Good-tempered Freddy, always ready to "make up," caught a hand of each of his comrades, and breakfast went on amicably.
Now, there lived in the house an old English man servant named Jerry Pike. He had formerly been a groom and attendant on Peter's uncle, Major Schermerhorn, and volunteered in the army at the time of the war with Mexico, that he might follow his dear master, whom he had served and loved ever since the Major was a mere boy. He had fought bravely beside him in many a hard battle, and, for his gallant conduct, been promoted to the rank of sergeant. When the hand of death removed that kind master, Mr. Schermerhorn had gladly taken Jerry to his own house, and promised him that should be his home as long as he lived. So now, like a gallant old war horse, who has a fresh green paddock, and lives in clover in his infirm age, Jerry not only stood at ease, but lived at ease; and worked or not as he felt disposed.
When breakfast was over, Peter suddenly cried out, "I say, fellows, suppose we employ ourselves by having a drill! You know old Jerry that I told you about? I'll ask him to give us a lesson!"
"Yes! that will be grand fun!" said Freddy. "Do go and find him, Peter; I should really like to learn how to drill as the soldiers do; so when General McClellan comes along, he'll admire us as much as the English General, old Sir Goutby Slogo, did the Seventh Regiment when they paraded before the Prince. 'Really, most extraordinary style of marching these American troops have,' said he, 'most hequal to the 'Orse Guards and the Hoxford Blues coming down Regent street!'"
Meanwhile, Peter had scampered off to the house, and in a short time returned with a comical-looking little old man, dressed in faded regimentals.
He touched his cap to the boys as he approached, in military style, and then drew himself up so very stiff and straight, awaiting their orders, that, as Freddy whispered to Tom, it was a perfect wonder he didn't snap short off at the waist.
"Now, Jerry," began the Colonel, "we want you to give us a real drill, you know, just as you used to learn."
"Yes, a regular one!" chimed in the rest; "we'll run for our guns."
"Not fur your fust drill, I reckon, genl'men. You'll do bad enough without 'em, hech, hech!" cackled Jerry.
"Very well—come begin then, Jerry!" cried impatient Will.