“From the general,” said the soldier, touching his cap, and handing me a sealed note.
The orderly, without waiting a reply, leaped into his saddle and rode off.
I broke the seal with delight:
“Sir,—You will report, with fifty men, to Major Blossom, at 4 a.m. to-morrow.
“By order,—”
(Signed) “A.A.A.-G.
“Captain Haller, commanding Co. Rifle Rangers.”
“Old Bios, eh? Quartermaster scouting, I hope,” said Clayley, looking over the contents of the note.
“Anything but the trenches; I am sick of them.”
“Had it been anybody else but Blossom—fighting Daniels, for instance—we might have reckoned on a comfortable bit of duty; but the old whale can hardly climb into his saddle—it does look bad.”