But Captain Bertley had seen and known much of this world and its ways. He instantly recognized the incident as a bit of malicious play upon the simplicity of the new recruit, and he took due note, too, of his own dignity. He realized how to balk the one and to support the other. He accepted the unusual and absurd demonstration concerning his health by saying simply that he was quite well, and then he kept the boy standing in conversation as to the state of a certain ford some distance up the river, with which Hilary was acquainted, having been of a scouting party which had been sent in that direction the previous day. The staring military spectators, their attention previously bespoken by Bixby, saw naught especial in the interview, the boy apparently having been summoned thither by order of the officer to make a report or give information, and thus the joke, attenuated to microscopic proportions, failed of effect. It had, however, very sufficient efficacy in recoil. Before dismissing Hilary the Captain asked how he had chanced to accost him in the manner with which he had approached him, and the boy in guilelessly detailing the circumstance, before he was admonished as to his credulous folly, betrayed Bixby as the perpetrator of the pleasantry at his expense, and what was far more serious at the expense of the officer. Jack Bixby, dull enough, as malicious people often are, or they would not otherwise let their malice appear--for they are not frank--did not see it in that light until he suddenly found himself under arrest and then required to mount the “wooden horse” for several weary hours. “You’ll be hung up by the thumbs next time, my rooster,” said the sergeant, as he carried the sentence into effect. “The Cap’n ain’t so mighty partial to your record, no hows. He asked me if you hadn’t served with Whingan’s rangers, ez be no better’n bushwhackers, an’ ye know he is mighty partic’lar ’bout keepin’ up the tone an’ spirit o’ the men.”