“Where is Wing?” inquired Justin.
“I don’t know, sir; he walked away by himself. He never stops with me, or any of the boys, when he can help it,” answered Hay, touching his cap.
Colonel Rosenthal nodded, and strolled on, followed by Hay.
“So it appears that the great Major Monck cannot receive us this morning,” said Colonel Rosenthal, speaking more to himself than to his orderly.
“No, sir! May I tell you why, sir?” briskly asked Hay.
“Why, they say that he is indisposed.”
“He is getting over a glorious old drunk, sir!”
“Hay!”
“Yes, he is, sir! The men are all saying it! I heard them muttering about it. They whisper that the ‘intoxified brute’—that’s what they called him—fuddled himself last night with the sutler’s brandy, and couldn’t lift his head from his pillow this morning, if it had been to save the camp.”
“The men speak so of their leader, Hay?”