Isaac's mouth was half open for a protest, when he remembered, and
leaning over seized the toe of each boot in a hand and wriggled his
feet. When we saw his face again he was smiling gently, and swinging
back, he nestled his head against the wall and closed his eyes once
more.

"You would have give your life," cried Perry.

But the only sign old Bolum made was to twirl the thumbs of his clasped
hands.

"Six months ago, six short, stirrin' months ago you left us, just a
plain man, at your country's call." Perry was thundering his rolling
periods at us. "To-day, a moment since, standin' here by the track, we
heard the rumblin' of the train and the engyne's whistle, and we says a
he-ro comes--a he-ro in blue!"

Had Perry looked my way, he might have noticed that I was clad in
khaki, but he was addressing Henry Holmes, whose worthy head was
nodding in continual acquiescence. The old man stood, with eyes
downcast and hands clasped before him, a picture of humility. The
orator, carried away by his own eloquence, seemed to forget its real
purpose, and in a moment, sitting unnoticed in my chair with Tim at my
side, I became a minor figure, while half a hundred were gathered there
to do honor to Henry Holmes. Once I even forgot and started to applaud
when Perry raised his hand over the gray head as though in blessing and
said solemnly: "He-ro in blue--agin we bid you welcome!"

A little laugh behind me recalled me to my real place, and with a