“You've got another invite to see the Colonel,” a grizzled old soldier said to Ralph a day or two after the engagement. “He desires the pleasure of your company in his tent. Leastwise, that's what it amounts to, though that ain't the language he {100}made use of. Wonder why I don't be asked once in awhile? He don't know what he's losing by not consulting me. But hurry up--'tain't perlite to keep him waiting.” Ralph trembled visibly, and every drop of blood turned to ice. He knew something must be wrong. Perhaps he ought not to have helped Charlie, but what else could he do? He walked briskly toward the tent of the officer. Colonel Hopkins was a stern, battle-scarred old soldier, who wasted no words. His keen vision could discover merit, however, and as he looked steadily at Ralph, he took his measure at once. [Illustration: 9108] “Your captain tells me you saved the colors of the regiment, in the late engagement?” “I did, Colonel.” “And you risked your life in so doing.” “Why should I not? I am a soldier, sir!” and the boy's “I will, with the help of Heaven!” was Ralph's fervent utterance, as he followed the orderly from the Colonel's tent. {101} [Illustration: 0109] One of the most brilliant affaire of the war was the charge of a body of cavalry under Fremont. This was a fine and choice {102}array of cavalry, known as “Fremont's Body Guard,” whose exploits were famous. It was commanded by Major Charles Zagonyi, a Hungarian, whose military record had been made in Europe. [Illustration: 9110] This dashing and fiery soldier, with a band of 160 men, charged upon a Confederate force of 2,000, who were drawn up in a hollow square. He rode across the field, unheeding the firing of the skirmishers, but charged into the midst of the Confederates, and with pistols and sabers, scattered them like dry leaves in the autumn wind. Not content with this, the daring Major chased them into the streets of Springfield, and fought them hand to hand. After this daring and unequaled achievement, he hoisted the National flag upon the courthouse at Springfield, sent a guard to care for the wounded, and then went quietly back to Bolivar. [Illustration: 0110] CHAPTER VIII. THE ARMY IN WINTER QUARTERS. [Illustration: 9111] INTER so {103}far had brought them much suffering and privation. To Ralph it was peculiarly dreary. With the prospect of a period of inactivity, it was strange that so little provision was made to protect them from the cold, raw winds that were so frequent. Many of the soldiers put up rude huts, made from the fine timber which grew so plentiful in that region, and those who were independent and enterprising enough to build for themselves, often fashioned a very snug, cozy little house. The rough stone fireplace, put together with Virginia mud, was never wanting. What though it was neither symmetrical nor artistic? The warmth and cheer compensated for the absence of both these features.