"Not in the regulars, sir."
"That man is lame, sir," interposed a sergeant.
"It is an old wound," says the man eagerly, "and it's only so once in while. I can ride first-rate."
"What was your regiment?"
"Seventh Wisconsin, sir."
"What! Were you at Gainesville?"
"Yes, sir. Wounded there."
A knot of officers—Merritt, Mason, Sumner, and Montgomery—who fought through the war with the Army of the Potomac, are standing there as the adjutant turns.
"Sergeant, take this man to Company 'K' and fit him out—and—stop a moment. Bring him to my tent to-night after supper. Gentlemen, that's an Iron Brigade man."
That evening a Company "K" sergeant scratches the flap of the adjutant's tent—you cannot knock when there is no door—and presents himself with the recruit-veteran. The latter looks puzzled, but perfectly self-possessed; answers without hesitation two or three rapidly propounded questions as to names of his regimental officers in '62, and then seems completely bewildered as the adjutant takes him cordially by the hand and bids him welcome. However, it did not require many words to explain the matter.