treets with the band playing, amid the faces and the shouts. And
the men who had stood by the company so stanchly would be pointing him
out and telling each other his mythical exploits--and adding the record
of his Indian exploits--which Spruce felt that an inattentive country
had not appreciated. A dozen times a day he pictured the scene, he
mentally listened to the talk--he, walking with a rigid and unseeing
military mien. He approximated the number of glasses a man could take
without even grazing indecorum--for he was determined he would not be
riotous in his joy--and he used to whistle the refrain of a convivial
song:

Enj'y yourselves, enj'y yourselves
But don't do no disgrace!

Meanwhile, his consciousness of in some way caring for the whole company
held him a model of sobriety. In fact, he did take care of the company,
secretly instructing the captain in the delicacies of military etiquette
and primitive sanitary conditions, and openly showing the commissary
sergeant how to make requisitions and barter his superfluous rations for
acceptable canned goods at the groceries of the town. He explained all
the regulars' artless devices for being comfortable; he mended the boys'
morals and their blouses in the same breath; and he inculcated all the
regular traditions and superstitions. But it is to be confessed again,
that while Spruce was living laboriously up to his lights of
righteousness under this new stimulus, the lights were rather dim; and,
in particular, as regards the duty of a man to pick up outlying portable
property for his company--they would have shocked a police magistrate.
Neither did he rank among the martial virtues the ornament of a meek and
quiet spirit. "A good captain is always a kicker," says Spruce firmly;
"he's got to be. Look at this here camp, Captain; the mess tent's all
under water; we're standing in the slush every damned meal we eat.
Water's under our tent, water--"

"I know, I know, Sergeant," interrupts the perplexed and worried young
captain, a clever young dandy bright enough to be willing to take wisdom
without shoulder straps; "I've been to the colonel; he agrees with me,
and he's been to Major Green, and that's all comes of it. I don't see
what I can do further, if I did--"

"Begging your pardon, Captain, the men will be falling sick soon and
dying. They're weakened by the climate and being fretted, expecting
always to git off and never going."

"But what can I do? Oh,