And under ordinary circumstances such might, indeed, have been the wiser course, but there were other surprises in store for Shorty and his guardians too. Even while the tall sergeant was asking certain questions there came the hoarse cry of the sentry in front of the building, "Turn out the guard! Officer of the day!" There was a scurry of feet, a banging of musket-butts, a word of command, a clash of steel, and after a moment or two of parley without there came through the dark hallway an officer whom Shorty saw to be a captain of infantry. His sash was old and weather-stained, his uniform a trifle shabby, but in every move there was the ease and swing of the old soldier. Hurrying after and ranging up beside him came another, an officer whose sash, belt, and dress were as spick and span, new and glossy as those of the officer of the guard, an officer who looked a trifle less at home in them than did the veteran on his right, but at sight of his face the light danced up in Shorty's eyes, and, forgetful of discipline, of regulation, of martial etiquette, propriety, he sprang forward with a cry of joy. Barely four months earlier, from his perch on the lamp-post and through blinding tears, the boy had marked him striding down Broadway at the head of a famous company of a famous regiment. Now here again he appeared, in the garb of the regular army. "Mr. Winthrop--Captain Winthrop! Don't you know me? Regy Prime!" And another of Pop's old boys, another Columbiad, another of New York's National Guardsmen, turned regular soldier,--the new captain threw aside his book and grabbed the youngster's hands. "In the name of all that's preposterous, Regy, what are you doing here?" And then, unnerved and overcome at last, fearful of breaking down, the lad looked imploringly at the big sergeant, and in twenty words the story was told. "Who ordered him confined? Who took his despatches away?" demanded the older captain, the old officer of the day, with threatening eyes. Not for the wealth of India would Sergeant Brennan sully the unimpeachable record of thirty years by a word of even inferential disapproval of the deed of a superior officer. "Call Sergeant Hanley," said he, and Hanley came. The question was repeated. "The officer of the guard, Lieutenant Hoover," said he, in answer. "My compliments to the lieutenant, and say I wish to speak with him," said the veteran captain; and there was painful silence as, a moment later, the junior officer came clinking in, his black eyes flitting nervously about, his blue lips twitching. "This way, if you please, Mr. Hoover," said the senior captain. "Captain Winthrop, will you favor me?" And ushering them both into the little guard-room, the captain closed the door.