"Yes, they do, my boy," said Hapgood, who was a little old man, nearly ten years beyond the period of exemption from military duty. "I don't blame Tom for crying, and, in my opinion, he'll fight all the better for it."

"Perhaps he will, old un; but I don't think much of a soldier that blubbers like a baby. I hope he won't run away when he sees the rebels coming," sneered Ben.

"If he does, he'll have a chance to see how thick the heels of your boots are," answered the old man.

"What do you mean by that, old un?" demanded Ben.

"Attention--company! Shoulder--arms! Forward--march!" said the captain; and the discussion was prevented from proceeding any further.

The band, which was at the head of the citizens' column, struck up an inspiring march, and Tom dried his tears. The escort moved off, followed by the company. They pa.s.sed the little cottage of Captain Somers, and Tom saw the whole family except John, who was in the escort, standing at the front gate. The old soldier swung his hat, Tom's sisters and his mother waved their handkerchiefs; but when they saw the soldier boy, they had to use them for another purpose. Tom felt another upward pressure in the region of the throat; but this time he choked down his rising emotions, and saved himself from the ridicule of his more callous companion on the left.

In violation of military discipline, he turned his head to take one last, fond look at the home he was leaving behind. It might be the last time he should ever gaze on that loved spot, now a thousand times more dear than ever before. Never had he realized the meaning of home; never before had he felt how closely his heart's tendrils were entwined about that hallowed place. Again, in spite of his firmness and fort.i.tude, and in spite of the sneers of Ben Lethbridge, he felt the hot tears sliding down his cheek.

When he reached the brow of the hill which would soon hide the little cottage from his view, perhaps forever, he gazed behind him again, to take his last look at the familiar spot. His mother and sister still stood at the front gate watching the receding column in which the son and the brother was marching away to peril and perhaps death.

"G.o.d bless my mother! G.o.d bless them all!" were the involuntary e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.ns of the soldier boy, as he turned away from the hallowed scene.

But the memory of that blessed place, sanctified by the presence of those loving and devoted ones, was shrined in the temple of his heart, ever to go with him in camp and march, in the perils of battle and siege, to keep him true to his G.o.d, true to himself, and true to those whom he had left behind him. That last look at home and those that make it home, like the last fond gaze we bestow on the loved and the lost, was treasured up in the garner of the heart's choicest memories, to be recalled in the solemn stillness of the midnight vigil, amid the horrors of the battle-field when the angry strife of arms had ceased, and in the gloom of the soldier's sick bed when no mother's hand was near to lave the fevered brow.

The moment when he obtained his last view of the home of his childhood seemed like the most eventful period of his existence. His heart grew big in his bosom, and yet not big enough to contain all he felt. He wept again, and his tears seemed to come from deeper down than his eyes. He did not hear the inspiring strains of the band, or the cheers that greeted the company as they went forth to do and die for their country's imperilled cause.

"Blubbering again, Tom?" sneered Ben Lethbridge. "I thought you was more of a man than that, Tom Somers."

"I can't help it, Ben," replied Tom, vainly struggling to subdue his emotions.

"Better go back, then. We don't want a great baby in the ranks."

"It's nateral, Ben," said old Hapgood. "He'll get over it when he sees the rebels."

"Don't believe he will. I didn't think you were such a great calf, Tom."

"Shet up, now, Ben," interposed Hapgood. "I'll bet my life he'll stand fire as well as you will. I've been about in the world some, and I reckon I've as good an idee of this business as you have. Tom's got a heart under his ribs."

"I'll bet he runs away at the first fire."

"I'll bet he won't."

"I know I won't!" exclaimed Tom, with energy, as he drew his coat sleeve across his eyes.

"It isn't the c.o.c.k that crows the loudest that will fight the best," added the old man. "I'll bet Tom will be able to tell you the latest news from the front, where the battle's the hottest. I fit my way up to the city of Mexico long er old Scott, and I've heard boys crow afore today."

"Look here, old un! If you mean to call me a coward, why don't you say so, right up and down?" growled Ben.

"Time'll tell, my boy. You don't know what gunpowder smells like yet. If you'd been with the fust Pennsylvany, where I was, you'd a-known sunthin about war. Now, shet up, Ben; and don't you worry Tom any more."

But Tom was no longer in a condition to be worried. Though still sad at the thought of the home and friends he had left behind, he had reduced his emotions to proper subjection, and before the column reached Boston, he had even regained his wonted cheerfulness. The procession halted upon the wharf, where the company was to embark on a steamer for Fort Warren. As the boat which was to convey them to the fort had not yet arrived, the men were permitted to mingle with their friends on the wharf, and, of course, Tom immediately sought out his brother. He found him engaged in a spirited conversation with Captain Benson.

"What is it, Jack?" asked the soldier boy.

"I want to join this company, and the captain won't let me," replied John.

"You, Jack!"

"Yes, I."

"Did mother say so?"

"No, but she won't care."

"Did you ask her?"

"No; I didn't think of going till after I started from home."

"Don't think of it, Jack. It would be an awful blow to mother to have both of us go."

For half an hour Tom argued the matter with John; but the military enthusiasm of the latter had been so aroused by the march and its attendant circ.u.mstances, that he could not restrain his inclination.

"If I don't join this company, I shall some other," said John.

"I shall have to go home again, if you do; for I won't have mother left alone. We haven't been mustered in yet. Besides, I thought you wanted to go into the navy."

"I do; but I'm bound to go somehow," replied John.

But what neither Tom nor Captain Benson could do, was accomplished by Captain Barney, who declared John should go home with him if he had to take him by the collar. The ardent young patriot yielded as gracefully as he could to this persuasion.

The steamer having arrived, the soldiers shook hands with their friends again, went on board, and, amid the hearty cheers of the citizens of Pinchbrook, were borne down the bay.

CHAPTER X.

COMPANY K.

Tom Somers felt that he was now a soldier indeed. While the company remained in Pinchbrook, he had slept every night in his own bed, and taken his meals in the kitchen of the little cottage. He fully realized that he had bade a long farewell to all the comforts and luxuries of home. That day, for the first time, he was to partake of soldiers' fare, and that night, for the first time, he was to sleep upon a soldier's bed. These thoughts did not make him repine, for before he signed the muster roll, he had carefully considered, with the best information he could obtain, what hardships and privations he would be called to endure. He had made up his mind to bear all things without a murmur for the blessed land of his birth, which now called upon her sons to defend her from the parricidal blow of the traitor.

Tom had not only made up his mind to bear all these things, but to bear them patiently and cheerfully. He had a little theory of his own, that rather more than half of the discomforts of this mortal life exist only in the imagination. If he only _thought_ that every thing was all right, it went a great way towards making it all right--a very comforting and satisfactory philosophy, which reduced the thermometer from ninety down to seventy degrees on a hot day in summer, and raised it from ten to forty degrees on a cold day in winter; which filled his stomach when it was empty, alleviated the toothache or the headache, and changed snarling babies into new-fledged angels. I commend Tom's philosophy to the attention and imitation of all my young friends, a.s.sured that nothing will keep them so happy and comfortable as a cheerful and contented disposition.

"Tom Somers," said a voice near him, cutting short the consoling meditation in which he was engaged.

His name was p.r.o.nounced in a low and cautious tone, but the voice sounded familiar to him, and he turned to ascertain who had addressed him. He did not discover any person who appeared to be the owner of the voice, and was leaving the position he had taken on the forward deck of the steamer, when his name was repeated, in the same low and cautious tone.

"Who is it? Where are you?" said Tom, looking all about him, among the groups of soldiers who were gathered on various parts of the deck, discussing the present and the future.

"Here, Tom," replied the voice, which sounded more familiar every time he heard it.

He turned his eye in the direction from which the sound proceeded, and there, coiled up behind a heap of barrels and boxes, and concealed by a sail-cloth which had been thrown over the goods to protect them from an expected shower, he discovered Fred Pemberton.