The Young Buglers by G. A. Henty (little readers txt) 📖

invoked, Sam's face assumed the pompons air with which he always related a story, and he began,—

"Well, sar, de affair happened in dis way. When de massas arribe, two o'clock, and went in for long talk wid de colonel, dis chile said to himself, 'Now what am I going to get them for dinner?' De rations sarve out dis morning war all skin and bone, and war pretty nigh finished at lunch. Sam say to himself, 'Captain Manley's sure to say, 'You dine wid me;' but as Captain Manley hadn't got no food himself, de invitation was berry kind, berry kind indeed; but massa wasn't likely to get fat on dat invitation."

Sam's narrative was interrupted by a perfect shout of laughter upon the part of all at table, Captain Manley joining heartily in the laugh against himself. When they had a little recovered again, Sam went on as gravely as ever. "Dis struck Sam berry serious, not to have nothing for dinner after being away seben months; presently idea occur to dis chile, and he stroll permiscuous up to big farm-house on hill. When Sam got near house, kept out of sight of window; at last got quite close, took off shako, and put head suddenly in at window. Sure enough, just what Sam expected, dere sat missus of farm, fat ole woman, wid fat ole servant opposite her. De door was open, and dis little pig and several of his broders and sisters was a frisking in and out. De old women look up bofe togeder, and dey give a awful shriek when dey saw dis chile's head; dey fought it were de debil, sure enough. Dey drop down on dere knees, and begin to pray as fast as maybe. Den I give a loud 'Yah! yah!' and dey screams out fresh. 'Oh! good massa debil!' says the ole woman, 'what you want? I been berry, berry bad, but don't take me away.' You see, Massa Tom, I pick up little Spanish, 'nuff to understand since you been gone. I not say nuffin, and de ole woman den go on, 'If you want one soul Massa Debil, take dis here,' pointing to her serbant;' she been much more wicked nor me.' Den de serbant she set up awful shriek, and I says, 'Dis time I hab pity on you, next time I come, if you not good I carry you bofe away. But must take soul away to big debil 'else he neber forgibe me. Dere, I will carry off soul of little pig. Gib it me.' De serbant she gives cry ob joy, jump up, seize little pig, and berry much afraid, bring him to window. Before I take him I say to old missus, 'Dis a free gibt on your part?' and she say, 'Oh, yes, oh, yes, good Massa Debil, you can take dem all if you like.' I say, 'No; only one—and now me gib you bit advice. My Massa down below hear you very bad ole women, never gib noting to de poor, berry hard, berry hard. Me advise you change your conduct, or, as sure as eggs is eggs, he send me up again for you no time.' Den I gave two great 'Yah! yah's!' again berry loud, and showed de white ob my eyes, and dey went down on to knees again, and I go quietly round corner ob house, and walk home wid de pig which was giben to me. Noting like stealing about dat, Massa Manley, sar!"

Sam's story was received with roars of laughter, and when they had recovered themselves a little, Captain Manley said, "It is lucky we march to-morrow, Sam, for if the good woman were to catch a glimpse of you in uniform, and were to find she had been tricked, she might lay a complaint against you, and although, as you say, the pig was freely given to you, I imagine the Provost Marshal might consider that it was obtained under false pretences. But here are the other men outside, we had better adjourn, for every one is longing to hear your adventures."

It was a lovely evening, and as the officers of the Norfolk Rangers sat or lay round the fire, which was lit for light and cheerfulness rather than warmth, the boys, after their long wanderings among strangers, felt how pleasant and bright life was among friends and comrades. They had first to relate their adventures with the guerillas, after which it was agreed that they had earned the right to be silent for the rest of the evening, and song, and jest, and merry story went round the ring.

Sam was installed under the direction of the doctor, a jovial Irishman, as concocter of punch, and his office was by no means a sinecure.

"Now, major, give us the song of the regiment," Captain Manley said, and, as he spoke, there was a general cry round the circle of "The Rangers, the Rangers." "I'm agreeable," the major said. "Give me another tumbler of punch to get my pipes in order. Make it a little sweeter than the last brew, Sam; yes, that's better. Well, here goes—full chorus, and no shirking."

THE RANGERS. "Hurrah for the Rangers, hurrah! hurrah! Here's to the corps that we love so well; Ever the first in the deadly fray, Steady and firm amid shot and shell. Scattered as skirmishers out in the front, Contesting each foot of the ground we hold, Nor yielding a step though we bear the brunt Of the first attack of the foeman bold. Hurrah for the Rangers, hurrah! hurrah! Here's to the corps that we love so well; Ever the first in the deadly fray, Steady and firm amid shot and shell. "Steady boys, steady, the foe falls back, Sullenly back to the beat of the drum, Hark to the thunder that nears our flank Rally in square, boys, their cavalry come. Squadron on squadron, wave upon wave, Dashing along with an ocean's force, But they break into spray on our bayonets' points, And we mock at the fury of rider and horse. Hurrah for the Rangers, &c. "The gunner may boast of the death he deals As he shatters the foe with his iron hail, And may laugh with pride as he checks the charge, Or sees the dark column falter and quail. But the gunner fights with the foe afar, In the rear of the line is the battery's place, The Ranger fights with a sterner joy For he strives with his foemen face to face. Hurrah for the Rangers, &c. "The cavalry man is dashing and gay, His steed is fast, and his blade is fine, He blithely rides to the fiercest fray, And cuts his way through the foeman's line, But the wild, fierce joys of the deadly breach, Or the patient pluck of the serried square Are far away from the horseman's reach, While the Norfolk Rangers are sure to be there. Hurrah for the Rangers, &c."

Long, loud, and hearty was the cheering as the last chorus concluded. "Very good song, very well sung, jolly companions every one," shouted the doctor. "Now, Manley, keep the ball rolling, give us the 'The Bivouac,'" Captain Manley emptied his glass, and, without hesitation, began—

THE BIVOUAC. "The weary march is over, boys, the camp fire's burning bright, So gather round the blazing logs, we'll keep high feast to-night, For every heart is full of joy, and every cheek aglow, That after months of waiting, at last we meet the foe. To-morrow's sun will see the fight, and ere that sun goes down, Our glorious flag another wreath of victory shall crown. Hurrah, hurrah for the bivouac, With comrades tried and true, With faces bright, and spirits light, And the foemen's fires in view. "Then fill your cups with Spanish wine, and let the toast go round, Here's a health to all who love us on dear old England's ground. Be their tresses gold or auburn, or black as ebon's hue, Be their eyes of witching hazel, loving gray, or heaven's blue, Here's to them all, the girls we love, God bless them every one; May we all be here to toast them when to-morrow's work is done. Hurrah, hurrah, &c. "But whate'er to-morrow bring us, it shall shed no gloom to-night, For a British soldier does not flinch from thought of death in fight; No better ending could we wish, no worthier do we know, Than to fall for King and country, with our face towards the foe;