indispensable. The small hotels
and taverns along the railways peculiarly evidenced this; for, demands
of passengers must be supplied, and this was the moment for harvest
full and fat. Disgust, wetting, gin and detention had made me feel
wolfish; but I wanted none of _that_ breakfast. Still, I gave the
baldheaded man, with nose like a vulture--collecting nimbly the dollars
of the soldiers--a very decided expression of my opinion. He seemed
deeply pained thereat; but no one ever mentioned that he had put down
the price.

At the depot was Frank C., an old chum of Washington "germans," in the
new dress of first sergeant of a Georgia battery. He was rushing a
carload of company property to Richmond, and was as eager as I and the
Crescents to get to that goal. So, between us, the railroad
superintendent was badgered into an extra engine; and, mounting Frank's
triumphal car, we bumped away from fellow travelers, wandering
dolefully through the mud in vain attempt at time-killing until the
evening train. That freight-car--piled as it was with ammunition,
wheels and harness--was a Godsend, after the past three days. Cicero,
Frank's ancient and black Man Friday, dispensed hot coffee and huge
hunks of bread and ham; and a violin and two good voices among the
Crescents made the time skim along far faster than since starting.

"How is it you haven't your commission?" one of the Creoles asked the
Georgian. "When we parted at Montgomery it was promised you."

"Pledges are not commissions, though," was the careless reply. "I got
tired of waiting the Secretary's caprices, when there was real work to
be done; so one day I went to the War Department and demanded either my
sheepskin, or a positive refusal. I got only more promises; so I told
the Sec. I needed no charity from the government, but would present it
with a company! Then, to be as good as my word, I sold some cotton and
some stock, equipped this company and--_voila tout!_"

"But you are not commanding your company?"

"Couldn't do it, you see. Wouldn't let the boys elect me an officer and
have the Sec. think I had _bought_ my commission! But, old fellow, I'll
win it before the month is out; and, if God spares me, mother shall
call her boy Colonel Frank, before Christmas!"

Poor Frank! Before the hoped-for day his bones were bleaching in front
of Fort Magruder. One morning the retreat from Yorktown--a pitiful
roadside skirmish--a bullet in his brain--and the tramp of McClel