"Come ahead, then," said the colonel, laughing at the ease with which his companion set aside the verdict of the coin. "That's not such a bad system of yours: snapping to see what you'll do, and then doing what you please. Always work it that way?"
"No, not always," returned the paymaster, lengthening his stride in order to keep up with the pace set by the colonel, "only sometimes; and this is one of the times. Suppose we shall find anybody up there?"
"The genial Pollard is sure to be there. He's a fixture. Can't see why he pays dues at his club, can you? Since we started this institution he's never spent an evening anywhere else. Well, here we are—all except the stairs," said the colonel, turning in at the court at whose far end, away up in the darkness, the lights of The Battery invitingly twinkled. "Hello!" he exclaimed, a moment later, as he opened the door at the head of the last flight of stairs, "here's Pollard, sure enough—and 'Bones,' and a couple more men," and with this he walked over towards the table around which the earlier comers were seated.
"Colonel Elliott, let me present Lieutenant Hotchkiss and Ensign Hatch, both of the Naval Battalion," said the surgeon, rising and designating these officers with a graceful wave of his cigar. "Gentlemen, this is Langforth, our 'Pay.' Ah, you've met him?" The two late comers drew up chairs, and made known to Sam their requirements; and then the colonel, turning towards the surgeon, said, "Bones, what is it? You look troubled."
"Well, to tell the truth," replied the surgeon, ruefully glancing at his questioner, "I was going to tell these fellows how I won the cavalry cup, but now I suppose I shall have to defer it to another time."
"Oh, go ahead with your yarn—spring it," said the colonel. "'Pay' and I don't mind, and Pollard the genial never will interrupt. Besides, with three of us here, you'll not be apt to deviate very widely from the truth, and truth is desirable in all reports of a military Nature. Go ahead!" and the colonel, with a wink at Langforth, took the mug which Sam had brought him.
"Well, you see, it was like this," began the surgeon, clasping his hands behind his head, and comfortably leaning back in his chair. "In camp, last summer, we had the athletic fever pretty badly, and the way all hands went in for games of various sorts was a caution."
"'Games of various sorts,'" echoed Pollard, winking at the paymaster, and making motions as if dealing a pack of invisible cards. "That's not bad, Bones."
"Out-door games of various sorts," amended the surgeon. "Cork up, will you, and don't let these sailors carry away wrong impressions of us."
"All right, old man," replied Pollard, catching Sam's eye, and holding up one finger to denote drought; "only don't be so ambiguous in your remarks. But really, we did have lots of athletic enthusiasm, last camp, and it was very tiring to see the boys all sweating after some record or other—when they were off duty—instead of lying 'round in their tents and keeping cool."