in Texas yet, before they get to
Fat Jenny. First, they helped themselves out of their own commissary
departments, horses, provisions trains, cannon, everything. Decently
uniformed for the first time, and the War over! You should of seen 'em,
a forest of Sharpe's carbines, a regular circulating library of Beecher
Bibles. There were four Colts and a dragoon sabre and thousands of
rounds of ammunition to each man. They had fighting tools to spare, and
they cached a lot of the stuff up in the state of Coahuila. And they
fed, and got sleek. This ain't editorial, my boy. It's God's own truth.
Adventures every step of the way only did 'em good. They saved whole
towns from renegade looters by just mentioning Shelby's name. They
fought all day and danced all night. San Antone was the best. There they
gathered in generals, governors, senators, and even Kirby Smith, all
yearning to join Old Joe--our Old Joe, who ain't thirty-four yet."

The speaker paused, and when he began again, there was a light ominous
of inspiration in his eyes.

"At the Rio Grande," he said, solemnly, "they crossed out of the
Confederacy forever, so it was meet and right that there, in midstream,
they should consign their old battle-flag to the past. They had not
surrendered it, but as a standard it existed for those gallant hearts no
more. Woman's loyal hand had bestowed it. Coy victory had caressed its
folds mid the powder pall and horror of ten score desperate fields. And
now it floated over the last of its followers, ere the waves should
close over it forevermore. With bowed heads, they gathered sadly
about----"

"Lay it down, Shanks, lay it down," Driscoll pleaded. He was referring
again to the pen in hand.

"All right, Din," Boone answered hastily. "Yes, I know, we all got kind
of weepy too. No wonder Colonel Slayback wrote some verses. Reckon you
can stand just one? This one?

'And that group of Missouri's valiant throng,
Who had fought for the weak against the strong--
Who had charged and bled
Where Shelby led,
Were the last who held above the wave
The glorious flag of the vanquished brave,
No more to rise from its watery grave!'

"And," he added savagely, "just let any parlor critic smile at the
sacred feet of those same lines!"

"Let him once!" said Driscoll. His eyes were moist.

Mr. Boone faithfully traversed the rest of the way with the "Iron
Brigade," and no company of errant knights, perhaps, ever had such a
jun