do me more good to have you receive it," protested Tom.

"Well, here, I can't have this battle fought in the hospital," interposed
the surgeon. "They are good friends, captain, and whichever one you give
it to, the other will be suited. You had better settle the case at
head-quarters."

"If you please, Captain Benson, I would like to have Hapgood stay with me
to-night, if he can be spared."

The veteran was promptly detailed for hospital duty, and the captain
returned to his quarters to decide the momentous question in regard to the
sergeant's warrant.

CHAPTER XXVI.

TOM IS SENTIMENTAL.

The little schooner which the picket guard had captured was loaded with
valuable supplies for the rebels, which of course were confiscated without
ceremony. The mail bag which was on board contained a great many letters
from traitors in Baltimore, some of whom were exposed by the capture of
their treasonable correspondence.

Tom's wound proved to be more serious than even the surgeon had
anticipated; but the best care which it was possible to give in a military
hospital was bestowed upon him. Old Hapgood, in recognition of his
services on that eventful night, was permitted to be near the patient as
much as the interests of the service would permit; and the old man was
happy when seated by the rude couch of the soldier boy, ministering to his
necessities, or cheering him with bright hopes of the future. A strong
friendship had grown up between them, for Tom's kind heart and brave
conduct produced a deep impression upon the old man.

"Here, Tom," said Captain Benson, as he approached the sufferer, a few
days after he entered the hospital, and laid a paper upon the bed. "Here's
a prescription which the colonel says you must take."

"What is it?" asked Tom, with a faint smile.

"A sergeant's warrant."

"Glory, glory, hallelujah, as we go marching on!" exclaimed old Hapgood,
jumping up like a youth of sixteen, and swinging his cap above his head.

"Shut up, there!" shouted the hospital steward. "Don't you know any better
than to make such a racket in this place?"

"I beg pardon, Jameson. I forgot where I was," apologized the veteran.
"The news was so good I couldn't help it. Our Tom is a sergeant now!"

"Not yet, Hapgood," replied Tom, feebly. "I can't accept it, Captain
Benson; it belongs to Hapgood, sir, and I shall feel a great deal better
if you put his name in place of mine."

"Don't do it, cap'n!" interposed