Evening journal., 1892-08-16

"Don't you remember, general says
Skerrett. chow Bunker Hill interrupted
the acting of a farce Of hisf Perhaps
Gates will make him pout his lip, as he
did when he saw you pointing the old
mortar Congress at him and Boston
from Prospect hill. Don't you recollect?
We saw him with a spyglass, and you
said he looked like a pelican with null
let in his pouch. BY the way, where did
you ever see pelicans:'
"When | was down to take Cuba in
sixty-two, and we didn't take It. I'll
tell you the story when ! feel brighter
We were wrecked, and had not thing
but pelicans to eat for two days-and
fshy grub they are!"
"Well, we must not despair" says
Skerrett cheerily, seeing that the old
brave began to brighten.
"Dethpairs' lisped Putnam, who's
agoin to dethpair. tell You. my boy,
you'll eat a Connecticut punlsin pie with
me yet, in peace and Pomfret. wish
we had one now for supper"
There's raw material enough about.
Skerrett said, glancing at the piles Of
that ponaceous berry which wallowed
among the cornshOcks and smiled at the
sugary sunset
Eyes; but this is York state, and pun
kin pies off their native Connecticut
soil are always a mushy mess, OF. else
tough as buckskin. Never mind, my
boy, Wen sit every man under his own
cornstalk, on his own squash and whis-
tie Yankee Doodle and call it macaroni
yet 1t don't look half so dark to me
now as it did in the Ticonderogy times
Did | ever tell you the story how the
Frenchmen and their cussed Indians
mauled me there"
"Its coming. | knew it would, ="
Thought Peter at the beginning Of this
sentence, "and did not bring any cot
ton to plug my earsw
WELL continued Put, without wait
ing for his companions answer, 81 shall
have to tell my tale another time, for
here comes my orderly with papers to
sign. You remember Sergeant Lincoln,
don't you, Skerrett?'
81 should not remember much in this
world, if he had not saved my life and
my memory for me- Shall l tell You
my story, short? Scene Bunker Hill.
A British beggar with baggonet makes
point at Peter Skerrett's rebel buttons
on his left breast. Rebel Sergeant Lin
coin twigs, describes a circle with a
muslSet's butt. Scene n-Bunker Hill.
A British beggar on his back sees stars
and points upward with his baggonet at
those brass buttons on the blue sky. In
the distance two pairs of heels are seen
these" says Peter, lifting his own,
"and yours, Sergeant Lincoln. And
that's what call a model story"
me quid minis, certainly. Not a
word to spare, sir" said the sergeant,
taking Peters profered hand.
He was a slender, quiet, elderly man.
Perhaps prematurely aged by care OF
campaigning or wound, rather than
old. He handed his papers to the gen.
eral and withdrew.
Il guess I've got the only orderly in
the Continental army that can talk
Latin, said Put, proud as if this pos,
session made a julius Caesar of himself
Lincoln must have been a school
master before he listed"
"There's no flavor Of birch about
him. Skerrett rejoined perhaps he
stepped out Of a pulpit to take the
sword"
HE don't handle the sword very
kindly. He's brave enough"
"But not bloody interiected Peter.
"No. There's men enough that car
squint along barrel and drop a redcoa.
and sing out, 'Hoorayl another bully
gonev-but not many like my orderly
that can tell you why a redcoat has 90
to be a bully and why we're doing oul
duty to God and man by a droppin OF
'em tell you, he in the ranks to keel
the mems sperits is with more than gen
erals could name with big applette
on their backs"
"Is that the reason why he stays il
the ranks and does not ask for epaa
lettesy
''He might have had them long ago
hut he's shy Of standing up for himself
/ guess he's some time or other Der
wounded in his mind and all the impu
dence has run out at the wownd."
Liberty, preserve me from sucl
phlebsN. n" devoutly calculated Peter
but mas tue sergeant Oeen with you al
this time"
"With my division. But l did no
have him with me in Westchester.
stationed him here to look after th
stores and put recruits through the mo
lions. Now, major, must look at thes
papers. Come to the council Of war to
morrow and give us a good word. w
shall want all we can get. The new
gets worse and worse. This very morn
ing General Tryon-s piteful dog-ha
been marauding this side of Peeksl1il
and burning up poor devil Of a villag
at the lower edge Of the Highlands"
larson Is shabby warfare, " said Peter
taking leave.
PART TWO-CHAPrER Il.
1t was in the skerrett blood to com
out red at q pinch.
ssTlinrs do look "A little duslrv for III