“I’ll blow it,” offered Ned, friendly. “Shall I?”
“You!” grunted Trooper Odell. “It’s the rally, by the bugle, the general wants. If you’ll hold this hoss a second, now——” and red and flustered he hauled hard.
“I’ll blow it. I can,” repeated Ned, eagerly, anxious to show his mettle and to help the embarrassed Odell.
As the obstinate horse pranced the bugle swung free again, jerked fairly around so that Ned needed only to reach and grab it. He promptly applied it to his lips (while clutching tight with his one hand and his two shins), and blew the rally the best that he could. Clear and passably regular pealed the high notes.
“Good enough, b’gorry!” muttered Odell. “But what’ll the general say? Give me that horn.”
The moment that the last note died away the general had wheeled his horse, to gaze.
“Who blew that call?” he shouted.
“I did,” announced Ned, bravely. “Mr. Odell was managing his horse, and he didn’t say I might but I did.”
“The boy took the horn before I could stop him, sir,” explained the flurried Odell. “I’ll blow it now, sir. This pesky hoss——” and Bugler Odell jerked savagely at the bit, pulling his mount to its haunches.
“He blew it mighty well, then,” declared General Custer. “Try it again, boy. Put more force behind it, so those soldiers yonder’ll hear. We’re sounding the rally for them to come; see?”