"
"Oh, Uncle Harry! I think it was an AWFUL good soldier that got
off his horse to take care of that poor little boy."
"Do you, Budge? Who do you think it was?"
"I dunno."
"It was your papa."
"Oh--h--h--h--h!" If Tom could have but seen the expression upon
his boy's face as he prolonged this exclamation, his loss of one
of the grandest chances a cavalry officer ever had would not have
seemed so great to him as it had done for years. He seemed to take
in the story in all its bearings, and his great eyes grew in depth
as they took on the far-away look which seemed too earnest for the
strength of an earthly being to support.
But Toddie,--he who a fond mama thought endowed with art sense,--
Toddie had throughout my recital the air of a man who was musing
on some affair of his own, and Budge's exclamation had hardly died
away, when Toddie commenced to wave aloud an extravaganza wholly
his own.
"When _I_ was a soldier," he remarked, very gravely, "I had a coat
an' a hat on, an' a muff an' a little knake [Footnote: Snake:
tippet.] wound my neck to keep me warm, an' it wained, an' hailed,
an' 'tormed, an' I felt bad, so I whallowed a sword an' burned me
all down dead."
"And how did you get here?" I asked, with interest proportioned to
the importance of Toddie's last clause.
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