Again Mr. Albumblatt counted heads. “I imagine you include the ladies, Captain? Ha! ha!”
“Seven commissioned males, sir. Our Major is on sick-leave, and two of our Lieutenants are related to the President's wife. She can't bear them to be exposed. None of us in the church-yard lie—but we are seven.”
“Ha! ha, Captain! That's an elegant double entendre on Wordsworth's poem and the War Department. Only, if I may correct your addition—ha! ha!—our total, including myself, is eight.” And Augustus grew as hilarious as a wooden nutmeg.
The commanding officer rolled an intimate eye at his wife.
The lady was sitting big with rage, but her words were cordial still: “Indeed, Mr. Albumblatt, the way officers who have influence in Washington shirk duty here and get details East is something I can't laugh about. At one time the Captain was his own adjutant and quartermaster. There are more officers at this table to-night than I've seen in three years. So we are doubly glad to welcome you at Fort Brown.”
“I am fortunate to be on duty where my services are so required, though I could object to calling it Fort Brown.” And Augustus exhaled a new smile.
“Prefer Smith?” said Captain Starr.
“You misunderstand me. When we say Fort Brown. Fort Russell, Fort Et Cetera, we are inexact. They are not fortified.”
“Cantonment Et Cetera would be a trifle lengthy, wouldn't it?” put in the Doctor, his endurance on the wane.
“Perhaps; but technically descriptive of our Western posts. The Germans criticise these military laxities.”