Lieutenant: Perhaps they'll be more careful after this, that is if they like him as well as they pretend to. Sergeant (_jumping up_): Oh, that's all real; they like him, you can depend on that. Didn't you ever hear how he came to be captain? Lieutenant: No, I have often wondered about it, for he's young for that position. Tell me all about it if you can. (_Seats himself on ground near door of tent._) Sergeant: Well, it was this way; it's not a very long story, but I might as well sit down. (_Sits on other side of door._) You see, there were two fellows put up: Kirkpatrick and Lincoln. The vote was taken in a field, by directing the fellows at the command "march," to gather around the one they wanted for captain. The other fellow was a good deal older than Lincoln and I s'pose most folks would say he was better fitted to be captain, but's sure's you live a good big majority went over to Lincoln's side. And I never saw a fellow so tickled as Lincoln was! (_Slapping his knee with his right hand._) Lieutenant: Well, now, they ought to stand by him and not cut up any more rowdy tricks, to have him disgraced by wearing a wooden sword. Better talk to them just as soon as you get a chance. Sergeant: I will, sir, that I will. (_Enter_ Private Dunn _at left. He comes down and salutes._) Private: You just ought to have been up the road with the boys a couple of hours ago. I tell you, we had heaps of fun. Talk about Indians! Lieutenant (_jumping up_) } Indians! Sergeant (_rushing to him_) } Private (_crossing over_): Indians! (_Waving his hands for them to remain calm._) No, just one poor lonesome, hungry Indian--an old one at that. Lieutenant } Did they kill him? Sergeant } Private: I guess not! the Captain was there. Lieutenant: Well, what _did_ they do to make any fun? Private: Well, they all ran at him with their guns, yelling "Redskin! Scalp him! Kill him! He's what we're after." Then the frightened old fellow drew from his belt a letter and whined out "Me good Injun, me no harm paleface. See--paper; from big white war chief." Someone grabbed the letter and read it aloud. It was from General Cass and said that the bearer Gerolomo was a friendly Indian and that he must be given food and shelter. Lieutenant: Forged letter, no doubt. Sergeant: I bet he was a spy. Private: That's just what the others said. They all got around him and yelled "Shoot him! Kill him!" till I didn't think the poor beggar's life was worth two bits. He thought so, too, I guess, for he was so scared that he was almost white. They were all around him so that he couldn't run--tell you it looked tough. (_Draws long breath._) Lieutenant: But go on; you said they didn't kill the worthless cur? Private: "Worthless cur!" Well, I guess not! the Captain heard the men and dashing in among them, he laid his hand on the Indian's shoulder, and he just roared: "The first man that touches him dies!" O, boys, you'd orter been there. (_Goes up._)