, for he set much value on his equipments, and the day
had been fatal to him. Thinking of his torn clothes and lost boots, he
hacked away with more fury than ever; a bright moon illumined the scene
of action, and his comrades were able to appreciate the brilliant valor
of our grenadier, who killed two Cossacks, and took an officer prisoner,
with his own hand.

After this skirmish, in which the detachment had maintained its
position, the captain drew up his men to compliment them on their
success, and ordered the clothes-mender to advance from the ranks, that
he might thank him publicly for his gallant behavior. Our hero could
have dispensed with this ovation, but he was not the less obliged to
obey.

Judge of the surprise of both captain and troopers, when they saw this
tall and stern-looking figure ride forward at a slow pace, with his
naked feet in the stirrups, and naked legs pressing the sides of his
charger.

The captain drew near in astonishment; but recalling the occupation of
the soldier at the moment when the alarm was given, he understood the
whole mystery. "Ha, my old comrade!" he exclaimed, "thou art like King
Dagobert--wearing thy breeches inside out."

In spite of discipline, this joke of the captain's was received with
peals of ill-repressed laughter. But our friend, sitting upright in his
saddle, with his left thumb pressing the well adjusted reins, and his
sword-hilt carried close to his right thigh, made a half-wheel, and
returned to his place in the ranks without changing countenance, after
he had duly received the congratulations of his captain. From that day,
Francis Baudoin received and kept the nickname of Dagobert.

Now Dagobert was under the porch of the inn, occupied in washing, to the
great amazement of sundry beer-drinkers, who observed him with curious
eyes from the large common room in which they were assembled.

In truth, it was a curious spectacle. Dagobert had laid aside his gray
top-coat, and rolled up the sleeves of his shirt; with a vigorous hand,
and good supply of soap, he was rubbing away at a wet handkerchief,
spread out on the board, the end of which rested in a tub full of
water. Upon his right arm, tattooed with warlike emblems in red and
blue colors, two scars, deep enough to admit the finger, were distinctly
visible. No wonder then, that, while smoking their pipes, and emptying
their pots of beer, the Germans should display some surprise at the
singular occupation of t