“You’ve got to be a soldier first, before you learn to be an officer. You ought to enlist or go to school. Nearly all the company officers in the Regulars went to school at West Point. The old fellows were appointed or rose from the ranks, but most of them fought in the War of 1812 or in Florida. Some of the fresh civilians are jolly green when they join. My eye! I know more than they do. But anyhow,” Hannibal continued, as if not to be disagreeable, “the Fourth is a good regiment, next to the Eighth. You’ll learn, I guess. I know Lieutenant Grant. I know all the officers. He’s got a funny name. Ever hear it? Ulysses! That’s it. He’s not very big, but you ought to see him stick on a horse. Come along. Let’s go up on top of one of the hills and watch the shells.” Then, as they trudged: “Here come the sailors from the battery. Jiminy, but they’re black! It’s no sport, serving those big guns. I’d rather be in the artillery than in the infantry, though, if I wasn’t a drummer.” The tars from the naval battery trooped wearily by, for the beach and their ships. Black they were, with powder, and coated with sand, so that their eyes peered out whitely. “Did you give ’em Davy Jones, Jack?” Hannibal called smartly. They grinned and growled; and one of them answered back: “Aye, aye, young hearty. Blowed their bloomin’ bul’arks all to smash, that’s wot. Hooray for the navy!” “Hooray!” Hannibal and Jerry cheered. The sand hills were being occupied by officers and men, gathered to watch the show. The best point seemed to be awarded to a special little group―― “Say! We’ll have to take another,” Hannibal exclaimed. “There’s General Scott, again――and his engineers, too. We’ll get as close as we can. Wait. They’re coming down. You mind your eye and I’ll show you a fine officer.” The group, with the commanding figure of General Scott to the fore, gazing through glasses, seemed about to leave. “You see that officer who’s just turned our way? Talking to another officer? He’s Captain Robert E. Lee, of the engineers, on Scott’s staff. He laid out these trenches and batteries――he’s the smartest engineer in the army. The officer he’s talking to is Lieutenant George B. McClellan, graduated from West Point only last summer. I know him――I knew him when we all were under Old Zach, in the north of Mexico, before we came here with Fuss and Feathers. He’s smart, too, but he gets funny sometimes. Captain Lee is the smartest of all.” Upon leaving their hill the group passed nearer. Jerry might see that Captain Lee was a slender, dark-eyed, handsome young officer; Lieutenant McClellan was not so good-looking――had a long nose and a pinched face, and a careless, happy-go-lucky manner; was slight of build. General Scott towered over them all. What a giant of a man he was――and with what a voice when he spoke in measured sentences!