Produced by Suzanne Shell and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.) IN CAMP WITH A TIN SOLDIER. IN CAMP WITH A TIN SOLDIER BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS ILLUSTRATED BY E. M. ASHE [Illustration] NEW YORK R. H. RUSSELL & SON MDCCCXCII COPYRIGHT, 1892. BY JOHN KENDRICK BANGS. TO RUSSELL. CHAPTER I. THE START. "Br-r-r-rub-a-dub-dub! Br-r-r-rub-a-dub-a-dub-dub! Br-r-r-rub-adub-dub-a-dub-dub-a-dub-dub!" "What's that?" cried Jimmieboy, rising from his pillow on the nursery couch, and looking about him, his eyes wide open with astonishment. "What's what?" asked mamma, who was sitting near at hand, knitting a pair of socks for a small boy she knew who would shortly want them to keep his feet warm when he went off coasting with his papa. "I thought I heard soldiers going by," returned Jimmieboy, climbing up on the window-sill and gazing anxiously up and down the street. "There were drums playing." "I didn't hear them," said mamma. "I guess you imagined it. Better lie down again, Jimmieboy, and rest. You will be very tired when papa gets home, and you know if you are tired you'll have to go to bed instead of taking supper with him, and that would be too bad on his birthday." "Is papa really going to have a birthday to-day?" queried the little fellow. "And a cake with candles in it?" "Yes," answered mamma. "Two cakes with candles on them, I think," she added. "What's he to have two cakes for? I had only one," said Jimmieboy. "One cake wouldn't be big enough to hold all the candles," mamma answered. "You see, papa is a few years older than you are--almost six times as old to-day, and if he has a candle for every year, he'll have to have two cakes to hold them all." "Is papa six years old to-day?" asked Jimmieboy, resuming his recumbent position on the pillow. "Oh, indeed, yes, he's thirty," said mamma. "How many is thirty?" asked Jimmieboy. "Never mind, dearest," returned mamma, giving Jimmieboy a kiss. "Don't you bother about that. Just close those little peepers and go to sleep." So Jimmieboy closed his eyes and lay very still for a few minutes. He was not sorry to do it, either, because he really was quite sleepy. He ought to have had his nap before luncheon, but his mamma had been so busy all the morning, making ready for his papa's birthday dinner, that she had forgotten to call him in from the playground, where he was so absorbed in the glorious sport of seesawing with his little friend from across the way that he never even thought of his nap. As many as five minutes must have slipped by before Jimmieboy opened his eyes again, and I doubt if he would have done so even then had he not heard repeated the unmistakable sounds of drums.