“No, sir; Tom is the only one. And he has taken a mighty queer animal to carry him through this war. He kicks.”
“Tom will have to manage that to suit himself. Why don’t he wait until we can capture a horse?”
“Because he would rather have that mule than anything else.”
“Tell him to take him, and welcome.”
Leon found his companions in the living-room, and when he told them that the Secretary of War had given Tom the mule he wanted, Tom was delighted. He promised the others that he would get to work early in the morning to break him of kicking, and wanted them to come over and see how it was done, and then turned away to his own camp, while Leon and Dawson started out to find the camp of the rebel who was kept under guard.
“There’s his lean-to right there,” said Leon, after walking some distance up the road. “Do you see any comparison between that sentry and the ones you left behind? I mean, do they sit down and warm themselves by a fire when they are left on duty?”
“Not much, they don’t,” answered Dawson, with a laugh. “If you had our officer of the day here he would snatch that fellow bald-headed. He ought to get up, hold his arms at support and pace his beat.”
“Who is it that the officer of the day is going to snatch bald-headed?” asked the sentry. He sat on a log with his rifle beside him, and he was warming his hands over the fire. He seemed to think that he could see everything that was going on, and he thought that was all that was required of him.
“The officer of the rebel army, if there was one here, would take you to task for not pacing your beat,” said Leon.
“Sho! What would he do that for?” asked the man. “That rebel hasn’t moved in there without my seeing him, and he can’t get away. Say, Johnny, are you asleep?”