"‘Oh, Sir, I promised my widowed mother that never would I touch the accursed poison—no, not to save my life, if it was ever so. '
"‘Hear, hear, my little man,' cried the officers who had gathered round, and prepared to take his part against the Colonel, whose conduct surprised them. But with a wink which reassured them, the Colonel put on a terrible frown and again pointed to the rum.
"‘Drink!' said he once more, in a dreadful voice.
"Poor Horace fell upon his knees and raised his clasped hands to Heaven. How awful was his position! Either he must be guilty of an offence against military discipline, or he must break his word to his mother and go against his lifelong convictions.
"‘Oh, Sir, I cannot,' he cried.
"‘Drink!' roared the Colonel. 'Drink or die!' and he pulled a loaded pistol from his belt"
"They allus carries loaded pistols in their belts," corroborated Bobball, in a whisper, adding, as an afterthought, "and p'isoned daggers in their braces."
