A Little Dusky Hero

by Harriet T. Comstock

"Dat's fine! Dat's fine!" he gasped, waving his thin little brown hand as horses and riders tore past.

Then G. W. wearily asked, "Whar did you say yo' tent is, Colonel?"

"Right there, my boy."

G. W. looked.

"What's dat little tent fur, by de side ob it?"

"That's yours, G. W."

The nurse tightened her grasp of the trembling arm.

"Mine! dere's a flag a-flying on top, Colonel! An' dere's a little horse a-pawin' in de front ob de tent-do', Colonel!"

"All yours, G. W! Let's get on if you can, my boy!"

At last the tents were reached. They entered G. W.'s. It was perfect. Camp bed, soapbox table, flag-draped, a folding stool and all; and in the corner stood the little gun—the precious gun that had done such brave service for the Colonel.