“Golly!” grinned Jim. “I can hear Sion yell clear here. See those fellows yonder cutting capers, though!”
“Mr. Lamar’s been promoted colonel!” said Ernest, hearing a chance remark. “For what he did yesterday! He’s to lead us!”
“He’s some Napoleon himself, for this Austerlitz,” babbled Jim, joyously. “His middle name’s Bonaparte.”
Now all was elation and excitement, but dinner was eaten with a good appetite. The general seemed to be in no hurry. After dinner, time was given for the men to inspect their rifles and muskets.
“How many men have we, anyhow?” queried a soldier in Ernest’s squad.
“Seven hundred eighty-three, by last count.”
“That makes less than two to one against us.”
“No odds at all.”
The army were ready. Word passed that the general was thinking of postponing the attack until daybreak to-morrow. The men were on edge.
“Wonder what we are waiting for?” asked Jim.