CHAPTER V.—and last.
"HOME, SWEET HOME."
And now, at last, had come that "day of disaster," when Camp McClellan must be deserted. The very sun didn't shine so brilliantly as usual, thought the Zouaves; and it was positively certain that the past five days, although they had occurred in the middle of summer, were the very shortest ever known! Eleven o'clock was the hour appointed for the breaking up of the camp, in order that they might return to the city by the early afternoon boat.
"Is it possible we have been here a week?" exclaimed Jimmy, as he sat down to breakfast. "It seems as if we had only come yesterday."
"What a jolly time it has been!" chimed in Charley Spicer. "I don't want to go to Newport a bit. Where are you going, Tom?"
"To Baltimore—but I don't mean to Secesh!" added Tom, with a little blush. "I have a cousin in the Palmetto Guards at Charleston, and that's one too many rebels in the family."
"Never mind!" cried George Chadwick; "the Pringles are a first rate family; the rest of you are loyal enough, I'm sure!" and George gave Tom such a slap on the back, in token of his good will, that it quite brought the tears into his eyes.
When breakfast was over, the Zouaves repaired to their tents, and proceeded to pack their clothes away out of the lockers. They were not very scientific packers, and, in fact, the usual mode of doing the business was to ram everything higgledy-piggledy into their valises, and then jump on them until they consented to come together and be locked. Presently Jerry came trotting down with a donkey cart used on the farm, and under his directions the boys folded their blankets neatly up, and placed them in the vehicle, which then drove off with its load, leaving them to get out and pile together the other furnishings of the tents; for, of course, as soldiers, they were expected to wind up their own affairs, and we all know that boys will do considerable hard work when it comes in the form of play. Just as the cart, with its vicious little wrong-headed steed, had tugged, and jerked, and worried itself out of sight, a light basket carriage, drawn by two dashing black Canadian ponies, drew up opposite the camp, and the reins were let fall by a young lady in a saucy "pork pie" straw hat, who was driving—no other than Miss Carlton, with Jessie beside her. The boys eagerly surrounded the little carriage, and Miss Carlton said, laughing, "Jessie begged so hard for a last look at the camp, that I had to bring her. So you are really going away?"
"Really," repeated Freddy; "but I am so glad you came, Miss Jessie, just in time to see us off."