"It leaves you out of the race for vacancies among the corporals."
"No matter, sir. That'll come when we reorganize for three years."
And so Snipe turned his long musket and heavy cartridge-box over to the first sergeant, dumped his knapsack and blanket into the field-officer's wagon, and straddled the major's spare horse. At any other time he might have felt the sense of exaltation that is inevitable to the boy or man who knows how to ride, but the young soldier's spirits were dashed and drooping. There was no time for brooding, however. The New-Englanders were on the march for Manassas. The dusty roads were thronged with troops, trudging buoyantly ahead, confident in the strength of their numbers and counting upon a conqueror's entrance into Richmond within ten days. Somewhere about noon, midway between Fairfax and Centreville, the "route march" was suddenly changed to silence and to cadence step. A staff-officer had accosted the colonel. The commands "halt" and "front" brought them into line facing the left; then the regiment was dressed back to the right until it stood aligned at the roadside, and Snipe found himself seated in saddle just to the left rear of his major, who had reined up at the left of the line. Looking back along the dust-covered route, the lad could see that the regiments following them in column were also halting and "fronting," as soon as closed to proper distance, and then, with ordered arms, standing at ease and wondering what was coming. Presently, far back towards Fairfax, there uprose a cheer that was taken up along the line, and Lawton and his major, craning their necks, could see a body of horsemen coming through the slowly settling dust-clouds, following the lead of a soldierly-looking man on a big gray. A band struck up "Hail Columbia;" the regiment directly to their left began to take up the shout of acclaim, beginning away down at the tenth company, and the handsome horseman raised his forage-cap and spurred rapidly on. Again he raised it as he passed the colors, and the shout of greeting rolled into the right wing; and now the New England lads could see the yellow sash and the gold-embroidered belt, and knew a general officer was coming, and they, too, prepared to relieve their dusty lungs and overflowing spirits with a cheer. But all on a sudden the old colonel's shrill voice was heard, "Attentio-o-on battalion!" and talk and laughter ceased. "Shoulder-r-r homps!" and every musket jumped from the ground. "Prese-e-e-nt homps!" and nine hundred glistening barrels bounced out in front of nine hundred martial noses. The silken colors, State and National, drooped forward in homage to the coming dignitary. The major sat bolt upright and looking straight over his horse's ears, his sword lowered to the salute, and Snipe's hand went up to the visor of his grimy cap, and the major-general smiled affably as he came trotting by, his horse shying sidewise with eyes and ears attent, and the grizzled colonel got a word of soldierly praise from the cap-tipping commander as he sped swiftly on, the staff trying hard to look dignified and keep their seats and distance at the same time, which several of them, being new to the business, found it hard to do. Behind them jogged a troop of regular cavalry,—the general's escort,—veterans who had spent years in saddle and showed it; and then with gratified pride that he and his regiment had given proper and soldierly recognition to the chief, "instead of yelling like a town-meeting," said the colonel, that veteran of the Mexican war days permitted his men once more to "order" and rest and await developments. They were not long in coming. Away down to the left, over the shouts and greetings of other commands, could be heard the characteristic "Hi! hi! hi!" of the Fire Zouaves, and presently in long column of pieces, cannoneers mounted, two business-like batteries of the regulars came clinking along, their powerful, mettlesome horses moving like so much perfect machinery at steady walk, their drivers responding to the chaff and cheers and comments of the militia and volunteers by occasional droll wink or thrust of tongue into the nearest cheek, their nimble gun detachments grinning exuberantly, but rarely uttering a word. And then at last, when even their baggage-wagons had trundled by, a band was heard along the thoroughfare behind them, and through the dust came stalking a superb drum-major, his baton swinging in one hand, his huge bear-skin shako dangling from the other arm; and then the halted column coughed and sneezed as a strong regiment of infantry marched silently by in column of fours, determined, evidently, to impress upon the rest of the division their martial appearance and discipline. And then, in vivid contrast, right behind them, came the loose gray jackets and trousers, the red shirts and faces of the Fire Zouaves, grinning, chaffing, "hi, hiing" every foot of the way, and Major Stark turned and signalled to his orderly, and the lad rode up alongside.
"These are your old friends, I take it, Lawton. Sit here where you can see them."
The colors went sweeping by, flaunting in the sunshine despite the besmirching dust, and the seventh company came swinging along, and all of a sudden a wiry-looking sergeant file-closer glanced up and shouted, "Hullo, Snipey! How are you?" after the Bowery fashion of the day. "Hullo, Snipey!" came the greeting from half a dozen brawny throats. "Say, sonny, did you git square with that Metamora gang before you come away?" "Hullo, Snipe! Where's Shorty all dis time?" "Say, boy, what deestrick d'you run to now?" And before anybody could say a word to prevent it, half a dozen laughing, rollicking fellows sprang from the ranks and were crowding about Lawton as he sat blushing, half pleased, half ashamed, and shaking the lad by the hand. "Come over and see us when we git to camp," they cried in chorus, as, clamping their heavy sword-bayonets to their sides with the left hand, and trailing the brown barrels of their "special" rifles, they hurried on to catch their company. It was all over in a minute, but the New-Englanders looked curiously at the major's orderly, and that quiet-mannered, taciturn officer finally turned, with something like a smile.
"One would hardly say those fellows could have brought you ill news, Lawton. They seem like old friends."
"I knew them well when at school in New York, sir."
"Who is Shorty?"
"He was my chum, sir. I thought he'd be here long ago. He was a drummer in the Seventy-first New York. His relatives wouldn't let him come, I suppose."
"Would yours, do you think,—if they knew?"