The compliments he failed to hear soon came to him indirectly, and he had much to put up with.  He kept his temper and smoked thoughtfully, and took it ail in good part.  The night after he came they put him on guard duty—­a greenhorn, with no knowledge of any orders but gee and haw.  They told him he should allow nobody to pass him while on duty, but omitted to mention the countersign.  They instructed him in the serious nature of his task, adding that his failure to comply with orders would incur the penalty of death.  D’ri looked very sober as he listened.  No man ever felt a keener sense of responsibility.  They intended, I think, to cross the lines and take his gun away and have fun with him, but the countersign would have interfered with their plans.

D’ri went to his post a little after sundown.  The guard was posted.  The sergeant, with his party of six, started back to the guard-house, but they never got there.  They went as far as D’ri.  He stood with his gun raised.

“Come another step,” said he, “an’ I’ll let the moonlight through ye.”

They knew he meant it, and they stood still.

“Come for’ard—­one et a time,” said D’ri, “Drop yer guns ‘n’ set down.  Ye look tired.”

They did as he commanded, for they could see he meant business, and they knew he had the right to kill.

Another man came along shortly.

“Halt!  Who comes there?” D’ri demanded,

“Friend with the countersign,” he replied.

“Can’t fool me,” said D’ri.  “Come up here ‘n’ set down ‘n’ mek yerself t’ hum.  Drop yer gun fust.  Drop it, er I ’ll drop you.”

He dropped his gun promptly and accepted the invitation to sit down.  This last man had some arguments to offer, but D’ri stood sternly and made no reply.

At eleven o’clock Captain Hawkins sent out inquiries for the sergeant of the guard and his relief.  He could find nobody who had seen them since dark.  A corporal was also missing.  The captain sent a man to look for them.  He got as far as D’ri and sat down.  They waited for him in vain.  The captain stood looking into the darkness and wondering about his men.  He conferred with Adjutant Church.  Then he set out with two men to go the rounds.  They got as far as D’ri.

“Halt!  Who comes there?” he demanded.

“Grand rounds,” was the answer of the captain.

“Lay down yer arms,” said D’ri, “an” come up here ‘n’ set down.”

“Haven’t time,” said the captain, failing at first to grasp the situation.

“You tek time, er I ’ll put a hole ’n yer jacket,” said D’ri.

One of the privates turned quickly and ran.  D’ri sent a shot after him, that only grazed a leg, and he kept on.  Then D’ri gave all attention to his new prisoners.  They could see no amusement in dodging bullets; they threw their arms on the side-hill and sat down with the others.

The captain swore as he submitted,