This was evidently an unexpected announcement to George Winslow who glanced up eagerly, as if in sudden exultation over the degradation of his superior officer. The quick motion did not escape the keen eye of Max, who went on with an increased distinctness of utterance,—
“Yes, and if he comes down to Private Osborn again, the boys all say ’t will be Corporal Arnold that will be taking his place as color-bearer. Are you open to congratulation yet? What are you kicking me under the table for, Winslow?” he asked, suddenly turning to his neighbor. “If you want anything, speak up and say so.”
“Beg pardon; didn’t know I hit you,” muttered Winslow, discomfited to find that his sudden angry motion had not passed unobserved.
“Well, your shoes must be made of cast iron, then,” returned Max composedly. “It’s my belief you’re nervous, Winslow, and oughtn’t to drink so much strong coffee.” And before Winslow could realize his intention, he had filled up his half-empty cup from the contents of the water-flask which stood beside him. That done, he moved back from the table, leaving Winslow to growl in peace, with the certainty that, true to the nature of the genuine bully, he would never dare attack an upper class man.
“What is it really about Osborn?” asked Leon, joining Max in the hall, a few minutes later.
“Why, Lieutenant Wilde walked in on him last night, about half-past eight. He suspected something was up, so he took them by storm. He found Osborn and Strong playing cards, and he just walked them down to the doctor’s. I don’t care for Strong; he’s no good, but I’m sorry for Osborn. But I’ll tell you, Leon, we were well out of it.”
“I’ve never been in it much with Osborn,” said Leon thoughtfully. “Hal won’t let me have much to say to him; but I shall miss him in drill, for he’s a good fellow there, and I shall hate to lose him.”
“Even if it gives you his place?” suggested Max wickedly.
“’twon’t,” said Leon. “My chance isn’t as good as Smythe’s; he’s sure to get it.”
“It’s a close call between you,” answered Max; “but everybody says that, if it comes to a promotion, you’ll get it. If you do, though, you may as well prepare for a row with Winslow, for he’s down on you already, and never will consent to having you put over him. He wanted to go for me, this morning; but he didn’t dare, for he knew I was more than a match for him. We had one little set-to last year, and that taught him a lesson. He’s queer, anyhow; he can’t stand it to be laughed at, so I just make fun of him whenever I can.”