t that, in that case, he
would be to blame.

The old man said nothing, but kept poking at the coal with a trembling
hand.

"Here, Old Sinjin," said Jack Winch, "have a match. Don't be _singin'_
your mustaches over the fire for nothing;" with an irreverent pun on the
old man's name.

"Mr. Sinjin is going with us, Jack," said Frank.

"Is he? Bully for you, old chap!" said Jack, as the veteran, with a
somewhat contemptuous smile, accepted the proffered match, and smoked
away in silence. "We are going to have a gallus old time; nothing could
hire me to stay at home." For Jack, when inspired by the idea of change,
was always enthusiastic; he was then always going to have a gallus old
time, if any body knows what that is. "Here goes my shoes," pitching
those which he had worn from home into the fire.

"Why, Jack," said Frank, "what do you burn them for? Those were good
shoes yet."

"I know it. But I couldn't carry them. The other boys are burning up all
their old boots and shoes. Uncle Sam furnishes us shoes now."

"But you should have sent them home, Jack; I sent mine along with my
clothes. If you don't ever want them again yourself, somebody else may."

"What do I care for somebody else? I care more for seeing the old things
curl and fry in the fire as if they was mad. O, ain't that a splendid
blaze! It's light as day all over the camp. By jimmy, the fellows there
are going to have a dance."

John ran off. Old Sinjin had also taken his departure, evidently not
liking young Winch's company. Frank was left once more to his own
thoughts, watching the picturesque groups about the fires. It was now
midnight. The last of the old straw from the emptied ticks had been cast
into the flames, and the broken tent-floors were burning brilliantly.
Some of the wiser ones were bent on getting a little sleep. Frank saw
Atwater spreading his rubber blanket on the ground, and resolved to
follow his example. Others did the same; and with their woollen blankets
over them; their knapsacks under their heads, and their feet to the fire,
they bivouacked merrily under the lurid sky.

It was Frank's first experience of a night in the open air. The weather
was mild, although it was now November; the fires kept them warm; and but
for the noises made by the wilder sort of fellows they would have slept
well in that novel fashion. The drummer boy sank several times into a
light slumber, but as often started up, to hear the singing and laughter