“Yes,” smiling. “And you will be my lieutenant, for I command your old troop of the Second. You will be a böd seledik (rare bird) to us in the Second, and, as I am ordered to join my regiment on the 10th of next month, I intend applying to have you ordered back with me.”
Several smiled at the young captain’s cool impudence, but Cobb simply bowed in recognition of the other’s desire for his company to his regiment.
Captain Hathaway, of the Second Cavalry, was twenty-eight years of age, tall in stature, slight in build, and wearing a little, light mustache. With a glass in his eye, and a voice which sounded low and sweet, he was, with all his known cool impudence, a right clever fellow. But he had taken a dislike to Junius Cobb—and why?
“Yes, Mr. Cobb,” taking up the army style of address to lieutenants, “I fear you will have to give up your good times here and join me. Of course they cannot refuse my request,” with a new adjustment of his eyeglass.
“Mr. Hathaway—”
“Captain, sir; Captain Hathaway. You forget you are addressing your troop commander;” with dignity.
A flush overspread Cobb’s face, and he bit his lip to keep from replying in hot terms to this uncalled-for insolence.
“Captain Hathaway, you will join your regiment before the 10th, and I will not be with you. Good morning.” He turned on his heel and moved toward a group near the President.
With a laugh at the blank and crushed expression of the young Captain, the others sauntered away.
“Damme! but that’s cool. Going to order his Captain to his regiment, eh! Going to get me out of the way and take my girl. Well, I guess not!” and he, too, moved off.