“Neither, my gay and festive lark,” said the captain with abundant good humor, as he took Somers’s arm, and sauntered leisurely towards the door. “Now, my dear fellow, we will go and hear what Lieutenant-Colonel Staggerback has to say about the battle of Bull Run. I was in that action, and rallied the Fire Zouaves when Colonel Ellsworth was killed.”
“Colonel Ellsworth! He wasn’t killed at Bull Run!” exclaimed Somers, astonished beyond measure at the singular character which his companion was developing.
“You are right; he was killed at Ball’s Bluff.”
“I think not; but were you at Bull Run?”
“Certainly I was. I was on General Frémont’s staff.”
“Were you, indeed? Whew!”
“What may be the precise meaning of that whistle? Do you think I was not there?”
“Well, I don’t remember to have seen you there?”
“Very likely you did not; but you will call to mind the fact, that things were rather mixed up in that action. But never mind that: we will talk those things over when we get down upon the Peninsula, and have nothing else to think about. Do you really mean to say, my dear fellow, that you never drink at all?”
“I do not.”