They also gave him a camp stool, no small luxury in an army that marches and fights hard, using more gunpowder than anything else.
Harry put the stool against a tree, sat on it and leaned back against the trunk, feeling a great sense of luxury.

The two men regarded him with a benevolent eye.

They, too, were enjoying luxuries, cigars which a cavalry detail had captured from the enemy.

It struck Harry at the moment that although one was of British descent and the other of French they were very much alike.

South Carolina had bred them and then West Point had cast them in her unbreakable mold.