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Updated: June 23, 2025
As my friend and I made our appearance under the fly, the company was in high glee, everyone enjoying himself with that freedom from restraint of rank peculiar to the American army-service. Clayley was a great favourite with the major, and at once caught his eye. "Ha, Clayley! that you? Walk in with your friend. Find seats there, gentlemen."
I had noticed Lincoln in conversation with several leather-legging gentry like himself, whom I knew from their costume and appearance to be backwoodsmen. All at once these saturnine characters commenced moving about the room, and entering into conversation with men whom they had not hitherto deigned to notice. "They are canvassing," said Clayley.
The 22nd of February being Washington's birthday, I could not get to bed as usual. I was compelled to accept an invitation, obtained by Clayley, to the tent of Major Twing, where they were using Clayley's own words "to have a night of it." After tattoo we set out for the major's marquee, which lay near the centre of the islet, in a coppice of caoutchouc-trees.
A copy soon reached Ransom, who, in his hour of indignation, made use of certain expressions that, in their turn, soon reached me. The result was a challenge, borne by my friend Clayley, and the affair was arranged for the following morning.
"But I tell yez I did hear a crack; and, be my sowl! it was the sargint's rifle, or I've lost me sinses intirely." "What is it?" I asked, attracted to the conversation of my comrades. "Chane says he heard a shot, and thinks it was Lincoln's," answered Clayley. "His gun has a quare sound, Captain," said the Irishman, appealing to me.
At ten o'clock I was in my own tent just twenty-four hours from the time I had left it, and, with the exception of Clayley, not one of my brother officers knew anything of our adventure. Clayley and I agreed to "mount" a party the next night and carry the boy to his friends. This we accordingly did, stealing out of camp after tattoo.
Clayley and myself entered the inclosure. As we pushed through a copse we were saluted by the hoarse bark of a couple of mastiffs, and we could perceive several forms moving in front of the rancho. We stopped a moment to observe them. "Quitate, Carlo! Pompo!" "Papa, mandalos!" We recognised the voices, and pressed forward. "Afuera, malditos perros! abajo!"
This was too much for the ladies, who, encouraged by the cachinnations of Clayley, laughed outright; while the major, with tears in his eyes, could be heard interlarding his coughing solo with all kinds of oaths and expressions. The scene ended by one of the young ladies offering the major a glass of water, which he drank off, effectually clearing the avenue of his throat.
After the surrender of the city we were relieved from severe duty, and Clayley and I, taking advantage of this, resolved upon paying another stolen visit to our friends. Several parties of light horse had been sent out to scour the country, and it had been reported that the principal guerilla of the enemy had gone farther up towards the Puente Nacional.
I was suddenly aroused by the voice of Don Cosme, who had risen, and was inviting myself and comrades to join the ladies in the drawing-room. I started up so suddenly as almost to overturn one of the tables. "Why, Captain, what's the matter!" said Clayley. "Don Cosme is about to introduce us to the ladies. You're not going to back out?"
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