Suddenly they came like a flood bursting the gates that confined it, and he choked and sobbed like a little girl.

He leaned upon his musket, covering his face with his arm.
"It's a hard case," said private Hapgood, who stood next to him in the ranks.
"I didn't think it would take me down like this," sobbed Tom.
"Don't blubber, Tom.

Let's go off game," added Ben Lethbridge, who stood on the other side of him.
"I can't help it, Ben." "Yes, you can--dry up! Soldiers don't cry, Tom." "Yes, they do, my boy," said Hapgood, who was a little old man, nearly ten years beyond the period of exemption from military duty.

"I don't blame Tom for crying, and, in my opinion, he'll fight all the better for it." "Perhaps he will, old un; but I don't think much of a soldier that blubbers like a baby.

I hope he won't run away when he sees the rebels coming," sneered Ben.
"If he does, he'll have a chance to see how thick the heels of your boots are," answered the old man.
"What do you mean by that, old un ?" demanded Ben.
"Attention--company! Shoulder--arms! Forward--march!" said the captain; and the discussion was prevented from proceeding any further.
The band, which was at the head of the citizens' column, struck up an inspiring march, and Tom dried his tears.