The morning after his mother had gone into the history of his ancestry, as far as she knew it, he sought an army recruiting station without delay. The gray-headed captain in charge did not betray the surprise he felt when Graham told him he desired to enlist,—his recruits, especially negroes, did not often come from the class to which Graham evidently belonged. "May I join any branch of the service I prefer?" Hayward asked. "Yes," said the officer; and added, as a fleeting suspicion entered his mind that this negro might intend passing himself off for a white man if possible, "that is, of course, infantry or cavalry. There are no negroes in the artillery." Graham winced in spite of himself at this blunt reminder of his compromising blood, and mentally resented the statement as an unnecessary taunt. But he had determined to fight for the flag if he had to swallow his pride, and he was quickly put through all the necessary formalities of enlistment. His physical qualifications aroused the unbounded admiration of the examining surgeon, who called the old captain back into the room where Graham stood stripped for the examination, to look upon his perfect physique. "I don’t know about that broken leg, though," the surgeon said. "How long has it been well?" "I’ve had the full use of it for more than a month now," Graham answered. "It’s as good as the other, I think. It wasn’t such a bad break anyway." "How did you break it?" "In the Yale game at Cambridge last November." "Say," the surgeon broke out, "were you the Harvard man that was laid out in that last rush?" "Yes." "Well, I saw that game," the surgeon went on; "and I say, Captain, be sure to assign this young fellow to a regiment that will get into the scrimmage. Nothing but the firing-line will suit his style." "Which do you prefer, infantry or cavalry?" questioned the Captain briefly. "As I’ve walked all my life, I think that I’ll ride now that I have the chance," Graham answered. "Very well. You are over regulation weight and length for a trooper, but special orders will let you in for the war only." "The fighting is all I want," said Graham "All right," replied the officer. "I’ll send you to the 10th. They have always gotten into it so far, and likely nobody will miss seeing service in this affair." Graham was given a suit of uniform and ordered to report morning and afternoon each day till his squad would be sent to join the regiment. He carried the uniform to a tailor to have it fitted to his figure, in which he took some little pride; and lost no time in getting into it when the tailor had finished with it, and hurrying to parade himself before his mother’s admiring eyes. That worthy woman was as proud of him as only a combination of mother love, womanly admiration for a soldier, and a negro’s surpassing delight in brass buttons, could make her.