"Yes," said Capt. Drummond, laughing. "If it is something he can do, he does it; if it is something he can't do, he loses his head trying."
"Loses his head, sir?"
"Yes—by a cannon ball; or his heart, by a musket ball; or maybe he gets off with losing a hand or a leg; just as it happens. That makes no difference, either." He watched Daisy as he spoke, seeing a slight colour rise in her cheeks, and wondering what made the-child's quiet grey eyes look at him so thoughtfully.
[Illustration: A SOLDIER.]
"Capt. Drummond, is he ever told to do anything he can't do?"
"A few years ago, Daisy, the English and the French were fighting the Russians in the Crimea. I happened to be there on business, and I saw some things. An order was brought one day to an officer commanding a body of cavalry—you know what cavalry is?"
"Yes, I know."
"The order was brought in—Hallo! what's that?"
For a voice was heard shouting at a little distance, "Drummond!—Ho,
Drummond! Where are you?"
"It's Mr. McFarlane!" said Daisy. "He'll come here. I'm very sorry."