"I did once. A great while ago. But never mind about that. I believe in _you_, my boy. You have not seen the world and grown corrupted; you are still capable of a disinterested attachment; and may it be long before the thoughtlessness of some, and the treachery of others, and the selfishness of all, convince you that there is no such thing as a true friend." And the old drummer gave his mustache a fierce jerk, as if he had some grudge against it. "O Mr. Sinjin," said Frank, "I shall never think so and I am sure you do not. Haven't you any friends? Don't you really care for any body? Here are all these boys; you know a good many of us, and every body that knows you half as well as I do, likes you, and we are going off now in a few hours, and some of us will never come back; and don't you care?" "Few, I fancy, think of me as you do," said the old man, in a slightly choking voice. "They call me _Old Sinjin_, without very much respect," grinning grimly under his mustache. "But they don't mean any thing by that; they like you all the time, sir," Frank assured him. "Well, like me or not," said the veteran, his smile softening as he looked down at the boy's face upturned so earnestly to his in the fire-light, "I have determined, if only for your sake, to share the fortunes of the regiment." "You have? O, good! And go with us?" cried Frank, ready to dance for joy. "I've got tired, like the rest of you, of this dull camp life," said the old drummer; "and seeing you pack your knapsack has stirred a little youthful blood in my veins which I didn't suppose was there. I'm off for the war with the rest of you, my boy;" and he poked a coal from the fire to light his cigar, hiding his face from Frank at the same time. Frank, who could not help thinking that it was partly for his sake that the old man had come to this decision, was both rejoiced and sobered by this evidence of friendship in one who pretended not to believe there was such a thing as true friendship in the world. "I am so glad you are going; but I am afraid you are too old; and if any thing should happen to you----" Frank somehow felt that, in that case, he would be to blame. The old man said nothing, but kept poking at the coal with a trembling hand. "Here, Old Sinjin," said Jack Winch, "have a match. Don't be _singin'_ your mustaches over the fire for nothing;" with an irreverent pun on the old man's name. "Mr. Sinjin is going with us, Jack," said Frank. "Is he? Bully for you, old chap!" said Jack, as the veteran, with a somewhat contemptuous smile, accepted the proffered match, and smoked away in silence. "We are going to have a gallus old time; nothing could hire me to stay at home." For Jack, when inspired by the idea of change, was always enthusiastic; he was then always going to have a gallus old time, if any body knows what that is. "Here goes my shoes," pitching those which he had worn from home into the fire.