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.
"You see, the flying splinter of shell that had crushed him down had
torn a frightful furrow in his scalp, and had stunned him for a time;
but the skull wasn't fractured, and so, after a few weeks, he came
back from hospital to us, strong and hearty, and nearly as handsome as
ever. And now, Ned," glancing towards the major, and holding a flaming
match above his freshly filled cob-pipe, "I've demonstrated to you
how a band--if it's a good one and judicious in the selection of its
music--can call a dead man back to life."
"But the fight, sir?" asked Van Sickles, from his lounging-place upon
the cushions; "how did the fight come out?"
"Why, that's so! I forgot to mention how the affair ended," said the
colonel, rising with a yawn. "Sam, you tell 'em; you know as much as I
do about the rest of it."
"Wal, I dunno's thar's much more t' tell," drawled the old gunner,
in response to this command. "Fact is, thar warn't much fightin'
a'ter th' reg'ment'd got through with its praise-meetin'. Ye see,
soon's th' ol' gineral heard th' sound o' th' guns down Ashford way,
he started a couple o' troops an' our batt'ry a-jumpin', an' we met
Cun'l Burleigh's messenger on th' road. Wal, we sweat our teams some,
an' got down thar real suddin; an' 'fore we'd done enough firin' t'
heat th' guns, th' rebs pulled out o' th' clearin', hoss, foot, an'
artill'ry--only thar warn't no hoss--an' took 'emselves off out o' th'
way."
"Yes, that was the way it ended," said the chief, as Sam closed his
official report of the action. "And now we must be getting along
towards bed. Don't set too stiff a pace for us, Ned, in the parade;
for all of the old boys aren't so able-bodied as I am, and to-morrow
there'll be many a man in the Grand Army who'll have a hard struggle
between pride and stiffened joints. Wonder why I lighted this pipe!
Well, it's late, and I'm going to risk being caught on the street with
it. Good-night, Sam."
"What's become of your man Sheldon, since the war?" asked Van Sickles,
as the little party picked its way down the stairs.
"I've lost him," replied the colonel, in an altered tone. "It's a long
story, Van, and a sad one. Some other time, perhaps, I'll tell you;
but not now."
THE SEVENTH MAJOR
THE SEVENTH MAJOR.
"I was a-tryin'," Sam once meditatively remarked, up in The Battery,
as he straightened himself up after carefully depositing a fresh
log upon the blazing fire,--"I was a-tryin' t' figger out how many
majors we've got now. Startin' at th' top, thar's three _real_ majors,
which are three; then thar be th' surg'n--he bein' also a major
likewise--comin' t' four; then th' sargint-major an' drum-major totals
her up t' six--an' then in comes Major Larry Callahan, at th' wind-up,
makin' sev'n. Sev'n majors! Tol'able gen'rous outfit fur one reg'ment,
hain't it?"
Well, yes--I suppose it is; and yet all seven of our majors ably fill
their positions, while Major Larry Callahan certainly fills _his_ to
the brim.
He never was enlisted, and his name has no place between the heavy
leather covers of the paymaster's cherished roll-book, and yet he
is just as much a part of the regiment as the colonel commanding, or
for that matter, as the adjutant--and everybody knows how big a man a
gold-corded adjutant considers himself. Why, I honestly believe that
Colonel Elliott--at such times as it seems good to parade the Third,
to exhibit the power of the Commonwealth's "Strong Right Arm"--never
would think of giving the order to start into motion his seven hundred
men unless he first had made sure that Larry was at his post in front
of the big bass-drum. "Is Mulcahy in the ranks?" asked Hancock at
Gettysburg. "He is? Then let the battle proceed!"--and that rather
well illustrates our feelings in regard to our seventh major.
It was two years ago last June when he came to us. We just had topped
off a week of hard work in camp by a long, hot parade through the
dusty streets of the city, and six of our twelve companies had been
dismissed to take trains for their out-of-town stations, while the
rest of the regiment, with the drum-corps and the band, had marched up
town to the big armory. How he got by the sentry at the door is more
than I can tell, but somehow he managed it; I dare say he "sneaked it"
in, under cover of the big drum which afterwards became his idol.
Captain Tom Stearns, of "A," had turned his company over to his first
sergeant, and stood mopping his forehead with his handkerchief, as he
watched his men slowly filing through the door of the drill-hall on
their way upstairs to quarters, when he felt a tug at the skirts of
his coat and heard a hoarse little voice demanding, "C'n I get a job
carryin' de drum--say, can't I, mister? I c'n tote it jus' 's well's
dat coon youse got dere, an' I'd match d' rest o' de men better."
The captain looked down, and discovered, about at the level of his
belt, a fiery red head, crowned by the ruin of a once-white straw hat;
while a snub nose, an enormous mouth, a lavish display of freckles,
and a twinkling pair of impish gray eyes made up the prominent
features of the face upturned for his inspection.
"How in time did _you_ get in here?" politely asked Stearns, taking
the intruder by the ear, and entirely ignoring his request.
"Follied de band, same's youse did. Le' go me ear, will yer! Say, c'n
I carry de drum?"
"No, you can't. Now, 'bout face--and _march_!" replied the captain,
releasing the boy's ear. "Look out for the guard at the door, or he'll
make a pincushion of you when you go by him."
The ragged little urchin turned away, his face puckering into a mass
of wrinkles in which a fair share of the freckles disappeared, dug a
dirty fist into each eye, and started towards the door.
"Here, come back for a minute!" called Stearns, who, though dusty,
hot, and tired, felt some compunction for his roughness, and in amends
meditated the offering of a dime. "What are you crying about?"
"I ain't cryin'; an' I wanted de job--an' I'm hungry," said the boy,
stopping and turning about.
"You _were_ crying; and you can't have the job--and if you're hungry,
why don't you go home to get a bite to eat, instead of hanging around
processions?" said the captain, thrusting his hand into his pocket in
search of a peace-offering.
"Ain't got no home t' go to," came the brief but comprehensive reply.
"Haven't, eh? What's your name?"
"Callahan--Larry Callahan," replied the imp, coming a step nearer.
"Say, _why_ can't I carry de drum? Dat coon's clo'es would jus' about
fit me, an' I sh'd t'ink de fellies would ruther 'sociate wid me dan
wid him."
This novel view of the fitness of things seemed to come home with
considerable force to the tall captain, for he grinned and said,
"Well, I'm not sure that there isn't something in that view of the
situation. Come along upstairs with me. I've got to shift out of my
uniform, and after that I'll see what I can do for you. I'm hungry
myself, and I've a faint suspicion that I'm also thirsty, so I can
sympathize with you to a certain extent. Come along, 'Major'--we'll go
foraging later."
In the company rooms there was tumult, as there always is when sixty
men find themselves jammed into a confined space and simultaneously
making the attempt to change from the blue of the soldier to the
plainer and better-fitting costume of the civilian. Belt buckles
clattered, locker doors slammed, and now and again a stray bar of the
latest popular song brought forth either a rousing chorus or else a
roar of derision loud enough to drown all other sounds. Conversation,
though rather fragmentary, was plentiful and generously spiced, for
the week in camp had supplied the men with a brand-new stock of gags
and guys, and a torrent of chaff, in which no one escaped, was raging
unchecked.
"Who'll get the grand bounce for running the guard last Thursday
night?" roared a voice, just as the captain and his new-found
acquaintance reached the door of the company quarters; and,
"Smith--_Private_ Smith!" came back the answering yell.
"Yes, and the captain's got a recruit for your place, me boy," said a
man standing near the door of the equipment-room, catching sight of
Stearns' guest. "Come here, Smithy, and get onto the new un that's
going to stuff out your uniform."
Stearns caught this last remark and smiled at it, for he had found
recent occasion to "read the riot act" to one Private Smith, and he
remembered having said that he might feel compelled to give that
unruly warrior's uniform to some man more worthy of filling it.
In the snug officers' dressing-room the two lieutenants were engaged
in freeing themselves from their heavy, uncomfortable dress-coats.
Both looked up as the captain entered, and both laughed when he said,
"Gentlemen, I have the honor of presenting Major Larry Callahan, who
has inspected the regiment, and expresses complete satisfaction at
its apparent efficiency. He more especially dwells upon the soldierly
bearing of the drum-corps, though he criticises the complexion of
the musician at the forward end of the boomer-drum, making the point
that the presence of this black sheep among our tuneful lambs is in
doubtful taste. I might add that he aspires to the position himself.
Harry," to the second lieutenant, "you're smoking a cigarette! It's a
nasty and often fatal habit--and you may give me one. It's the first
article of war that a junior officer always must set 'em up for his
superiors."
Stearns lighted the cigarette which this gentle hint brought forth
from his subaltern's case, hung his heavy helmet upon a projecting
gas-burner, and began leisurely to strip himself of his trappings.
"Where did you get it?" asked the senior lieutenant, nodding at
Larry, and then turning to deposit his sword and belt in his locker.
"He introduced himself to me, down in the hall," replied the captain,
sighing contentedly as he flung his coat, with its row of jingling
marksman's medals, across the nearest chair. "I'm to have the pleasure
of his company at lunch, as soon as I can get into street costume. I
crave food, and--by the Great White Label!--I crave pure, sparkling,
cold water, or anything cold and wet," and he softly hummed to himself,
"No-bod-y knows how dry-I-am!"
"Then you'll not come over to the club with us?" asked the younger
lieutenant, ruefully. "I know it seems a journey--way across town on
a day like this--but we'd counted on your coming. Westbrook, of the
Fourth, is going to meet us, and possibly Van Sickles will be there.
Can't you fix it?"
"No, not to-day, boys," said the captain, taking from his locker a
straw hat and placing it upon his head, with a mental comparison
between its weight and that of his stiff, spiked helmet; "I can't do
it to-day. I'm going to the hotel for a bite, and then I'm bound
straight for home--and a tub. Well, so-long! Remember, I must see
you both here to-morrow afternoon--say, at half-past four. Come on,
Major," and with a nod to his lieutenants he left the room.
The two younger men winked at each other, when the captain had
disappeared, and the junior found occasion to remark, "Isn't he the
gaudy old crank! Always picking up _some_ curio or other--but this
last 'find' of his comes near beating 'em all, eh?"
"It's one of his original ways of amusing himself," said the other,
stepping to the mirror to adjust his tie, "and I dare say he enjoys
it--but it isn't every one that could afford to go 'round in that way,
with a dirty little ruffian tagging along at his heels. Come, Harry,
aren't you ready yet? Well, get a gait on you, then--we don't want to
keep Westbrook in agony any longer than necessary."
Over at the hotel, Stearns put his guest through a vigorous course of
soap-and-towel exercise, and then ushered him into the gentlemen's
_café_. To be sure, the waiters stared a bit when the tall captain and
his dilapidated follower took possession of a table; but Stearns was
a frequent and liberal patron, and so--in spite of the exceedingly
doubtful social standing of his companion--his order received prompt
and willing attention. In the attack upon the food the honors were
easy, but I'm reasonably sure that Larry gave good account of himself,
for I've had the privilege of seeing him eat, in his company mess at
camp, and so I'm able to vouch for his ability as a trencher-man.
So long as anything eatable remained on the table, conversation
languished, but when the last crumb had disappeared--a matter to
which Larry probably attended--the captain called for a glass of
Kümel-and-ice, lighted a cigar, and said, "Well, Major Callahan, I
trust that good digestion may be pleased to attend your appetite. How
are you feeling--well lined?"
"By Jinks!" responded his guest, drawing his forefinger across his
throat, "me tank's loaded 'way up t' here. Dat was dandy grub, de bes'
I ever got."
"Can't you go something more?" asked Stearns, much gratified at the
spirit in which his hospitality had been received.
"No-o, I'm 'fraid I couldn't fin' de room," said the little fellow,
slowly and with an air of deep regret. "I'd like t' 'commodate yer,
but me 'commodations is all took up."
"If that's the case, then," said the captain, raising his glass to
inspect the icy film with which its exterior had become coated, "we'll
indulge in a gentlemanly chat. You're _sure_ there's nothing else you
want?"
"Well, I _smokes_," was Larry's suggestive response to this last
question, "an' if youse 've got a cig'rette--"
"No, you _don't_ smoke," put in the captain with some emphasis; "at
least, you don't smoke here."
"Jus' 's yer say, o' course," replied his guest. "I don't care much
'bout it--on'y I t'ought p'r'aps 'twould be sort o' comp'ny t' yer."
"Well, it wouldn't be," said Stearns, pushing his chair a trifle
farther away from the table. "And now, Major, suppose you tell me
something about yourself. You say you've no home--what's the reason?"
The boy took a big gulp of water, hesitated for an instant, and
then--catching the kindly expression in the captain's eye--rested his
elbows upon the table, and told his story: how he never had known
a father; how his mother had been sent away for a long term at the
women's reformatory; and how he himself had been consigned to the
fostering care of an "Institution," but had managed to evade the
officer who had been sent to conduct him to it.
"I s'pose I'd oughter ha' went t' de 'Home,'" admitted Larry, as
he concluded his brief and pitiful life's history; "but, hones', I
couldn't stan' it t' live de way dem kids does. Dey gets dere t'ree
meals a day, an' has a place t' sleep--but dat's de whole of it. An'
as fer fun, why, what does _dey_ know 'bout fun? Nothin'! Jus' youse
look at 'em sometime, an' see what a peepy-looking lot dey is. Huh!
dey ain't got no guts at all!" and with this inelegant summing-up
of the moral effects of charity-rearing he dismissed as absurd any
possibility of his subjecting himself to its tender mercies.
Captain Stearns heard the boy through, and then for a few minutes sat
thoughtfully smoking. Finally he fixed his eyes upon the little gamin,
and abruptly asked, "Larry, are you honest?"
"Yessir," replied the boy promptly, meeting unfalteringly the
captain's glance, "Yessir, I'm dead on de square, an' if 'twasn't dat
I'm tryin' t' keep clear o' de 'Home,' I'd jus' 's lives walk up t'
any copper in town."
"That's business," said Stearns, "and I'm glad to hear you say so.
Now, I'm going to give you some money, to keep you running until
tomorrow,"--with this he drew out a handful of change,--"and if you're
playing a square game with me you'll meet me tomorrow noon, at the
armory. Ask for Captain Stearns, and they'll let you in. I'm not sure
that I can do anything for you--I can't today, at any rate--but we can
talk over the situation. Is it a go?"
"Yep, I'll be wid youse," said the boy, hesitatingly taking the money
which his entertainer pushed across to him. "A quarter, an' ten's
t'irty-five--an' t'ree nick'ls is a ha'f!" he went on, inspecting the
tokens of the captain's munificence. "Gee-cricketty! w'at'll I do wid
all de wealt'? Somebody'll be marryin' me fer me forchune, 'f I ain't
careful!"
"You needn't spend it all, unless you have to," said Stearns; "and if
you have any of it left, when you meet me tomorrow, I shall think all
the better of you. See here," he went on, yielding to a sudden whim,
and tossing over a bill as he spoke, "suppose you put on a little
style, and pay for this lunch of ours!"
Larry's eyes twinkled as he clutched at the bill, and his mouth
twisted itself into a grin of alarming proportions, but in an instant
he assumed an air of unruffled composure, and beckoning to the waiter
he inquired, "Sa-ay, cully, w'at's de taxes on dese 'freshments?"
The astonished waiter, check in hand, for a moment stood glancing
back and forth from the captain to the ragged but unabashed urchin.
But Larry, waving the bill in his face, demanded, "Have youse b'en
drinkin'? I axed youse de damage on de whole layout!"
"Yas, sah," at length said the bewildered colored man, laying the
check before the boy, "I heerd yo'!"
"Den _dat's_ all right," said Larry, picking up the check and glancing
at it, only to break out with, "_W'at!_ Two dollars an' a quarter?
Why, I seen a place, on'y dis mornin', where dey gives youse a square
meal--'de bes' in de city,' it said on de sign--fer twenty cents!"
"I think the check is correct," put in Stearns, smiling at the
indignant expression on Larry's face and the disgusted look of the
waiter. "Pay up--you're not being cheated."
After matters had been adjusted satisfactorily, the captain rose, held
out his hand to his guest, and said, "Well, my boy, I must be going.
Hope you enjoyed your lunch as well as I did mine. You'll drop in on
me tomorrow, eh?"
"Sure!" replied the major, as he hunted for a pocket secure enough for
the retaining of his suddenly acquired riches. "T'anks fer de grub,
an' I'm 'bliged fer all dis mon'. An' _say_," coaxingly, "youse _must_
have pull enough fer t' get me de place on de drum."
"I'm afraid I can't promise you that," said the captain, stopping as
they reached the street, "for the drum-corps is rather outside my
command. Well, I turn off here--goodbye, until tomorrow noon, Major."
The next forenoon Captain Tom varied his customary Sunday routine by
taking a stroll through a quarter of the city with which he had but
slight acquaintance, and casually dropping in at the station house
of the precinct wherein Larry claimed former residence. A short chat
with the lieutenant behind the rail brought out a number of unedifying
facts about the lad's parentage, but Stearns found that his _protégé_
had kept to the truth in telling his story; and so, considerably
encouraged, he took a cab and went to meet his appointment at the
armory.
Promptly at noon Major Larry reported with an elaborate sweep of the
hand evidently meant to represent a military salute, and with a most
expectant grin upon his mobile features.
"On time to a minute, that's proper," said Captain Tom, drawing
out the sliding book-shelf of his desk, and utilizing it as a
resting-place for his long legs. "Sit down, Larry, and we'll have a
conference of the powers. How did your 'wealt'' hold out?"
Silently, but with a splendid air of pride, the boy drew a handful of
coins from his pocket, came over to the captain's desk, and spread out
his capital for inspection. Stearns counted the collection, and found
that it aggregated eighty-two cents.
"H'm! so you're a young Napoleon of finance?" he said, as the little
fellow put back the money into his pocket. "Well, tell me how you
managed it."
"It was dis way," explained Larry, balancing himself on the back of
a chair: "t' start wid, I had de ha'f youse gin me; an' den I went
into de papey biz, and sol' enough t' make twenty cents more. Now, dat
was 'velvet'--dem two dimes was--an' so I went t' pitchin' pennies
wid de Pie Alley gang, an' I win t'irty more, makin' an even skimole.
Well, I 'stood' on dat, 'cause I wasn't takin' no chances; an' I've
got de stack, 'ceptin' t'ree cents I give Reddy Burns fer a shine,
and fifteen w'at I blew in on me breakfus'. I slep' wid Reddy las'
night, y' know, an' so I paid 'im fer me lodgin' by lettin' 'im black
me boots--which wasn't no snap fer 'im, 'cause one o' dem boots is
a cloth 'un, an' he kep' shinin' fer an hour 'fore he c'd get it t'
glitterin'."
"Where did you get your supper?" inquired Stearns, leaning back in his
chair and laughing at Larry's report of his business transactions.
"Oh, I didn't want much supper, 'cause it was so late when you an' me
was eatin'," returned the major, jingling his coins in his pocket,
"but I matched wid Slinky Smith fer a piece o' pie, down in de alley,
an stuck'm. Say, I'll give back dat ha'f, if youse want it--an' how
'bout de drum?"