gued by wagers, even with himself. "Bet you two to
one I don't. Bet you three to one--ten to one."

Then he saw, an indefinite distance beyond him, burning like red-hot
iron through the darkness, a little scarlet or crimson gleam, as of a
lighted cigar.

"That's Old Grumps, of the Bloody Fourteenth," he thought. "I've
raided into his happy sleeping-grounds. I'll draw on him."

But Old Grumps, otherwise Colonel Lafayette Gildersleeve, had no
rations--that is, no whisky.

"How do you suppose an officer is to have a drink, Lieutenant?" he
grumbled.

"Don't you know that our would-be Brigadier sent all the commissary to
the rear day before yesterday? A canteenful can't last two days. Mine
went empty about five minutes ago."

"Oh, thunder!" groaned Wallis, saddened by that saddest of all
thoughts, "Too late!" "Well, least said soonest mended. I must wobble
back to my Major."

"He'll send you off to some other camp as dry as this one. Wait ten
minutes, and he'll be asleep. Lie down on my blanket and light your
pipe. I want to talk to you about official business--about our
would-be Brigadier."

"Oh, _your_ turn will come some day," mumbled Wallis, remembering
Gildersleeve's jealousy of the brigade commander--a jealousy which
only gave tongue when aroused by "commissary." "If you do as well as
usual to-morrow you can have your own brigade."

"I suppose you think we are all going to do well to-morrow," scoffed
old Grumps, whose utterance by this time stumbled. "I suppose you
expect to whip and to have a good time. I suppose you brag on fighting
and enjoy it."

"I like it well enough when it goes right; and it generally does go
right with this brigade. I should like it better if the rebs would
fire higher and break quicker."

"That depends on the way those are commanded whose business it is to
break them," growled Old Grumps. "I don't say but what we are rightly
commanded," he added, remembering his duty to superiors. "I concede
and acknowledge that our would-be Brigadier knows his military
business. But the blessing of God, Wallis! I believe in Waldron as a
soldier. But as a man and a Christian, faugh!"

Gildersleeve had clearly emptied his canteen unassisted; he never
talked about Christianity when perfectly sober.

"What was your last remark?" inquired Wallis, taking his pipe from his
mouth to grin. Even a superior officer might be chaffed a little in
the darkness.

"I made no last remark," asserted the Col