Santy Annie hyar. He run so fast he forgit his laig an' all his money. Jest slashed his mules from dat coach an' skadoodled. Where you find dat drum?"
"In some breastworks."
"What you gwine to do with it?"
"Keep it."
"'Spec' you set big sto' on bein' a drummer."
"Shouldn't wonder, Pompey."
"Dis chile's so rich now he can be a gin'ral," Pompey chuckled. "He don't have to sojer common. Yes, suh; Gin'ral Scott am a great strateegis'."
The baggage train had not come in yet from Plan del Rio, and the camp was only a plain bivouac of blankets and haversack rations. Having little to do, Jerry was cautiously trying out his drum, when Lieutenant Grant spoke to him.
"You've won a drum, I see."
"Yes, sir."
"Can you play it?"
"A little, is all; but I'm learning."
"You want to be a drummer boy, I suppose."
"Yes, sir."
"Well, you have a chance. One of the drummers of the Fourth broke his leg on the way up the hill. He got in front of a spent solid shot. You might report to Drum Major Brown and see if he can do anything for you. I hope," the lieutenant added, with a smile, "you can drum better than you can cook or make a bed."
"Hope so, too, lieutenant," Jerry answered. "Thank you, sir. Hooray!"
Tall Drum Major Brown of the Fourth looked him over.
