es and the scratching of the pen so that the writer at the rough
table took no heed.

"Good mornin', sah!"

This time Colonel Austin turned. He was a firm believer in discipline,
and the unannounced arrival annoyed him. He swung around and gazed
sternly about six feet from the ground. There was nothing there! His
eyes dropped and finally rested upon the very smallest, dirtiest,
raggedest black boy he had ever seen. But the beautiful great eyes of
the forlorn mite looked trustingly up at the surprised officer, and
Colonel Austin noticed that the grimy cheeks were tear-stained though
the childish lips were smiling bravely.

"Good mornin', sah!" again piped the soft voice.

"Why, good morning to you!" the Colonel replied. He was always tender
with sick soldiers, women, and children, and the pathetic little figure
before him touched his sympathy. "Who are you, my small friend?"

"George Washington McKinley Jones, sah."

"Just so; and where are your folks?"

"No folks any more, sah. Daddy he done got put in prison fur life, sah,
'cos he killed a frien' of his, an' my mammy she done died yesterday. I
jus' come from her buryin', sah." Two slow tears fell from the soft
brown eyes and rolled over the stained cheeks.

Colonel Austin's throat grew dry, as it always did when he looked upon
suffering things bearing pain and trouble bravely.

"And why do you come here, my child?" he asked kindly.

"I likes de look ob your face, sah, an' I'se hungry--I'se starved, I
is--an' 'sides I want work!"

The boy certainly was not over nine, and was undersized and
childish-looking even for that.

"Work!" smiled the grave Colonel, "what in the world can you do?"

"Why, sah, I'se de best shot you ebber saw; I reckon I'se what you call
a real crack shot; dat's what I am, sah!"

The ring of pride in the piping voice reached the Colonel's heart. "Oh!
I see," he nodded. "You wish to be a soldier boy, is that it?"

The grimy little applicant drew himself up to his extreme height, and
replied with magnificent scorn. "No, sah! I does _not_ wish to be a
sojer boy. I wish ter be one ob dem heroes, sah!"

A joke was a rare thing in those dull, waiting days, and George
Washington McKinley Jones was delicious. The Colonel smoothed the smiles
from his mouth as best he could. But not a quiver of mirth ruffled the
dirt-stained countenance of the child. His severe stare sobered the
Colonel, and he asked in a gentle tone, "Do you know what a he