TIBERIUS SMITH
Tib—he sometimes called me by my stage name—and I obeyed him.
"A long, lean valentine guided me up the road to the firing-line, to where Tib and Jones were stationed. To my horror I found them facing the cliff, backs turned to the enemy.
"'For Heaven's sake!' I cried, 'let us receive our wounds in the breast and die facing the tyrant.'
"'When I begin to let loose Uncle Sam, just sound some merry lay on the horn,' ignored Tib. 'Give 'em boots-and-saddles and a bit of that Tyrolese warble.'
"I was so choked up I didn't believe I could wind the horn, but Tib and Jones were cool enough. Tib had the machine all ready, and as a fearful howl went up behind us he turned on the illuminations. There on the cliff pranced the Fighting Seventh Cavalry, while Banana Jones split the shadows with hoarse shouts and military orders, accompanying his vocal stunts by hurling rocks among the bushes—in short, making enough noise for a whole regiment.
"'An would ye save me, blow!' cried Tib.
"Forgetting my peril, really believing that the brave phantoms on the white rock stood ready to succor me, I fixed my eyes on Old Glory and gave them Dixie. Any one ought to fight by that tune! Between notes I could hear the great gasp of
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