It was their last call for enlistment, and as they passed I stepped in behind the big drum, throwing my silver dollar into its head.
So I enlisted for the war.
The old drummer smiled and nodded, the crowd cheered—I looked up—Old Hawthorne had ridden back and sat his horse smiling down on me. "God bless you, Jack, Jack!" he cried. "Do you know that I rode back to see you do it? I knew you would do it—'tis the call of the drum—the blood of the men of your tribe who could both pray and fight! Come, you shall be on my staff. Captain Jack Ballington from the home of Old Hickory."
I smiled. "General, you are good to me, too good. But let me prove my own worth, if there is any in me. No soldier was ever made except by merit. Give me a chance to make myself. I am going to the war and I am going with you. But under two conditions: that this horse I am riding goes with us, is yours. This is Eloise's," I added softly, "and I loved her. 'Tis the only horse in Tennessee fit to carry our General. She gave him to me. I give him to you."
He was silent; he understood.
"And the other is that you give me a rifle in the ranks." ...
After I had enlisted I wanted to see the homestead again, the hickories that Eloise and I had loved, and to bid my old grandsire farewell.
He was sitting under his favorite elm tree smoking when I rode up. I did not see who was with him until I had dismounted and stood before him, hat off, holding my horse's reins.
Then I saw that it was Braxton Bragg who was talking excitedly and loudly; and I knew that he had been drinking. He did not speak to me nor see me. The old man did not know me in the gathering darkness.
"I am Jack, Grandfather, Jack Ballington. And I have come to bid you good-by."