it born in you?"

Burgess stood silent, considering, then he lifted his ugly face and
looked hard at Berkley.

"I am not ashamed of having served you. I am more comfortable
under orders. . . . I liked to dress you up . . . I wish to God
it was that way now."

"Don't you want your independence?"

"My independence," repeated Burgess, "I had it--more of it when I
was looking out for you, sir, than I have now in this damn
regiment----"

"Well, what did you enlist for?"

"You've asked me that many times, sir, and I don't know. . . . I'd
rather be around, handy like----"

"You'll get killed some day, don't you know it?"

"No, sir. I guess you'll look out for me. You always did."

"How the devil can I prevent one of those big shells from knocking
you off your horse!"

Burgess, patient, undisturbed, let the, question go with a slight
smile.

"What a jackass you are!" said Berkley irritably; "here's a dollar
to get some pie. And if you can cheat that cursed sutler, do it!"

He himself purchased two big pies from the sutler after an angry
haggle in which he was easily worsted; and he munched away
contentedly as he walked toward the lines of the 3rd Zouaves, his
spurs and sabre jingling, Burgess following respectfully at heel.

"Hello, Steve!" he called out to a sun-burnt young zouave who was
drying his freshly washed turban in the hill breeze. "I always
heard you fellows wore infant's underclothes, but I never believed
it before!"

"That's my turban, you idiot!" retorted Stephen, turning red as
several of McDunn's artillerymen began to laugh. But he came over
and shook hands and accepted a big piece of pie without further
resentment. "Hello, Burgess," he added.

"How do you do, sir."

"That damned Dutch sutler of ours," commented Berkley, "puts clay
in his pie-erust. We'll certainly have to fix him before long.
How are you, Steve, anyway?"

"Both socks full of tallow; otherwise I'm feeling fine," said the
boy. "Did you hear those dirty Bucktail veterans back there poking
fun at us? Well, we never answer 'em nowadays; but the Zouaves are
getting fearfully sick of it; and if we don't go into battle pretty
soon there'll be a private war on--" he winked--"with those
Pennsylvanians, you bet. And I guess the Lancers will be in it,
too."

Berkley cast an evil eye on a pair of Pennsylvania soldiers who had
come to see how the Zou-zous made camp; then he shrugged his
shoulders, watching Burgess, wh