but the fire leaped into their eyes, and they swayed with the
rhythm, and sang! Montague found himself watching the old blind
soldier, who sat beating his foot in time, upon his face the look of
one who sees visions.

And then he noticed another man, a little, red-faced Irishman, one
of the drummers. The very spirit of the drum seemed to have entered
into him--into his hands and his feet, his eyes and his head, and
his round little body. He played a long roll between the verses, and
it seemed as if he must surely be swept away upon the wings of it.
Catching Montague's eye, he nodded and smiled; and after that, every
once in a while their eyes would meet and exchange a greeting. They
sang "The Loyal Legioner" and "The Army Bean" and "John Brown's
Body" and "Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching"; all the
while the drum rattled and thundered, and the little drummer laughed
and sang, the very incarnation of the care-free spirit of the
soldier!

They stopped for a while, and the little man came over and was
introduced. Lieutenant O'Day was his name; and after he had left,
General Prentice leaned over to Montague and told him a story. "That
little man," he said, "began as a drummer-boy in my regiment, and
went all through the war in my brigade; and two years ago I met him
on the street one cold winter night, as thin as I am, and shivering
in a summer overcoat. I took him to dinner with me and watched him
eat, and I made up my mind there was something wrong. I made him
take me home, and do you know, the man was starving! He had a little
tobacco shop, and he'd got into trouble--the trust had taken away
his trade. And he had a sick wife, and a daughter clerking at six
dollars a week!"