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Ten of us slept on the floor of that little grogshop--the five of our
party lying spoon-fashion on two mattresses, Gerbeaux and Stevens making
seven, and three soldiers. The soldiers relieved each other in two-hour
spells, so that while two of them snored by the door the third sat in a
chair in the middle of the room, with his rifle between his knees, and a
shaded lamp and a clock on a table at his elbow. Just before we turned
in, Rosenthal, who had adopted a paternal tone to the three guards, each
of whom was many years older than he, addressed them softly, saying:
"Now, my children, make yourselves comfortable. Drink what you please;
but if any one of you gets drunk I shall take pleasure in seeing that he
gets from seven to nine years in prison at hard labor." For which they
thanked him gratefully in chorus.
I am not addicted to the diary-keeping habit, but during the next day,
which was Friday, I made fragmentary records of things in a journal,
from which I now quote verbatim:
Seven-thirty a.


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