CHAPTER IX

“The best-laid schemes o’ mice and men
Gang aft agley.”

BURNS

They didn’t find Jim in the camp of his regiment, so went up to head-quarters to institute inquiries.

“Given?” a little thought and investigation.  “Oh!  Given is out on picket duty.”

“Whereabouts?”

The direction indicated.  “Thanks! we’ll find him.”

Having commenced the search, Surrey was determined to end it ere he turned back, and his two friends bore him company.  As they came down the road, they saw in the distance a great stalwart fellow, red-shirted and conspicuous, evidently absorbed in some singular task,—­what they did not perceive, till, coming to closer quarters, they discovered, perched by his side, a tin cup filled with soap-suds, a pipe in his mouth, and that by the help of the two he was regaling himself with the pastime of blowing bubbles.

“I’ll wager that’s Jim,” said Surrey, before he saw his face.

“It’s like him, certainly:  from what I’ve heard of him, I think he would die outright if he couldn’t amuse himself in some shape.”

“Why, the fellow must be a curiosity worth coming here to see.”

“Pretty nearly.”

Surrey walked on a little in advance, and tapped him on the shoulder.  Down came the pipe, up went the hand in a respectful military salute, but before it was finished he saw who was before him.

“Wow!” he exclaimed, “if it ain’t Mr. Willie Surrey.  My!  Ain’t I glad to see you?  How do you do?  The sight of you is as good as a month’s pay.”

“Come, Given, don’t stun me with compliments,” cried Surrey, laughing and putting out his hand to grasp the big, red paw that came to meet it, and shake it heartily.  “If I’d known you were over here, I’d have found you before, though my regiment hasn’t been down here long.”

Jim at that looked sharply at the “eagles,” and then over the alert, graceful person, finishing his inspection with an approving nod, and the emphatic declaration, “Well, if I know what’s what, and I rayther reckon I do, you’re about the right figger for an officer, and on the whole I’d sooner pull off my cap to you than any other fellow I’ve seen round,”—­bringing his hand once more to the salute.

“Why, Jim, you have turned courtier; army life is spoiling you,” protested the inspected one; protesting,—­yet pleased, as any one might have been, at the evidently sincere admiration.

“Nary time,” Jim strenuously denied; and, these little courtesies being ended, they talked about enlistment, and home, and camp, and a score of things that interested officer and man alike.  In the midst of the confab a dust was seen up the road, coming nearer, and presently out of it appeared a family carriage somewhat dilapidated and worse for wear, but still quite magnificent; enthroned on the back seat a fullblown F.F.V. with rather more than the ordinary measure of superciliousness belonging to his race; driven, of course, by his colored servant.  Jim made for the middle of the road, and, holding his bayonet in such wise as to threaten at one charge horse, negro, and chivalry, roared out, “Tickets!”