The Drummer Boy

by J. T. Trowbridge

Something else he learned, not so much to his credit. Before saying what that was, I wish to remind the reader of the peculiar circumstances in which he was placed—the tedious hours; the hardships, which he was glad to forget at any cost; the example of companions, all older, and many so much older than himself; and, not least by any means, his own ardent and susceptible nature.

One day he joined his comrades in a game of bluff. Now, bluff is a game there is no fun in unless some stake is played for. The boys had been ashore, and gathered some pebbles and shells from the beach, and these were used for the purpose. Frank had great success. He won more shells than any body. In the excitement, he forgot his thirst, and all the accompanying troubles. He forgot, too, that this was a kind of gambling. And he was so elated, that when somebody proposed to play for pennies, he did not think that it would be much worse to do that than to play for shells and pebbles.

Unfortunately, he was still successful. He won twenty cents in about an hour. He did not intend to keep them, for he did not think that would be right. "I'll play," said he, "and let the boys win them back again." But, at the next sitting, he won still more pennies; so that he thought he could well afford to play a bolder game. His success was all the more gratifying when he considered that he was the youngest of the party, and that by skill and good fortune he was beating his elders.

One day, after he had won more than a dollar,—which seems a good deal of money to a boy in his condition,—he began to lose. This was not so amusing. He had made up his mind that when his winnings were gone, he would stop playing; and the idea of stopping was not pleasant to contemplate. How could he give up a sport which surpassed everything else in the way of excitement? However, he determined to keep his resolution. And it was soon brought to a test.

The luck had turned, and Frank found himself where he began. If he played any more, he must risk his own money. He didn't mind losing a few pennies,—that was nothing serious; but the boys were not playing for simple pennies now.

"I believe I've played enough, boys," said he, passing his hand across his heated brow, and casting his eyes around at objects which looked strange to them after their long and intense application to the cards.

"O, of course!" sneered Jack Winch, who was watching the game, "Frank'll stop as soon as he is beginning to lose a little."

Jack was not playing, for a very good reason. He had spent nearly all his money, and lost the rest. He had lost some of it to Frank, and was consequently very desirous of seeing the latter brought to the same condition as himself.

The sneering remark stung Frank. He would gladly have pleaded Jack's excuse for not playing any more; but he had still in his pocket over two dollars of the money he had reserved for himself when the troops were paid off. And it did seem rather mean in him, now he thought of it, to throw up the game the moment others were serving him as he had been only too willing to serve them.

"I'm not afraid of losing my money," said he, blushing; "but I've had enough play for one day."