"These are our tents," said Jack. "They all have their names, you see."
Which fact Frank had already noticed with no little astonishment.
The names were lettered on the canvas of the tents in characters far more grotesque than elegant One was called the "Crystal Palace;" another, the "Mammoth Cave;" a third bore the mystical title of "Owl House;" while a fourth displayed the sign of the "Arab's Home;" etc.
"My traps are in the 'Young Volunteer,'" said Jack. "We give it that name, because we are all of us young fellows in there. You can tie up here too,"—entering the tent,—"if you want to."
Frank gladly accepted the proposition. "How odd it must seem," he said, "to live and sleep under canvas!"
"You'll like it tip-top, when you get used to it," remarked Jack, with an air of old experience.
Frank made haste to take off his civil suit and put on his soldier clothes. Jack pronounced the uniform a splendid fit, and declared that his friend looked "stunning."
"But you must have your hair cut, Frank. Look here; this is the fighting trim!" and Jack Winch, pulling off his cap, made Frank laugh till the tears came into his eyes, at the ludicrous sight. Jack's hair had been clipped so close to his head that it was no longer than mouse's hair, giving him a peculiarly grim and antique appearance.
"You look like Sinbad's Old Man of the Sea!" exclaimed Frank. "I won't have my hair cut that way!"—feeling of his own soft brown curls, which his mother was so fond of, and which he meant to preserve, if only for her sake.
"Pshaw! you look like a girl! Come, Frank, there's a fellow in the 'Owl House' that cuts all the hair for our company."