Uncle Sam's Boys as Lieutenants: or, Serving Old Glory as Line Officers. Hancock Harrie Irving

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      "By George – he's got it!" almost shouted Noll. "What's – what's the real word, Hal?"

      Noll was now standing on his feet, actually trembling.

      Mrs. Overton fairly flew to her son.

      "What is it, Hal? What's the answer?" she demanded, in a shaking voice that was but little above a whisper.

      "It's – it's addressed, 'Lieutenant Henry Overton, U. S. A.,'" replied Hal, turning the envelope so that his mother might read. But a sudden rush of mist to her eyes made the letters blur.

      "Whoop!" let out Sergeant Noll. "Hal, you've won out!"

      "Why don't you open the envelope?" asked Mrs. Overton tremulously.

      "I'm afraid I'm almost too dizzy to think of anything," answered Hal in a strained voice.

      For answer his eager mother snatched the envelope from his hands, caught up her sewing scissors from a table, and held the envelope up to the light.

      "Now, take out your letter, Hal, as quickly as you can, and let us know what it says," commanded Mrs. Overton.

      Hal withdrew the letter from the envelope. It was from the adjutant general of the Army, stating that Hal had passed the examinations and that the President had just appointed him, ad interim, a second lieutenant of infantry in the United States Army.

      "Now, what's the meaning of that awful 'ad interim'?" demanded Mrs. Overton.

      "Why, you see, Mother, Congress isn't in session just now – "

      "I don't see what that has to do with – "

      "Why, Mother, officers are appointed by the President, and – "

      "And it's none of Congress's business!"

      "All appointments to commissions in the Army and Navy, Mother, are made by the President, subject to the approval of the Senate – "

      "I just knew there was some string to it all," cried Mrs. Overton.

      "As a matter of form the Senate has to approve. But the Senate rarely ever refuses to confirm the President's full list of appointments for the Army and Navy."

      "Tell me this, Hal: Is there a bootblack at the Capitol in Washington?"

      "I – I think it very likely that there is at least one, Mother."

      "Then we'll find out that the bootblack has to be consulted, too, my boy, before we're at all sure that you're really an Army officer."

      "Oh, no, Mother," laughed Hal. "I feel just as sure, at this moment, that I'm a second lieutenant in the Army as I shall ever feel."

      "I – I hope so," sighed his mother. "But I – well, I'm afraid I don't trust any one in Washington any too thoroughly."

      Hal laughed heartily. He had got over the first electric shock of the news, and was happy enough now to laugh at anything.

      "Noll, I hope you – " began Mrs. Overton, overflowing with generosity. "Why – where is – what has become of that boy? He was here a moment ago!"

      It was certain enough now that Noll Terry was nowhere about.

      "Mother," said Hal wisely, "you needn't look for Noll. He's beating a nine-second sprint to his own house."

      "He didn't need – "

      "Don't you understand? Noll is traveling hot-foot to his own roof to see if the postman on that route has left a long envelope for him."

      "Poor boy! I hope he has won his commission, too," sighed Mrs. Overton, wistfully.

      "Oh, I think he has."

      "He's a nice boy."

      "Mother, he's one of the very best fellows in the world."

      "I suppose Mr. Ad Interim will have a lot to say about Noll's commission, too," said Hal's mother.

      "Ad interim is Latin, Mother. It means 'in the time between,' or something like that."

      "Oh," smiled Mrs. Overton. "I didn't know but Ad was the bootblack at the Capitol."

      "I feel like running right after Noll," murmured Hal.

      "Don't you dare do it, my son. Don't you feel that I've any right to my boy's company in the first moments that such good news has come to him? Hal, I'm thinking how you'll look in your new uniforms —ad interim. Will you order a uniform at once?"

      "No; I rather think I won't."

      "Why!" demanded Mrs. Overton, eagerly.

      "Mother, you may think me reckless, and over-confident. But the fact is, I've already been measured for my new uniforms."

      "When? And when will they be here?"

      "Do you remember the big mahogany chest that I brought with me from the Philippines, Mother?"

      "Yes."

      "Well, the whole outfit of uniforms is packed in that chest."

      "Henry Overton – you take me right upstairs and unlock that chest – this instant!"

      "Come on, Mother!" Hal called back, gayly, as he darted out of the parlor and up the front stairs.

      "And they've been here all this time," panted the mother, as her officer-son brought out his key-ring and fumbled at the lock of the mahogany chest. "And you – you – you told me the chest held clothes of yours."

      "Well, that wasn't a lie was it, Mother?" Hal threw up the lid and lifted out a tray. "Now, wade into 'em. Look 'em over to your heart's content. Here's the dress sword. Isn't it a beauty?"

      Gripping the scabbard with his left hand, Hal drew out the handsome blade with a flourish.

      "Ugh! I don't like it, except to look at," shuddered his mother. "I hope my son will never have any need to cut up a fellow-being with that sword."

      "Hardly likely," chuckled Hal. "An officer carries only a cane or a stick of some sort just in order that he may point out the location of the enemy, or to indicate some tree on the other side that he thinks has a sharp-shooter up among the foliage, and, of course, he wears his heavy service revolver."

      "And an officer never leads a charge, flourishing his sword?"

      "Hardly. The officer would be in too much danger from the bullets of his own men if he got in front of them."

      "Then an officer isn't in so very much danger, after all," guessed Mrs. Overton, speaking in a tone of relief. "Some one in front of him will stop the bullets."

      "No one man can stop a bullet that's going under full steam, Mother. At two or three hundred yards' range, to-day, a bullet will pass through six or eight men in succession, if there are that many men in its path."

      "I – I guess I don't want to hear any more of that kind of stuff," shivered the little woman. "It all sounds – awfully dangerous!"

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