Part 10 (2/2)

”About six months,” replied the other, seeming to feel conscious that such a lengthy period had made him a model military man in every particular.

”Six months?” cried the General, striking his fist down on his knee.

”Why, great Heavens, man, I've been in the regular service for twenty years, and don't smell half as bad as you do!”

With that he waved his hand impatiently to Major Ten Broeck to indicate that the interview was ended, and the crestfallen young officer withdrew hastily.

On the morning of June 30 the men, idling about the camp, descried the columns of the Second Brigade, long, narrow ribbons in the distance, crawling toward them across the limitless, gently rolling plain.

Rejoicing and excitement broke out on every hand, for it meant that there would be no delay in the progress of the campaign, as many had feared there might be, since the Minnesota troops had been obliged to make a march of nearly three hundred and fifty miles from Fort Ridgely to the rendezvous. That the junction of the two brigades was effected so promptly in that vast wilderness was a matter for congratulation, and General Sully seemed to feel that he could not too highly praise Colonel Minor T. Thomas, the commanding officer of the Minnesota column, for the promptness and skill with which he had conducted his march. The newcomers went into camp beside the First Brigade, and the men of the two commands were soon mingled, telling one another of their respective experiences.

That evening, as soon as he had finished his duties for the day and eaten his supper, Al strolled into the camp of the Second, or, as it was generally called, the Minnesota Brigade, to see if he could find there any old acquaintances, particularly any who might have been at Fort Ridgely. Here and there fires were burning and the men were lounging about in groups, talking, playing cards, or otherwise amusing themselves. Long lines of cavalry horses extended between the company streets, securely tied to picket lines; and near the creek a large train of wagons was corralled, its outspanned mule teams, crowded within the great circle of wagons, seeming almost countless. As he walked along through the haze of dust made golden by the setting sun, Al noticed a cavalryman sitting cross-legged by one of the fires, engaged in the unmilitary task of sewing a b.u.t.ton on his coat. The soldier's back was toward him, but that back had an oddly familiar look. Al walked around until he could see the trooper's profile, then, with an exclamation of surprise and pleasure, he sprang forward and slapped the amateur tailor on the shoulder.

”Wallace Smith!” he exclaimed. ”Say, but I'm glad to see you, old fellow.”

Wallace looked up, startled, then sprang to his feet and gripped Al's hand.

”Why, Al Briscoe!” he cried, ”what on earth are you doing here? I had no idea you were within a thousand miles.”

”I came up with General Sully from St. Louis to help look for my brother Tommy,” Al answered. ”And you?”

”I am a private in the Eighth Minnesota,” explained Wallace. ”I became eighteen just before the column left Minnesota, and as soon as I did, I enlisted.” He looked inquiringly at Al's civilian clothes. ”Aren't you in the service?” he asked.

”No; not old enough,” Al replied. ”But I'm serving just about the same as a soldier. Practically I am on General Sully's staff.”

”Whew-w!” whistled Wallace. ”Lucky boy. That must be great. How did it happen?”

Mutual explanations followed and before long each of the boys knew the main facts of the other's history since they parted, nearly two years before.

”There are other old acquaintances of yours with us,” said Wallace, presently. ”You remember Sergeant Jones, who commanded the artillery at Fort Ridgely?”

”Indeed I do,” Al replied, recalling with quickened pulses the Sergeant's gallantry. ”Is he here?”

”Yes. He is now Captain Jones, of the Third Minnesota Battery and he is in command of our artillery; two six-pounder field guns and two twelve-pounder mountain howitzers, of his battery.”

”He certainly deserved promotion for his work at Fort Ridgely,”

exclaimed Al, enthusiastically.

”Yes, he did,” agreed Wallace, ”and his men say he is a fine officer.”

”Is Lieutenant Sheehan along?” asked Al.

”No, the Fifth has been down South for nearly two years, and he with them. But you remember Major Brown? He is chief of scouts with us, and has a company of about fifty Indians. Then there are several men among our different regiments who were at Fort Ridgely as refugees and who have since enlisted.”

”How many men are in your brigade?” Al asked.

<script>