"Orter be turned out t' grass a leetle while," the adjutant
suggested.

The compliments he failed to hear soon came to him indirectly, and
he had much to put up with. He kept his temper and smoked
thoughtfully, and took it ail in good part. The night after he
came they put him on guard duty--a greenhorn, with no knowledge of
any orders but gee and haw. They told him he should allow nobody
to pass him while on duty, but omitted to mention the countersign.
They instructed him in the serious nature of his task, adding that
his failure to comply with orders would incur the penalty of death.
D'ri looked very sober as he listened. No man ever felt a keener
sense of responsibility. They intended, I think, to cross the
lines and take his gun away and have fun with him, but the
countersign would have interfered with their plans.

D'ri went to his post a little after sundown. The guard was
posted. The sergeant, with his party of six, started back to the
guard-house, but they never got there. They went as far as D'ri.
He stood with his gun raised.

"Come another step," said he, "an' I'll let the moonlight through
ye."

They knew he meant it, and they stood still.

"Come for'ard--one et a time," said D'ri, "Drop yer guns 'n' set
down. Ye look tired."