And the sooner the better.

I want no more red fezzes and breeches in my commands for the enemy to blaze at a mile away! I want no more picturesque lances.

I want plain blue pants and Springfield rifles, by God! And I guess I'll get them, if I make noise enough in North America!" Who this impassioned military critic was, shouting opinions to the sky, Berkley never learned; for presently there was a great jingling and clatter and trample of horses brought around, and the officers, whoever they were, mounted and departed as they had arrived, in darkness, leaving Berkley on his cot in the storehouse to stretch his limbs, and yawn and stretch again, and draw the warm folds of the blanket closer, and lie blinking at the dark, through which, now, a bird had begun to twitter a sweet, fitful salute to the coming dawn.
Across the foot of his couch lay folded an invalid's red hospital wrapper; beside his bed stood the slippers.

After a few moments he rose, stepped into the slippers, and, drawing on the woolen robe, belted it in about his thin waist.

Then he limped out to the veranda.
In the dusk the bird sang timidly.