are for you. They were made in Uncle Sam's
workshop, just where all the brave boys have theirs made"--

"You reads too fast, Colonel!" gasped G. W., tiny drops of perspiration
standing out on his face.

The Colonel began again at the beginning, and then went on, reading
slowly:

"I am sure they will fit, because a little messenger brought me the
measurements. Accept them with our love, and wear them like the
hero you will certainly be some day. There is just one way you can
thank us; bring Colonel Austin home to us safe and sound, well and
strong. See that he obeys you where this is concerned. We wish him
to do his duty, but do not let anything happen to him.

"God bless you, little soldier! That is the daily wish of

"The Boy and his Mother."

There was silence in the tent.

Then said the Colonel, "Well, why don't you open the box, G. W.?"

The boy was kneeling before the box, but his eyes were fastened upon a
photograph on the rude table. It was a photograph of "the Boy and his
Mother," G. W. felt certain; and he was realizing that these two, far
away in the unknown, had spoken to him.

"Open it, G. W.," again the Colonel said.

"You do it, sah! I clar I doan't dare!"

The officer laughed, and cut the string. Within the box, neatly folded,
but in such a way as to hide none of their charms, lay trousers and
jacket of army blue resplendent with flashing buttons.

Colonel Austin took the garments out, and held them up at arms' length.
They were small, but perfect.

"Lawd!" gasped G. W.; "for de Lawd's sake!"

A moment of breathless silence followed; then Colonel Austin said, "They
are yours, G. W., try them on! You are 'one of the boys' now for sure
and certain, buttons and all! See, there is a '9' on every button!"

Slowly the surprise cleared away in G. W.'s brain. He gave a low
whistle, like the note of a bird, and struggled to his feet, for he was
still on his knees by the box.

"Colonel," he whispered, "you ain't never tole me a lie--but dis here
'sperience done tries my mind! Turn away yo' head, sah."

Colonel Austin turned away his head and waited.

Behind his back arose a rustling, with mutters of impatience, as buttons
refused to comply with the nervous efforts of awkward and trembling
fingers. Then came a long breath of content, as things began to run
smoother, and presently a sigh of superhuman bliss; then a voice, new
and deep, gasped forth: