Outside the camp the road was full of half-angry, bitterly disappointed

infantry--Chaffee's men. When he reached the camp of the cavalry at the

foot of the hill again, a soldier called his name as he passed--a grimy

soldier--and Grafton stopped in his tracks.

"Well, by God!"

It was Crittenden, who smiled when he saw Grafton's bewildered face.

Then the Kentuckian, too, stared in utter amazement at a black face

grinning over Grafton's shoulder.

"Bob!" he said, sharply.

"Yessuh," said Bob humbly.

"Whar are you doing here?"

"Nothin', Ole Cap'n--jes doin' nothin'," said Bob, with the naïveté of

a child. "Jes lookin' for you."

"Is that your negro?" A sarcastic Lieutenant was asking the question.

"He's my servant, sir."

"Well, we don't allow soldiers to take their valets to the field."

"My servant at home, sir, I meant. He came of his own accord."

"Go find Basil," Crittenden said to Bob, "and if you can't find him," he

added in a lower tone, "and want anything, come back here to me."

"Yessuh," said Bob, loath to go, but, seeing the Lieutenant scowling, he

moved on down the road.

"I thought you were a Captain," said Grafton. Crittenden laughed.

"Not exactly."

"Forward," shouted the Lieutenant, "march!"

Grafton looked Crittenden over.

"Well, I swear," he said heartily, and, as Crittenden moved forward,

Grafton stood looking after him. "A regular--I do be damned!"

That night Basil wrote home. He had not fired his musket a single time.

He saw nothing to shoot at, and he saw no use shooting until he did have

something to shoot at. It was terrible to see men dead and wounded, but

the fight itself was stupid--blundering through a jungle, bullets

zipping about, and the Spaniards too far away and invisible. He wanted

to be closer.

"General Carter has sent for me to take my place on his staff. I don't

want to go, but the Colonel says I ought. I don't believe I would, if

the General hadn't been father's friend and if my 'bunkie' weren't

wounded. He's all right, but he'll have to go back. I'd like to have

his wound, but I'd hate to have to go back. The Colonel says he's sorry

to lose me. He meant to make me a corporal, he says. I don't know what

for--but Hooray!

"Brother was not in the fight, I suppose. Don't worry about me--please

don't worry.




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