"Holy Smoke!" said he, galloping off very fierce and grand on his
little horse, to haul Dr. Marcus over the coals. They say the
contract surgeon got it in the neck, but we were short-handed in
that department already, Dr. Fenelly having been killed in action,
so the captain could do nothing worse nor reprimand him. It was
bad enough as it was--for Marcus--for HE wasn't no old lady, and
the captain could let himself rip. And, I tell you, it was a
caution any time to be up against Captain Howard, for, though he
could be nice as pie and perlite to beat the band, it only needed
the occasion for him to unloose on you like a thirteen-inch gun.
Well, it was perfectly lovely what happened next, for, with all
her sassiness, the old lady felt pretty blue, and talked about
Benny for hours, like she always did when she was down-hearted;
and, by this time, you know, she had got to love Battery B, and
every boy in it; and it naturally went against her to think of
starting out all over again with strangers, and them maybe
Volunteers. So you can guess what her feelings was that night when
the captain went down with fever. It was like getting money from
home!
The captain had never been sick in his life, and he took it hard
to be laid by and keep off the flies, while another feller ran the
battery and jumped his place. I guess it came over him that he
wasn't the main guy after all, and that it wouldn't matter a hill
of beans whether he lived or quit.
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