It was late when he reached the hotel.
Looking through the window, he saw old Dick Ballard, who was alone in the barroom entertaining himself with an evening drill.
He carried a long, iron poker at “carry arms,” and was marching back and forth with military tread. Arriving at the end of the room, he would call out “Halt! About face! March!”
Vance was very much amused at old Dick Ballard’s pantomime drill, but finally opened the door and walked in. The transformation scene was wonderful. Old Dick Ballard was vigorously poking in the stove, notwithstanding it was a July night.
“Hello, Mr. Gilder,” said he, looking up, “I saw a mighty big rat run in this stove a minute ago, and I am after it.”
“Better charge your entire militia company on the enemy,” said Vance, laughing.
“Oh, you saw me, did you,” said Ballard. “I was jes’ drillin’ up a little for dress parade. Well, pardner, I’ll set ‘em up, and you say nothin’ about it.”
Vance declined to be entertained, but Ballard drank copiously from his ever ready bottle.
“I tell you, Waterville’s got it and no mistake,” said he, putting his bottle carefully away.
“Got what,” asked Vance, as he turned to go to his room.