And that report was given by his comrade to the punctual crowd as follows:
"When I came out to the charred pine stumps on the lane, where I was to meet the Captain, it was a little before dusk. I was just about clear of the wood, when the Colonel's big black mare, ridden by the Captain, came bouncing over a scrub pine and lit right in front of me. The d——l himself couldn't have made me feel a colder shudder.
"'What's the matter? Where's your horse?'
"'I thought we had better walk,' said I, recovered from the fright; 'it's only a short distance.'
"'That ain't the thing. There must be some style about this matter.'
"I had noticed that the Captain had on the Colonel's fancy Regulation overcoat, a gilt edged fatigue cap, his over-long jingling Mexican spurs, and the Major's sabre dangling from his side. I came back, got the Adjutant's horse, and rejoined him.
"'Now, I want you to understand,' said the Captain, putting on his prettiest, as we jogged along the lane, 'that I'm General Burnside. How does that strike you?'
"'That you don't look a d—n bit like Burney. He is no fancy man. Your style is nearer the Prince's,—Fitz John. All you want are the yellow kids,' rejoined I.
"'Too near home, that. How will Gen. Franklin do?'