The captain looked his way and wrote something in a note book.
A few days later the company was reorganized and he was made a junior drill sergeant, the superior of the corporal who had drilled him.
The corporal considered the story too good to keep. It reached the ears of the captain and he told it to the Colonel, threatening to send Blair to the guard house. But the Colonel said: “No, send him to me.”
Blair presented himself; and after a most deferential salutation, stood at attention. The Colonel leisurely looked him over. While Blair guessed the cause of the summons, he never shifted his eyes from a spot about an inch above the Colonel’s head. He stood as a marble statue, and without the least change of expression; though he heard the Colonel laugh and a moment later snappily say:
“Sergeant Blair, where are you from?”
“Red Bird, Clay County, Kentucky.”
“So you are an accomplished drill sergeant?”
“Have me shot as a liar, if my legs are not veterans.”
“Are you a good marksman?”
“The best in America.”