When the order to prepare for the march came, Glen, following the example of his comrades, packed three days' cooked rations in his haversack, made his blankets into a roll, tieing their ends together, threw them scarf-fashion over his shoulder, and took his accustomed place as file-closer in the rear of his company. He was conscious all the time, though he suffered no outward sign to betray the fact, that he was closely watched by the boys who had been with him in Western Virginia, and who were eager to see how he would demean himself in this new emergency. He was shortly ordered to assist in the inspection of cartridge-boxes and the issuing of cartridges, adn the grim nature of the errand they were about to start upon duly impressed itself upon his mind as he walked down the lines in the melancholy rains, examined each box, and gave the owner the quantity of cartridges required to make up the quota of forty rounds per man. Those who scrutinized his face as he passed slowly by, saw underneath the dripping eaves of his broad-brimmed hat firm-set lines about his mouth, and a little more luminous light in his eyes. “Harry Glen's screwing his courage to the sticking point. He's bound to go through this time,” said Kent Edwards. “The more fool he,” answered Abe Bolton, adjusting his poncho so as to better protect his cartridges and rations from the rain. “If he wanted to play the warrior all so bold why didn't he improve his opportunities in West Virginia, when it was fine weather and he only had three months to do it in? Now that he's in for three years it will be almighty strange if he can't find a pleasanter time to make his little strut on the field of battle than in this infernal soak.” “I have seen better days than this, as the tramp remarked who had once been a bank cashier,” murmured kent, tightening the tompion in his musket-muzzle with a piece of paper, the better to exclude the moisture, and wrapping a part of the poncho around the lock for the same purpose. “Where is that canteen?” “It's where it'll do you no good until you need it much worse'n you do now. O, I know you of old, Mr. Kent Edwards,” continued Abe, with that deep sarcasm, which was his nearest approach to humor. “I may say that I've had the advantages of an intimate acquaintance with you for years, and when I trust you with a full canteen of apple-jack at the beginning of such a march as this'll be, I'll be ready to enlist in the permanent garrison of a lunatic asylum, I will. This canteen ony holds three pints; that's great deal less'n you do. It's full now, and you're empty. Fill up some place else, and tomorrow or next day, when you'd give a farm for a nip, this'll come in mighty handy.” The Hospital Steward approached, and said: