everywhere respected and honored as a brave
soldier.'_"

"What became of the dog?" asked another.

"He was carried on the roll of the regiment until he was killed by an
English cannon ball at Badajos. We took the skin and it is there, but
we buried the brave heart and the rest of him on the rampart where he
fell. The soldiers put up a stone above him. 'Here lies the brave
Mustache,' it read. I think the English left it standing."

"That Eagle has been in every capital of Europe, messieurs," remarked
another veteran. "Rome, Berlin, Vienna, Madrid, Moscow."

"It charged with the Guard at Eylau," said Drehon. "You remember,
comrades, some of you at least, how we went forward in support of the
battalions of the Guard under General Dorsenne?"

"I remember, I remember," came from one and another.

"_Hein_," said a veteran, "he was a bold soldier."

"And a handsome one. They called him '_Le Beau Dorsenne_,'" continued
Drehon. "The Guard advanced at arms-aport and so did we. Our drums
and theirs were rolling _La Grenadiere_. One of his staff said to him
as we drew near the ranks of the Russians, 'Hadn't we better begin
firing, my General?' 'No,' said the proud Dorsenne haughtily.
'Grenadiers keep your arms aport,' he continued as he saw some
wavering. 'The old guard only fights at the point of the bayonet.'"

"And what happened?"

"The Russians seemed to be paralyzed. They stood and watched us. When
they finally did fire, in their excitement, they overshot us. The next
instant we burst upon them. Our bayonets came down to a charge. They
couldn't stand before us, comrades. Corbleu! the white snow was red
with blood that day! A squadron of cavalry, the Emperor's escort,
struck them in the rear at the same time and between us we cut them to
pieces. They were heavy, those big Russians, to toss on the bayonet,
but we did it."

"Was that when the Emperor called us 'The Terrible Fifth'?" queried a
voice.

"That was the time."

"Tell us more," came from the excited assemblage.

"They gave us the gold wreath, there in Paris, after Jena and Eylau and
Friedland. They loved the Eagle then, those Parisians," said Adjutant
Suraif, taking up the tale. "The women fell on our necks and kissed us
when we came marching back. They threw us flowers. They opened their
arms to us. They gave us wine. Ah, that was fine."

"At Ratisbon," said the old Major, "I commanded the regiment at the
bridge-head. We fou