roke out
in camp, and G. W. developed into a nurse of no mean order. He carried
water and bathed aching heads. Hot hands clung to him, forgetting how
very small and weak he was. "Sing to us, G. W.," often those weary,
suffering fellows said, "and don't give us the jig-tunes, old man, but
something soft."

With his brown, childish face upraised G. W. would sing the old
camp-meeting songs that his mother used to sing in the days of long ago
before he had dreamed of being a hero.

Was it the religious thought in the quaint words, or the tender quality
of the airs, or was it G. W.'s pathetic voice that had the power to
quiet the delirium and make it possible for the tired sick men to rest?
How can one tell? But as the boy sang stillness settled down over the
rough hospital, and many a "God bless you, G. W.!" came from thankful
lips.

Colonel Austin watched the little comforter bustling to and fro, and
with a grim smile he thought that the hero-side of G. W. was developing
fast.

The boy had grown thin, and an anxious, worn look made the small dusky
face very touching; but weariness, disappointment, and bodily discomfort
never dragged a complaint from the firm lips.

V.

THE BOY UP NORTH.

Just before the Colonel and G. W. had been ordered by President McKinley
to "move on," Colonel Austin had had the dear dusky little attendant
photographed, dazzling uniform and all and had sent it to little Jack
who was playing his harder part away up in the Northern home. Underneath
he had written, "My Body-Guard."

After Mrs. Austin had gazed long and searchingly at the radiant little
soldier, she had surprised her son by suddenly bursting into tears.

"Why, Mamma-dear!" cried Jack, "don't you like his looks?"

"Oh! I do indeed, Jack; I like his looks so well that it almost breaks
my heart--poor little fellow!"

"Poor little fellow?" Jack fell to pondering. He examined every detail
of the fascinating photograph--the suit of "real" soldier clothes, the
straight, proud wearer with that look of exultation upon his round face.
Why "poor little fellow"? Jacky would have given anything in the
world--except his mother--to have been in his place.

"Mamma-dear," he sighed at last, "I'd rather be G. W. than President of
the United States!"

Mrs. Austin laughed and wiped away her tears.

"That's because you are Daddy's boy," she replied; "but poor G. W. has a
hard way to travel through life, and your mother was wondering