which had
sheltered brigade headquarters. As the unknown officer, whom Wallis
had noted, approached it, Col. Waldron was standing by his horse ready
to mount. The commandant was a man of medium size, fairly
handsome in person and features, and apparently about twenty-eight
years of age. Perhaps it was the singular breadth of his forehead which
made the lower part of his face look so unusually slight and feminine.
His eyes were dark hazel, as clear, brilliant, and tender as a girl's, and
brimming full of a pensiveness which seemed both loving and
melancholy. Few persons, at all events few women, who looked upon
him ever looked beyond his eyes. They were very fascinating, and in a
man's countenance very strange. They were the kind of eyes which
reveal passionate romances, and which make them.
By his side stood a boy, a singularly interesting and beautiful boy,
fair-haired and blue-eyed, and delicate in color. When this boy saw the
stranger approach he turned as pale as marble, slid away from the
brigade commander's side, and disappeared behind a group of staff
officers and orderlies. The new-comer also became deathly white as he
glanced after the retreating youth. Then he dismounted, touched his cap
slightly and, as if mechanically, advanced a few steps, and said
hoarsely, "I believe this is Colonel Waldron. I am Captain Fitz Hugh,
of the --th Delaware."
Waldron put his hand to his revolver, withdrew it instantaneously, and
stood motionless.

"I am on leave of absence from my regiment, Colonel," continued Fitz
Hugh, speaking now with an elaborate ceremoniousness of utterance
significant of a struggle to suppress violent emotion. "I suppose you
can understand why I made use of it in seeking you."
Waldron hesitated; he stood gazing at the earth with the air of one who
represses deep pain; at last, after a profound sigh, he raised his eyes and
answered:
"Captain, we are on the eve of a battle. I must attend to my public
duties first. After the battle we will settle our private affair."
"There is but one way to settle it, Colonel."
"You