punch that wicked Beauregard in the nose. . . . Burgess, you and I
are neglecting our duty as heroes; there's much shouting to be done
yet, much yelling in the streets, much arguing to be done, many,
many cocktails to be firmly and uncompromisingly swallowed. Are
you prepared to face the serious consequences of being a hero?"

"Yes, sir," said Burgess.

"You merit well of the republic! The country needs you. Here's
half a dollar. Do your duty unflinchingly--at the nearest bar!"

Burgess took the coin with a smirk.

"Mr. Berkley, the landlady sent word that times is hard."

"Bless her soul! They _are_ hard, Burgess. Inform her of my
sentiments," said Berkley cordially. "Now, my hat and cane, if you
please. We're a wonderful people, Burgess; we'll beat our
walking-sticks into bayonets if Mr. Beauregard insists on saying
boo to us too many times in succession. . . . And, Burgess?"

"Sir?"

"Now that you have waked up this morning to find yourself a hero, I
think you'd better find yourself another and more spectacular
master. My heroism, for the future, is to be more or less
inconspicuous; in fact, I begin the campaign by inserting my own
studs and cleaning my own clothes, and keeping out of gaol; and the
sooner I go where that kind of glory calls me the sooner my name
will be emblazoned in the bright lexicon of youth where there's no