Smith and Brown found very little in the officers' room, dignified by the name of "regimental headquarters," demanding particular record. There were two red pine tables set together and forming a counter, behind which the regimental officers were supposed to be located; and on the end of the tables nearest the front of the house was a small desk, with pigeon-holes, at which, by the same fiction, the Adjutant was supposed to be always sitting, performing the arduous duties of his office. Supported by nails in the ceiling were two flag-staffs, their butts shaped to fit the muzzles of short rifles, and from the upper end of each depending one of the "guidons" of the regiment, gorgeously blue in color and lettered in shaded gold--understood to be the gift of certain ladies who properly appreciated the talents and devotion of the officers and the hopeful prospects of the regiment under formation. Behind the tables was a mantel; and on it stood two decanters partially filled with liquor, a plate of crackers and another of cheese. A Lieutenant was seated at the Adjutant's desk, engaged in filling up blank leaves-of-absence for each in turn, of a disorderly crowd of twenty or thirty soldiers who pressed forward from the door to receive them. Two or three of this crowd presented former leaves, to have them extended. One of these was refused, the Lieutenant laboring under some sort of impression that a private who had been three weeks under enlistment, and absent all that time on leave, would not become very proficient in drill unless he spent at least one week at the encampment before marching. The wronged man did not appear to take the refusal very much to heart, however: he merely remarked to one of the others, loud enough for the Lieutenant to have heard if he had been very observant, that "he didn't care two cusses for the leave: he would go off when he liked and stay as long as he liked, and he should like to see anybody smart enough to stop him." At the mantel, taking a quiet drink with half a dozen civilian friends who had been admitted behind the tables, stood a tall, soldierly-looking man, pointed out by Woodruff as Lieut. Colonel Burns. Unaccountably, he wore no straps on the shoulder, his blue blouse looking as if it was thrown on for use instead of show, and his whole demeanor that of a man who, if opportunity should only be given him, would be a soldier. He had his sword-belts at the waist, however, and also wore his sword, as if he had some indefinite idea that something would thereby be gained in an _appearance_ of efficiency for the regiment. "Have you seen almost enough?" asked Lieutenant Woodruff, of the two citizens. "Quite enough!" said both in a breath. "Well, time is just up," said the Lieutenant. "And in good time comes the drum-beat for evening parade. Come along, and see what it is like. I must leave you, but you can see the display without me."