We three thought we won those battles ourselves, but it seems that Swayne was at both all the time, helping us.

Take off your cap, Harry, and thank the gentleman." Swayne, a slender, fair man, not over twenty-three, smiled and extended a hearty hand, which Harry received with equal heartiness.

The smile turned into a slight twinkle.
"I've been glad to meet your friends here, Mr.Kenton," he said, "but the meeting has brought a disappointment with it." "How's that ?" "Until we began talking I thought I had won the Seven Days and the Second Manassas all by myself.

Now, it seems that I have to share the honors with you fellows." "So you do," said Langdon, and then he sang: "There comes a voice from Florida, From Tampa's lonely shore, It speaks of one we've lost, O'Brien is no more.
In the land of sun and flowers, His head lies pillowed low, No more he'll drink the gin cocktail, At Benjamin Haven's, Oh! At Benny Haven's, Oh! At Benny Haven's, Oh!" "Do I get it right, Swayne?
Remember that I heard you sing it only three times." "Fine! Fine!" said Swayne with enthusiasm.

"You have it right, or as near right as need be, and you're using it in a much better voice than I can." "I'm a great soldier, but my true place is on the operatic stage," said Langdon modestly.
"It's an old West Point song of ours, Kenton," said Swayne.