the stars and stripes and the regimental flag of blue and gold at the head. The companies changed direction into line three ranks deep, on the left of the music.
"Eyes—right! Right—dress!"
It was funny to see those eyes.
"Front!"
The eyes gazed straight before.
A man on horseback, who must have been the colonel, sat out in front.
"Support—arms!"
"Carry—arms!"
"Right shoulder—shift!"
"Shoulder—arms!"
"Present—arms!"
The band and field music marched up and down, playing bravely. The two ranks stood motionless, the soldiers as stiff as ramrods, their muskets held perpendicularly in front of them. Why, compared with these Regulars the Mexican Regulars, even the famous Eleventh Infantry of the Line, were only slouchers.
The music resumed position; the drums rolled, a bugler lilted a kind of call.
Pretty soon the colonel turned his horse and left; the company officers barked snappy orders, and the companies were marched back to stack arms again and be dismissed. Hannibal came rollicking without his drum.
"I'm off till tattoo at half-past nine," he announced, to Jerry. "No guard duty. Our company's to rest. If I wasn't a drummer I wouldn't have anything to do till to-morrow. But a drummer
