Tom’s wound proved to be more serious than even the surgeon had anticipated; but the best care which it was possible to give in a military hospital was bestowed upon him.  Old Hapgood, in recognition of his services on that eventful night, was permitted to be near the patient as much as the interests of the service would permit; and the old man was happy when seated by the rude couch of the soldier boy, ministering to his necessities, or cheering him with bright hopes of the future.  A strong friendship had grown up between them, for Tom’s kind heart and brave conduct produced a deep impression upon the old man.

“Here, Tom,” said Captain Benson, as he approached the sufferer, a few days after he entered the hospital, and laid a paper upon the bed.  “Here’s a prescription which the colonel says you must take.”

“What is it?” asked Tom, with a faint smile.

“A sergeant’s warrant.”

“Glory, glory, hallelujah, as we go marching on!” exclaimed old Hapgood, jumping up like a youth of sixteen, and swinging his cap above his head.

“Shut up, there!” shouted the hospital steward.  “Don’t you know any better than to make such a racket in this place?”

“I beg pardon, Jameson.  I forgot where I was,” apologized the veteran.  “The news was so good I couldn’t help it.  Our Tom is a sergeant now!”

“Not yet, Hapgood,” replied Tom, feebly.  “I can’t accept it, Captain Benson; it belongs to Hapgood, sir, and I shall feel a great deal better if you put his name in place of mine.”

“Don’t do it, cap’n!” interposed the old man, vehemently.  “Tom shall be a brigadier general if the war lasts one year more.  I should feel like a whipped kitten if that warrant was altered.”

“The matter has been fully and fairly considered at head-quarters, and there is no such thing as altering the decision now; so, Tom, you can put the stripes on your arm just as soon as you please.”

Hapgood insisted, the surgeon insisted, and the captain insisted; and Tom was too sick to hold way with them in an argument, and his name was placed upon the roster of the company as a sergeant.  He was proud of the distinction which had been conferred upon him, though he thought Hapgood, as an older and abler soldier, was better entitled to the honor than himself.

It was six weeks before Tom was able to enter upon the actual enjoyment of the well-merited promotion which he had won by his gallantry; but when he appeared before the company with the chevron of the sergeant upon his arm, he was lustily cheered by his comrades, and it was evident that the appointment was a very popular one.  Not even the grumblers, of whom there is a full quota in every regiment, deemed it prudent to growl at the decision of the officers.  If any one ventured to suggest that he was too young to be placed over older and stronger men, his friends replied, that men in the army were measured by bravery and skill, not by years.