at I may do, instead
of always thinkin' of what I have done."

"But the men in the fort have been kind to you of late, Cox?" I said,
questioningly.

"Ay, that they have, considerin' what I've done, an' how nearly I came to
workin' the worst of harm to all hands here; but I can see by their eyes
that they're always thinkin' I may play the same dirty game agin, though
God knows I'd stand at the stake with never a whimper till the life was
burned out of me rather than do one of them another wrong."

Had I felt at liberty to decide the matter then and there, Cox would have
been a member of the Minute Boys without further parley; but it was only
right I should consult the others, therefore I told him to come again
within an hour, when I would give him an answer.

He thanked me humbly, and was about to go away, when Sergeant Corney took
him by the hand as he said:

"What's in the past can't be brought back for the fixin'; but we've got in
our own keepin' the shapin' of the to-morrows. I'm thinkin' you won't go
astray agin, Reuben Cox, an' whenever I see a chance to speak a good word
for you it shall be said."

The man's face lighted up wonderfully, and in my heart I thanked the old
sergeant over and over for having been thus kind to one who, having
committed the worst crime possible for a soldier, stood ready to give up
his life cheerfully to the end that he might atone.

I called the lads together without loss of time, repeating to them what
Cox had said, and again was I made glad when they agreed without
hesitation to take him among us.

John Sammons was sent to bring up the new member of the company, and
Sergeant Corney said, grimly, as he tried without avail to pucker his
wrinkled face into a frown:

"At this rate you'll soon lose the right to call yourselves Minute _Boys_,
because this 'ere company is fast becomin' a refuge for the aged and
outcast."

There was to be mourning as well as gladness among us on this the last day
we were to spend in Fort Schuyler.

Toward noon a messenger from the general commanding came in, bringing with
him the sad news that General Herkimer was dead of his wounds, or, perhaps
I should say, because of his wounds.

As we were told, the general was safely taken to his home after the
battle, being carried on a litter the entire distance. The weather was
very warm, and soon the wound became gangrenous. Nine days after his
arrival, a young French surgeon who had been with General