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Updated: June 12, 2025
"I am so glad you are going; but I am afraid you are too old; and if any thing should happen to you " Frank somehow felt that, in that case, he would be to blame. The old man said nothing, but kept poking at the coal with a trembling hand. "Here, Old Sinjin," said Jack Winch, "have a match. Don't be singin' your mustaches over the fire for nothing;" with an irreverent pun on the old man's name.
"Not dead yet," said the more experienced Sinjin, feeling Jack's heart, which was beating still. In corroboration of which statement Winch uttered something between a gasp and a groan, and rolled up horrible eyes.
This was the presentation of wreaths. Frank had made one for each of the company tents, and a fine one for Captain Edney, and one equally fine for Mr. Sinjin, the drum-major, and a noble one for the colonel of the regiment. He presented them all in person, except the last, which he requested Captain Edney to present for him.
The last time he awoke it was day; and the short-lived camp-fires were paling their sad rays before the eternal glory of the sunrise. The veteran Sinjin beat the drummer's call. Frank seized his drum and hurried to join his friend, beating with him the last reveillé which was to rouse up the regiment in the Old Bay State.
"Mr. Sinjin is going with us, Jack," said Frank. "Is he? Bully for you, old chap!" said Jack, as the veteran, with a somewhat contemptuous smile, accepted the proffered match, and smoked away in silence. "We are going to have a gallus old time; nothing could hire me to stay at home."
Frank takes some pine boughs, and lays them carefully over the old man, to shelter him from the rain. Hotter and hotter glows the old heart beneath; melt it must soon. "There!" says Frank in a whisper; "don't tell him I did it!" He is going. Old Sinjin can sleep or pretend to sleep no more. "Hello! Who's there?" awaking with amazing suddenness. "That you, Frank?
The spars of the transports were beginning to be thronged. Corporal Gray brought up a glass to Frank. "O, good!" cried Frank. "Is it yours?" "No; it belongs to Mr. Sinjin." "Did he send it to me?" "Not he! But he had been casting that sharp eye of his up at you, and I knew what he meant when he said, 'Corporal, there's a good lookout from the masthead, if you'd like to take a glass up there."
"There he lies, with blood all over his face." "And nobody caring for him?" "The boys have something else to think of!" said Ellis, with a pallid smile. Mr. Sinjin, having tied up the wound, directed him how to find the surgeon. And Ellis, in return, pointed out the best way to get at Jack. The company had advanced, driving the rebel skirmishers before them, and leaving Winch where he had fallen.
Frank, with his one hand, smoothed the pillow under the old gray head, struggling hard to keep back his sobs as he did so. "Who is my neighbor there?" Mr. Sinjin cheerfully asked. "Atwater," Frank managed to articulate. "Is it? I am sorry! A bad wound?" "The bullet went through a Bible he carried, then into his breast, beyond the reach of surgery, I am afraid," Mr. Egglestone answered for Frank.
"And I believe," said Frank, "that you know more about it than you will own." "Well, I have my suspicions. Shall I be candid with you, Frank? and you'll forgive me if I hurt your feelings?" "Yes," said Frank, anxiously. "Well, then," said Gray. "I suppose you know Sinjin had taken a great fancy to you." "I thought at one time he liked me." "At one time?
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