‘Oh, I say, major,’ whined Ephraim, ‘our regiment’s three miles back of Lewiston.’
‘Is it?’ answered the major. ‘I know. Well, I’ll start you three miles in front of Lewiston, and show you a little fighting for a change.’
‘General Shields told us the “Terrors” warn’t ter be in action ter-day,’ protested Ephraim, still hanging back.
‘Rubbish! None of your cock-and-bull stories for me. Fall in!’
‘But my comrade’s wounded,’ declared Ephraim desperately. ‘How kin he fight?’
The major was a good-humoured man, but he began to lose patience. ‘What do you mean, sir, by arguing with me?’ he cried, striking Ephraim with the flat of his sword. ‘Do you suppose I don’t know a couple of confounded skulkers when I see them? There’s nothing wrong with your comrade’s legs, I should say. I’m not going to stand here all day. Fall in!’
‘But we han’t got no guns,’ whimpered Ephraim as a last resource.
‘Fall in!’ roared the major.—‘Sergeant Pierce, draft these two cowardly skulkers into the middle of the column, so that they can’t run away; and keep your eye on them during the action. If they try to bolt, cut them down.—Column, forward!’
The sergeant thrust Ephraim and Lucius into the ranks, and the column moved forward at the double to atone for the short delay.
To exchange ideas on this unpleasant development was impossible; but Ephraim glanced at Lucius as they trotted along, as much as to say: ‘We are in for it this time, and, for the life of me, I don’t see how we are going to get out of it.’ The column was marching two deep, and the sergeant kept abreast the file formed by the two boys. Presently, as the men fell by order into the quick step once more, Ephraim addressed the grizzled warrior in plaintive accents.