Zeke growld something inaudible, and stalked to his hut in order to put away his equipments.

“I’m cook-in-chief yet,” Stokes declared; “and not a bean will any one of you get till you report all that happened.”

“Well,” piped Hi, “you may stick a feather in your old cap, Ezra, for our Opinquake lad captured a British officer last night, and Old Put is pumping him this blessed minute.”

“Well, well, that is news.  It must have been Zeke who did that neat job,” exclaimed Stokes, ironically; “he’s been a-pining for the soldier business.”

“No, no; Zeke’s above such night scrimmages.  He wants to swim the bay and walk right into Boston in broad daylight, so everybody can see him.  Come, Zeb, tell how it happened.  It was so confounded dark, no one can tell but you.”

“There isn’t much to tell that you fellows don’t know,” was Zeb’s laconic answer.  “We had sneaked down on the neck so close to the enemy’s lines—–­”

“Yes, yes, Zeb Jarvis,” interrupted Stokes, “that’s the kind of sneaking you’re up to—­close to the enemy’s lines.  Go on.”

“Well, I crawled up so close that I saw a Britisher going the round of the sentinels, and I pounced on him and brought him out on the run, that’s all.”

“Oho! you both ran away, then?  That wasn’t good soldiering either, was it, Zeke?” commented Stokes, in his dry way.

“It’s pretty good soldiering to stand fire within an inch of your nose,” resumed Hi, who had become a loyal friend and adherent of his tall comrade.  “Zeb was so close on the Britisher when he fired his pistol that we saw the faces of both in the flash; and a lot of bullets sung after us, I can sell you, as we dusted out of those diggin’s.”

“Compliments of General Putnam to Sergeant Zebulon Jarvis,” said an orderly, riding out of the dim twilight of the morning.  “The general requests your presence at headquarters.”

“Sergeant! promoted!  Another cheer for Zeb!” and the Opinquake boys gave it with hearty goodwill.

“Jerusalem, fellows!  I’d like to have a chance at those beans before I go!” but Zeb promptly tramped off with the orderly.

When he returned he was subjected to a fire of questions by the two or three men still awake, but all they could get out of him was that he had been given a good breakfast.  From Captain Dean, who was with the general at the time of the examination, it leaked out that Zeb was in the line of promotion to a rank higher than that of sergeant.

The next few days passed uneventfully; and Zeke was compelled to resume the pick and shovel again.  Stokes did his best to fulfil his duties, but it had become evident to all that the exposure of camp would soon disable him utterly.  Jarvis and Captain Dean persuaded him to go home for the winter, and the little squad raised a sum which enabled him to make the journey in a stage.  Zeke, sullen toward his jeering comrades, but immensely elated in secret, had shaken the dust—­snow and slush rather—­of camp-life from his feet the day before.  He had the grace to wait till the time of his enlistment expired, and that was more than could be said of many.