Before long we had marched briskly across the parade-ground and lined up in front of the captain's door, with Tom in the post of honor on the right. The captain opened the door and stepped out, when we all three saluted, and as he returned it he asked:
"Well, men, what's wanting?"
Standing rigidly at attention, Jack and I kept silence while Tom spoke, saying:
"We've called, sir, to see if the captain would be so kind as to give us our discharges so we can take advantage of the chance to go into the States with the bull train that's camped in the bottom yonder."
"Why, yes; certainly," said the captain slowly; "but I had hoped that you men would re-enlist in time to get the benefit of the three months' extra pay with furlough. You are pretty sure to re-enlist sooner or later, and it would be better for you to take on in your old company. It looks as if the war would continue for some time yet, and, as we will probably all be ordered into the States soon, there will be good opportunities for well-trained soldiers to get commissions in the volunteers."
"We're very grateful to the captain for his good opinion, but we've concluded to go down into the buffalo range and put in the winter skinning wolves," said Tom. "Next summer, if we take a notion to re-enlist, we'll hunt the old company up."
"All right, men," said the captain, apparently not wishing to seem unduly anxious about the matter; "you may go to the first sergeant and tell him I order your discharges and final statements made out."
Thanking him, we saluted and marched off. The documents were made out in due course and handed to us by the sergeant, with compliments on the good service we had all performed and the expression of a hope that when we had "blowed in our money" we would go back to the old company. For some hours we were busy packing up, happy in the feeling that we were once more citizens. We spent some time shaking hands and bidding good-by to every one, and in some cases the partings were rather moving.