Hilary glanced ruefully down at the hat that he swung in his hand, then with anxious deprecation at the Captain, whose face as he stood beside his horse, ready to mount, had flushed deeply red, either because of the reflection of the sunset clouds massed in the west or because of the recollection that he had earnestly recommended the boy to his superior officer, for this dangerous mission, and thus felt peculiarly responsible; for the letter had contained details relating to the Colonel’s orders from brigade headquarters, his numbers, and other matters, the knowledge of which in the enemy’s hands might precipitate his capture, together with all the detachment. “It’s gone, sir,” mumbled Hilary, the picture of despair; “I never knowed what ter do, so--” “So you let them have that letter--when I had told you how important it was!” “I don’t see how it could have been helped, since the boy was searched,” said Captain Blake, the junior captain of the squadron, who was standing by. “I am glad he came back to let us know.” “That’s why I done what I done,” eagerly explained Hilary. “I--I--eat it.” “All of it?” cried Captain Bertley, with a flash of relief. “Yes, sir, I swallowed it all bodaciously--just ez soon ez I seen ’em a-kemin’ dustin’ along the road.” “Well done, Baby Bunting!” cried the senior officer, for thus was Hilary distinguished among the troopers on account of his tender years. The gruff Captain Blake laughed delightedly, a hoarse, discordant demonstration, much like the chuckling of a rusty old crow. He seemed to think it a good joke, and Hilary knew that he, too, was vastly relieved to have saved from the enemy such important information. “Pretty bitter pill, eh?” “Naw, sir,” said Hilary, his eyes twinkling as he swung his hat in his hand, for he could never be truly military out of his uniform; “it war like eatin’ a yard medjure of mustard plaster, bein’ stiff ter swaller an’ somehow goin’ agin the grain.” The senior captain gravely commended his presence of mind, and said he would remember this and his many other good services. As he dismissed the young trooper and still standing, holding a sheet of paper against his saddle, began to write a report of the fate of the letter that had so threatened the capture of the whole command, Hilary overheard Captain Blake say in his bluff, extravagant way, “That boy ought to be promoted.” “What?” said Captain Bertley, glancing back over his shoulder with the pencil in his hand. “Baby Bunting with a command!” Despite the ridicule of the idea Hilary’s heart swelled within him as he strolled away, for he cared only to deserve the promotion and the confidence shown him, even if on account of his extreme youth and presumable irresponsibility he was debarred from receiving it.