D'Ri and I

  V

  I followed the camp and took my place in the ranks at Ogdensburg.We went immediately into barracks--a structure long and low andweather-stained, overlooking the St. Lawrence. There was a finelevel field in front of it, and a flag waving at the top of a highstaff. The men cheered lustily that afternoon as they passed it,where stood General Jacob Brown, his cocked hat in his hand--asplendid figure of a man, My delight in the life of a soldier beganthat hour, and has never left me.

  There was a lot of horse-play that night, in which some of thegreen boys were roughly handled. They told me, I remember, thatall new recruits had to fight a duel; but when they gave me thechoice of weapons I was well content. I had the sure eye of myfather, and the last time I had fenced with him, there at home, hesaid my arm was stronger and quicker than his had ever been.Indeed, I was no sooner tall enough to swing a sword than he beganteaching me how to use it. In the wood back of the barracks thatnight, they learned I was not a man to be fooled with. The tallsergeant who stood before me saw his sword go flying in the gloomthe second thrust he made at me, and ran for his life, amid roarsof laughter. I had no lack of friends after that day.

  It was a year of surprises in the Northern army, and D'ri was thegreatest of all. That long, wiry, sober-faced Yankee conquered thesmartness of the new camp in one decisive and immortal victory. Atfirst they were disposed to poke fun at him.

  "Looks a little tired," said the sergeant of the guard.

  "Needs rest--that's what's matter o' him," said the captain.

  "Orter be turned out t' grass a leetle while," the adjutantsuggested.

  The compliments he failed to hear soon came to him indirectly, andhe had much to put up with. He kept his temper and smokedthoughtfully, and took it ail in good part. The night after hecame they put him on guard duty--a greenhorn, with no knowledge ofany orders but gee and haw. They told him he should allow nobodyto pass him while on duty, but omitted to mention the countersign.They instructed him in the serious nature of his task, adding thathis failure to comply with orders would incur the penalty of death.D'ri looked very sober as he listened. No man ever felt a keenersense of responsibility. They intended, I think, to cross thelines and take his gun away and have fun with him, but thecountersign would have interfered with their plans.

  D'ri went to his post a little after sundown. The guard wasposted. The sergeant, with his party of six, started back to theguard-house, but they never got there. They went as far as D'ri.He stood with his gun raised.

  "Come another step," said he, "an' I'll let the moonlight throughye."

  They knew he meant it, and they stood still.

  "Come for'ard--one et a time," said D'ri, "Drop yer guns 'n' setdown. Ye look tired."

  They did as he commanded, for they could see he meant business, andthey knew he had the right to kill.

  Another man came along shortly.

  "Halt! Who comes there?" D'ri demanded,

  "Friend with the countersign," he replied.

  "Can't fool me," said D'ri. "Come up here 'n' set down 'n' mekyerself t' hum. Drop yer gun fust. Drop it, er I 'll drop you."

  He dropped his gun promptly and accepted the invitation to sitdown. This last man had some arguments to offer, but D'ri stoodsternly and made no reply.

  At eleven o'clock Captain Hawkins sent out inquiries for thesergeant of the guard and his relief. He could find nobody who hadseen them since dark. A corporal was also missing. The captainsent a man to look for them. He got as far as D'ri and sat down.They waited for him in vain. The captain stood looking into thedarkness and wondering about his men. He conferred with AdjutantChurch. Then he set out with two men to go the rounds. They gotas far as D'ri.

  "Halt! Who comes there?" he demanded.

  "Grand rounds," was the answer of the captain.

  "Lay down yer arms," said D'ri, "an" come up here 'n' set down."

  "Haven't time," said the captain, failing at first to grasp thesituation.

  "You tek time, er I 'll put a hole 'n yer jacket," said D'ri.

  One of the privates turned quickly and ran. D'ri sent a shot afterhim, that only grazed a leg, and he kept on. Then D'ri gave allattention to his new prisoners. They could see no amusement indodging bullets; they threw their arms on the side-hill and satdown with the others.

  The captain swore as he submitted,

  "Don't rile yerself," said D'ri; "you need rest."

  "No, I don't, nuther," said the captain.

  "Ye'll hev t' hev it, anyway," said D'ri.

  "This beats h--!" the captain answered, with a laugh.

  A feeling of alarm began to spread. The adjutant was standing in agroup of men at headquarters soon after midnight. They were earsunder in the mystery. The escaped soldier came running toward themout of the dark. He was breathing heavily; his leg was bleedingand sore.

  "Wall, what is it?" the adjutant demanded.

  "D'ri!" the man gasped, and dropped down exhausted.

  "D'ri?" the officer inquired.

  "D'ri!" the man repeated. "It's thet air man they call D'ri. He'sroped in everybody thet come his way. They 're all settin' on thehill up there beside him. Won't let a man move when he gits him."

  The adjutant snickered as he spat an oath. He was made of iron,that man Church.

  "Post a guard around him," said he, turning to an officer. "Thedem fool 'd tek the hull garrison ef we did n't. I 'll go 'n' tryt' pull him off his perch."

  "He 'll lay ye up," said the returned private, baring his bloodyleg. "Eff ye try t' fool with him ye'll limp. See what he done t'me."

  The adjutant swore again.

  "Go t' the hospital," he commanded.

  Then he strode away, but he did not return that night.

  The moon was shining as the adjutant came, in sight and hailed thegroup of prisoners.

  "What ye settin' there fer?" he shouted.

  "You 'll know 'n a minute," said one of them.

  "Halt! Who comes there?" D'ri demanded.

  "Friend with--"

  "Don't ye purten' t' be my friend," D'ri answered. "'T won't work.Come up here 'n' set down."

  "Stop foolin', man," said the adjutant.

  "I ain't a-foolin'."

  "He ain't a-foolin'; he means business," said one of the prisoners.

  "Don't ye tamper with me. I 'll teach you--" the adjutantthreatened.

  "Ain't a-goin' t' tamper with ye a minute," said D'ri. "If yedon't set down here quick, I 'll put a hole in ye."

  "Lunatic! wha' d' ye mean?"

  "I mean t' turn ye out t' grass a leetle while," D'ri answeredsoberly. "Ye look tired."

  The officer made at him, but in a flash D'ri had knocked him downwith his musket. The adjutant rose and, with an oath, joined theothers.

  "Dunno but he 'll tek the hull garrison 'fore sunrise," hemuttered. "Let 'em come--might es well hev comp'ny."

  A little before daylight a man sick in the hospital explained thesituation. He had given D'ri his orders. They brought him out ona stretcher. The orders were rescinded, the prisoners released.

  Captain Hawkins, hot to his toes with anger, took D'ri toheadquarters. General Brown laughed heartily when he heard thefacts, and told D'ri he was made of the right stuff.

  "These greenhorns are not nice to play with," he said. "They'relike some guns--loaded when you don't expect it. We 've had enoughskylarking."

  And when the sick man came out of hospital he went to theguard-house.

  After we had shown our mettle the general always had a good wordfor D'ri and me, and he put us to the front in every difficultenterprise.