But long before Dick reached the barracks he had another shock; for, all at once, in turning a corner, he saw a well-built private sauntering along on the other side whose face was unmistakable, though how he had become a soldier was more than Dick could grasp.
The man did not see him, and Dick passed on for a few yards, feeling his forehead, then his pulse, to find the latter a little accelerated, the former perfectly cool.
“I’m not going mad!” he muttered, excitedly. “I may be dreaming, but—”
He said no more, but turned sharply and followed the private, who was evidently taking his first walk through the town, and had become a little interested in the place.
Dick did not hesitate, but followed the private till he was close behind him, and then uttered one word sharply, which brought him round on the instant, to stare hard at the speaker, but without any change of countenance.
“Yes; what is it? I’ve got my pass.”
Dick could not speak again for the peculiar feeling of emotion which troubled him, and the man began to frown.
“Was it me you meant when you called ‘Jerry’?” he said.
“Yes; you are Jerry Brigley.”
“I’m Jeremiah Brigley,” was the snappish reply, “and I tell you I’ve got my pass. There you are.”