And there he was happy enough, for he was rapidly growing into being the pet of the regiment, and first one of the men brought him fruit, and some one thing and some another; but Mrs Corporal was always pretty close at hand to take care that he was not spoiled or made ill, and Corporal Joe said over and over again to his wife, that it was "ama-a-azin'." "What's amazing, Joe?" she said one day. "What do you keep saying that for?" "'Cause it is," he said. "Yes, but why, Joe?" "'Cause ever since I found that there boy you've been as proud as a peacock with two tails." "And enough to make me," said Mrs Corporal tartly. "There never was such a boy before. Look at him!" and she pointed to where the little fellow, in full uniform, was perched on a mule-pack, and the baggage guard with fixed bayonets marched close beside. "Yes," said Joe drily, as he screwed up his face; "I've been a-looking at him a deal. His coatee fits horrid." "That it don't," said Mrs Corporal; "and it was the best I could do out of such old stuff." "Well, it weer old," said her husband; "but it's all crinkles and creases, and that boy puzzles me." "Why? How?" "'Cause you'd think after he'd seen his people killed and the house burnt about his ears he'd ha' been frightened like; but he don't seem to mind nothing about it, not a bit." "Ah, it is strange," said Mrs Corporal; "but there couldn't be a braver nor a better little chap." "That there couldn't," said the Corporal proudly; "but I think I've found out what's the matter with him. That crack on the head made him an idjit." "For shame, Joe!" cried his wife. "He's as clever and bright a little fellow as ever stepped." "So he is, missus; but he puzzles me. It's ama-a-azin'." The boy puzzled Tom Jones the bugler boy too, who whenever he got a chance came alongside of the mule or baggage wagon in the rear, and let the little invalid earn his bugle on condition that he did not try to blow it, and Tom made this an excuse for solemnly asking the same questions over and over again. "I say, who's your father?" "Corporal Joe Beane," said the boy promptly; "I say, Tom, mayn't I have a blow now?" "What? No, of course not. You don't want to send the men at the double up a hill like this." "Why not? I should like to run too, only I so soon get tired." "You shall have a blow some day. But I say, who's your mother?" "Mrs Corporal Joe Beane," was the prompt reply, and the boy drummed the mule's sides to make it go faster, but without effect. "Well, where did you live before Joe Beane found you?" "I don't know," said the boy, shaking his head, and Tom Jones stared hard with his mouth open before asking his next question. "I say, how's your head?" "Quite well, thank you," said the boy; "how's yours?" Tom scratched his as if he did not know.