Crittenden

"Why--why, bless my soul, aren't you Tom Crittenden's son?"

"Yes, sir," said Crittenden.

"I knew it. Bless me, I was thinking of him just that moment--naturally

enough--and you startled me. I thought it was Tom himself." He grasped

the Kentuckian's hand warmly.

"Yes," he said, studying his face. "You look just as he did when we

courted and camped and fought together." The tone of his voice moved

Crittenden deeply. "And you are going to the war--good--good! Your

father would be with me right now if he were alive. Come to see me right

away. I may go to Tampa any day." And, as he rode away, he stopped

again.

"Of course you have a commission in the Legion."

"No, sir. I didn't ask for one. I was afraid the Legion might not get to

Cuba." The General smiled.

"Well, come to see me"--he smiled again--"we'll see--we'll see!" and he

rode on with his hands still folded on the pommel of his saddle and his

eyes still lifted, dreamily, upward.

It was guard-mount and sunset when Crittenden, with a leaping heart,

reached Rivers's camp. The band was just marching out with a corps of

trumpeters, when a crash of martial music came across the hollow from

the camp on the next low hill, followed by cheers, which ran along the

road and were swollen into a mighty shouting when taken up by the camp

at the foot of the hill. Through the smoke and faint haze of the early

evening, moved a column of infantry into sight, headed by a band.

"Tramp, tramp, tramp,

The boys are marching!"

Along the brow of the hill, and but faintly seen through the smoky haze,

came the pendulum-like swing of rank after rank of sturdy legs, with

guidons fluttering along the columns and big, ghostly army wagons

rumbling behind. Up started the band at the foot of the hill with a

rousing march, and up started every band along the line, and through

madly cheering soldiers swung the regiment on its way to Tampa--magic

word, hope of every chafing soldier left behind--Tampa, the point of

embarkation for the little island where waited death or glory.

Rivers was deeply dejected.

"Don't you join any regiment yet," he said to Crittenden; "you may get

hung up here all summer till the war is over. If you want to get into

the fun for sure--wait. Go to Tampa and wait. You might come here, or go

there, and drill and watch for your chance." Which was the conclusion

Crittenden had already reached for himself.