Ralph trembled visibly, and every drop of blood turned to ice. He knew something must be wrong. Perhaps he ought not to have helped Charlie, but what else could he do? He walked briskly toward the tent of the officer.
Colonel Hopkins was a stern, battle-scarred old soldier, who wasted no words. His keen vision could discover merit, however, and as he looked steadily at Ralph, he took his measure at once.
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“Your captain tells me you saved the colors of the regiment, in the late engagement?”
“I did, Colonel.”
“And you risked your life in so doing.”
“Why should I not? I am a soldier, sir!” and the boy's “I will, with the help of Heaven!” was Ralph's fervent utterance, as he followed the orderly from the Colonel's tent.