Indeed, he was rather a favorite, since he was a genuine character; his gruffness had no taint of selfish greed in it; he minded his own business strictly, and wanted others to do the same.
When he first came into the company, it is true, he gained the enmity of nearly everybody in it, but an incident occurred which turned the tide in his favor.

Some annoying little depredations had been practiced on the boys, and it needed but a word of suspicion to inflame all their minds against the surly Englishman as the unknown perpetrator.

The feeling intensified, until about half of the company were in a mood to kill the Bugler outright.

As we were returning from stable duty one evening, some little occurrence fanned the smoldering anger into a fierce blaze; a couple of the smaller boys began an attack upon him; others hastened to their assistance, and soon half the company were engaged in the assault.
He succeeded in disengaging himself from his assailants, and, squaring himself off, said, defiantly: "Dom yer cowardly heyes; jest come hat me one hat a time, hand hI'll wollop the 'ole gang uv ye's." One of our Sergeants styled himself proudly "a Chicago rough," and was as vain of his pugilistic abilities as a small boy is of a father who plays in the band.

We all hated him cordially--even more than we did Marriott.
He thought this was a good time to show off, and forcing his way through the crowd, he said, vauntingly: "Just fall back and form a ring, boys, and see me polish off the---fool." The ring was formed, with the Bugler and the Sergeant in the center.
Though the latter was the younger and stronger the first round showed him that it would have profited him much more to have let Marriott's challenge pass unheeded.