Her story was soon told. She was from East Tennessee, where her husband had been killed by the Confederates, and all her property destroyed. Being destitute, she thought that if she could procure a situation for her boy as drummer, she could find employment for herself.
While she told her story, the little fellow kept his eyes intently fixed upon the countenance of the captain. And just as the latter was about to say that he could not take so small a boy, the lad spoke out:—
“Don't be afraid, Captain,” said he, “I can drum.”
This was spoken with so much confidence that the captain smiled and said to the sergeant:—
“Well, well, bring the drum, and order our fifer to come here.”
In a few moments a drum was produced and the fifer, a round-shouldered, good-natured fellow, who stood six feet tall, made his appearance. Upon being introduced to the lad, he stooped down, resting his hands on his knees, and, after peering into the little fellow's face for a moment, said:—
“My little man, can you drum?”
“Yes, sir,” answered the boy promptly. “I drummed for Captain Hill in Tennessee.”
The fifer immediately straightened himself, and, placing his fife to his lips, played the “Flowers of Edinburgh,” one of the most difficult things to follow with the drum. And nobly did the little fellow follow him, showing himself to be master of the drum.
When the music ceased the captain turned to the mother and observed:—