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"If I go to sleep," I said,--"you know how I dream. I shall have one of those dreams of mine to carry around in my memory for a year, like a bullet in my back." So there the dear fellow had sat all night to give me my hourly powders of reassurance that I could be a quartermaster's clerk without shame.

"Do you want to see him?" I gathered my horse.

The aide-de-camp laughed like a rustic and vanished. "Smith," said the Major, "your eyes are--"

"The horse may have to save you," drawled the Arkansan.

"Good-bye,--Dick."

"Oh, shut your dirty face!" replied the son, while one of his cronies warned both against being overheard. But when this one added something further the old man snarled:

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