Through the intervals between trees and bushes could be seen another line of military. An entire brigade of the National Guard was over on that road, also headed for the encampment field.
"Hey, Tommie!" called one boy to another. "Cut across with me. There's about ten miles of sogers over there!"
"Chase yourself, if you wanter go," yelled back Tommie. "They're militia. Me for here, with the real-thing sogers, just back from the wars!"
There was a laugh from many in the crowd, while the smaller boys whooped. It was hard even for the erect regulars in ranks to repress their grins when they received that tribute from a discerning small boy.
But the small American boy, even if ignorant of everything else in the soldier's manuals, can usually be depended upon to know the difference between regulars and militiamen. To the small boy's mind the difference is as great as that between the circus and the country fair.
Uncle Sam's musicians struck up again, just as the column entered the encampment field.
Wagon trains had gone on ahead.
Regulars and national guardsmen broke ranks at nearly the same moment.
Then followed an exhibition that some of the spectators never forgot.
In about a half an hour the regular troops had their tents up, in straight, precise company streets, and all their belongings moved in. Nor were these the "dog-tents" of field duty. As the encampment was to last for a week, the regulars slept at night in full-sized Army tents, with several men in each tent.