"Make yourself comfortable," he said. "I'll have to hear the rest about
the half-breed when I get back."

"There ain't no more--yet. He got my cash with his private poker deck
that onced, and I'm fixing for to get his'n."

Second call sounded; the lines filed out and formed, the sergeant of the
guard and two privates took their station by the flag, and when battalion
was formed the commanding officer, towering steeple-stiff beneath his
plumes, received the adjutant's salute, ordered him to his post, and
began drill. At all this the unconventional guest looked on comfortably
from Lieutenant Balwin's porch.

"I doubt if I could put up with that there discipline all the week," he
mused. "Carry--arms! Present--Arms! I guess that's all I know of it." The
winking white line of gloves stirred his approval. "Pretty good that.
Gosh, see the sun on them bayonets!"

The last note of retreat merged in the sonorous gun, and the flag shining
in the light of evening slid down and rested upon the earth. The blue
ranks marched to a single bugle--the post was short of men and
officers--and the captain, with the released lieutenants, again sought
digestion and cigars. Balwin returned to his guest, and together they
watched the day forsake the plain. Presently the guest rose to take his
leave. He looked old enough to be the father of the young officer, but he
was a civilian, and the military man proceeded to give him excellent
advice.

"Now don't get into trouble, Cutler."