They're recruiting a rough-rider regiment in San Antone. I
joined yesterday, and I've come to get my horse."
After a time Ellsworth said, "Alaire has commenced her action."
Dave took a deep, sharp breath and began to tremble weakly. "I
didn't tell her, but--you must. We can't go on like this."
"Suppose I just go to war and--and don't come back?" thickly
inquired the sufferer.
"That won't do. You won't get killed--fellows like you never do.
Wouldn't you rather have her know the truth than believe you to be
a quitter?" Ellsworth waited a minute. "Do you want me to tell her
for you, Dave?"
Law shook his head slowly, wearily. "No, I'll do it. I'm game. I'd
rather she heard it from me."
Blaze Jones took the San Antonio paper out upon the porch and
composed himself in the hammock to read the latest war news.
Invasion! Troops! The Stars and Stripes! Those were words that
stirred Jones deeply and caused him to neglect his work. Now that
his country had fully awakened to the necessity of a war with
Mexico--a necessity he had long felt--he was fired with the
loftiest patriotism and a youthful eagerness to enlist. Blaze
realized that he was old and fat and near-sighted; but what of
that? He could fight.
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