t all the words of the "Charge" beat in Arthur
Thorndyke's brain till it seemed to him that if David died he should
never hear anything else. For they were constantly on the boy's lips.

Finally, on the morning of Saturday, Arthur said to David: "Major, this
is the day for you to say the last lines. You know this afternoon the
'Six Hundred' are going by. You'll hear the band play, and Uncle Chester
and Uncle Stephen will be marching in the ranks. Stuart and I will be
there, too, somewhere, and I think if we can just prop you up a little
bit you'll be able to see at least the heads of the men. And you can
salute, you know, even if they can't see you."

"After the procession are you going to speak to them?" asked David.

Arthur smiled. "After some sort of fashion I'm going to open my mouth,"
he said. "I hardly know myself what will come out. All I do know is, I
never had quite so much respect for the courage that faces the cannon's
mouth as now. And it's you, Major, who are the pluckiest soldier I
know."

He smiled down at the white little face, its great gray eyes staring up
at him.

"Uncle Arthur--but--but--I wasn't plucky--all the time. Sometimes--it
hurt so I--had to cry."

The words were a whisper, but Uncle Arthur still smiled. "That doesn't
count, Major," he said. "Now I must go. Watch for the band."

Away in the distance, by and by, came the music. As it approached,
mingled with it David could hear the sound of marching feet. His mother
and the Red Cross nurse propped his head up a very little, so that he
could see into the street. Louder and louder grew the strains, then
stopped; the drums beat.

"Oh, they're not going to play as they go by!" cried David,
disappointed.

The tramp of the marching feet came nearer. Suddenly the band burst
with a crash into the "Star-Spangled Banner." David's eyes shone with
delight.

"They're halting in front of us, David," said the nurse. So they were;
David could see them.

The music reached the end of the tune and stopped. A shout broke upon
the air; it was a cheer. It took words, and swelled into David's room;
but it was a gentle cheer, not a vociferous one. It was given by
Lieutenant Roger Thorndyke's old company. And the words of it were
wonderful:

_"'Rah, 'rah, 'rah--comrade!"_

David lay back on his pillow, his face shining with happiness. He would
never forget that those soldiers of his father's regiment, the ----th
New York, had called him comrade. He t