The Drummer Boy

by J. T. Trowbridge

"I know where the pen is," said John Winch; "he keeps 'em shut up, so our boys shan't steal 'em, and he and his dog and his nigger watch the pen."

"Well, boys," said Seth, "now the thing is to get the turkeys. As rebel property, it's our duty to confiscate 'em, and use 'em for the support of the Union cause. Now I've an idee. I'll go over in the woods there, and wait, while one of you goes to the house and asks him if he has got any turkeys to sell. He'll say no, of course. Then ask him if you may have the one out in the woods there. He'll say there ain't none in the woods; but you must insist there is one, and say if 'tain't his you'll take it, and settle with the owner when he calls. That'll start him, and I'll see that he goes into the woods fur enough, so that the rest of you can rush up, grab every man his turkey, and skedaddle. Winch 'll show you the way; he says he knows the pen. 'Charge, Ellis, charge! On, Harris, on! Shall be the words of private John.' But who'll go first to the house?" asked Seth, coming down from the high key in which he usually got off his poetry.

"Let Frank," said Harris; "for he knows the man."

"He? He dasn't go!" sneered Jack. "He's afraid of the dog."

This base imputation decided Frank to undertake the errand, which, after all, notwithstanding the danger attending it, was less repugnant to his feelings than more direct participation in the robbery.

Seth departed to ensconce himself in the woods. Frank then went on to the secessionists house, quieting his conscience by the way with reflections like these: It was owing to such men as this disloyal Marylander that the Union troops were now suffering so many hardships. The good things possessed by traitors, or by those who sympathised with traitors, were fairly forfeited to patriots who were giving their blood to their country. Stealing, in such a case, was no robbery. And so forth, and so forth—sentiments which prevailed pretty generally in the army. Besides, there was fun in the adventure; and with boys a little fun covers a multitude of sins.

The fun, however, was considerably dampened, on Frank's part, as he approached the house. "Bow, wow!" suddenly spoke the deep, dreadful tones of the rebel mastiff. He hated the national uniform as intensely as his master did, and came bounding towards Frank as if his intention was to eat him up at once.

Now, the truth is, Frank was afraid of the dog. His heart beat fast, his flesh felt an electric chill, and there was a curious stirring in the roots of his hair. The dog came right on, bristling up as large as two dogs, opening his ferocious maw, and barking and growling terribly. Then the fun of the thing was still more dampened, to the boy's appreciation, by a sudden suspicion. Why had his companions thrust the most perilous part of the enterprise upon him, the youngest of the party? It was mean; it was cowardly; and the whole affair was intended to make sport for the rest, by getting him into a scrape. So, at least, thought Frank.

"But I'll show them I've got some pluck," said something within him, proud and determined.

To fear danger is one thing. To face it boldly, in spite of that fear, is quite another. The first is common; the last is rare as true courage. The dog came straight up to Frank, and Frank marched straight up to the dog.