While George Washington ate, solemnly and long, investigations were made as to the truth of his story. Colonel Austin made them himself. He wished to make sure, for his sympathy was deeply enlisted, and he did not intend to be deceived. He found the little fellow had not departed from the facts in the least particular. He belonged to nobody; but every one who knew him had a kindly word for him. He was known as an honest, good-natured little waif, with a reputation for hitting the bull's-eye every time any one would lend him a gun at a rifle-match.
Upon the evidence gathered the boy was taken into the army as the "mascot of the Ninth," and before long he was the pet of the men in that city of white tents, and became known as "G. W.," for who in that hot, lazy place could waste time in calling him all of his various historical national names? It was "G. W." here and "G. W." there. He danced for them and sang for them, and was never weary, never ill-tempered.
When once he had had enough to eat—and for many days the men thought that he never could get enough—he became the healthiest and ruggedest of boys, and beyond doubt one of the happiest that ever breathed.
II.
THE BOX FROM UP NORTH.
One day a box came from the North. It was addressed to "George Washington McKinley Jones, care of Colonel Austin;" but as G. W. was incapable of reading he sharply questioned the messenger who delivered it.
"How you know dis 'blongs ter me?" asked he.
"There's your name," said the messenger.
"Whar?"