Part 16 (1/2)

”So black that even on a dark night he would seem to be clothed around with light.”

”Why did it never occur to anybody before that Santa Claus was a very black, black man?”

”Because we are the first who have ever seen him in the flesh.”

Caesar stabled his horse, went to the kitchen, where he lighted a fire in the big stove, and fell to work with a will and a wonderful light-handed dexterity that justified Mr. Moncrieffe's praise of him. The younger officers helped in turn, but in the kitchen they willingly allowed to Caesar his rightful position as lord and master.

Delicious aromas arose. The luxury of the present was brightened by the contrast with the hards.h.i.+ps and hunger of two years. More than twenty officers were present, and by putting together three smaller tables they made a long one that ran full length down the center of the sitting-room.

”We'll save a portion of what we have for friends not so fortunate,” said Colonel Talbot.

”You have always had a generous heart, Leonidas,” said Lieutenant-Colonel Hector St. Hilaire.

”We have much for others and much for ourselves. But many of our friends and many thousands of the brave Southern youth have gone, Hector. However, we will not speak of that to-day, and we will try not to think of it, as we are here to celebrate this festival with the gallant lads who are still living.”

Caesar proved to be all that his master had promised and all that they had hoped. No better Christmas dinner was eaten that day in the whole United States. Invincible youth was around the board, and the two colonels lent dignity to the gathering, without detracting from its good cheer.

The table had been set late, and soon the winter twilight was approaching. As they took another slice of ham they heard the boom of a cannon on the far side of the Rappahannock. Harry went to the window and saw the white smoke rising from a point about three miles away.

”They can't be firing on us, can they, sir?” he said to Colonel Talbot. ”They wouldn't do it on a day like this.”

”No. There are two reasons. We're so far apart that it would be a waste of good powder and steel, and they would not violate Christmas in that manner. We and the Yankees have become too good friends for such outrageous conduct. If I may risk a surmise, I think it is merely a Christmas greeting.”

”I think so, too, sir. Listen, there goes a cannon on our side.”

”It will be answered in a few moments. The favorite Biblical numbers are seven and twelve, and I take it that each side will fire either seven or twelve shots. It is certainly a graceful compliment from the Yankees, befitting the season. I should not have said a year ago that they would show so much delicacy and perception.”

”I think that the number of shots on each side will be twelve,” said Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire. ”It's three apiece now, isn't it?”

”Yes, three apiece,” said Colonel Talbot.

”Four now,” said Sherburne.

”Five now,” said Dalton.

”Six now,” said St. Clair.

”Seven now,” said Harry.

”Eight now,” said Happy Tom.

”And seven has been pa.s.sed,” said Colonel Talbot. ”It will surely be twelve.”

All were silent now, counting under their breath, and they felt a certain extraordinary solemnity as they counted. Harry knew that both armies, far up and down the river, were counting those shots, as the little group in the Moncrieffe house were counting them. Certainly there would be no hostilities on that day.

”Nine,” they said under their breath.

”Ten!”

”Eleven!”