I make my sticks sing on the leather.

'You shall take off your hat to the Little Corporal to-morrow, if you've still your head, brother'-- speak Davoust like that, and then he ride away like the devil to Morand's guns.

Ha, ha, ha!" The sergeant's face was blazing with a white glare, for he was very pale, and seemed unconscious of all save the scene in his mind's eye.

"Ha, ha, ha!" he laughed again.

"Beautiful God, how did Davoust bring us on up to Sonnenberg! And next day I saw the Little Corporal.
'Drummer,' say he, 'no head's too high for my Guard.