had a high sense of personal honour, and a peculiar reverence for women,
Crittenden asked no further questions, and was sorry, when he came back
to Tampa, to find him gone with the Rough Riders. With Reynolds, he was
particularly popular, and he never knew that the story of the Tampa
fight had gone to all the line officers of the regiment, and that nearly
every one of them knew him by sight and knew his history. Only once from
an officer, however, and steadily always from the old Sergeant, could he
feel that he was regarded in a different light from the humblest soldier
in the ranks--which is just what he would have asked. The Colonel had
cast an envious eye on Raincrow at Tampa, and, straightway, he had taken
the liberty of getting the Sergeant to take the horse to the Colonel's
tent with the request that he use him throughout the campaign. The horse
came back with the Colonel's thanks; but, when the order came that the
cavalry was to go unmounted, the Colonel sent word that he would take
the horse now, as the soldier could not use him. So Raincrow was aboard
the ship, and the old Colonel, coming down to look at the horse one day,
found Crittenden feeding him, and thanked him and asked him how he was
getting along; and, while there was a smile about his humorous mouth,
there was a kindly look in his blue eyes that pleased Crittenden
mightily. As for the old Sergeant, he could never forget that the
soldier was a Crittenden--one of his revered Crittendens. And, while he
was particularly stern with him in the presence of his comrades, for
fear that he might be betrayed into showing partiality--he was always
drifting around to give him a word of advice and to shake his head over
the step that Crittenden had taken.

That step had made him good in body and soul. It made him lean and
tanned; it sharpened and strengthened his profile; it cleared his eye
and settled his lips even more firmly. Tobacco and liquor were scarce,
and from disuse he got a new sensation of mental clearness and physical