"No, sah."
"Won't you try to get word to him to come and see me here, if he can?"
"Yes, Massa, I'll try. But they won't always let 'em come. Maybe
they'll let him Sunday afternoon."
Sure enough, Cleary succeeded in getting permission to pay Sam a call
on Sunday.
"Well, old man, I've got to thank you for letting me out of a lot
of trouble," he cried as he clasped Sam's hand and sat down by the
bedside.
"Did they duck you, too?" asked Sam. "You must be stronger than I am.
It's a shame I couldn't stand it."
"No. When they'd nearly killed you they let me off. Don't you be
ashamed of anything. They kept you in there five minutes--I'm not
sure it wasn't ten. If you weren't half a fish, you'd never have
come to, that's all there is of that. And after you'd drunk all
that tabasco, too!"
"Is my voice quite right?" asked Sam.
"Yes, thank fortune, there's no danger of your squeaking like
Captain Clark."
Sam sighed.
"And is my nose quite straight?"
"Yes, of course; why shouldn't it be?"
Sam sighed again.
"I'm afraid," he said, "that no one will know that I've been hazed."
He was silent for a few minutes. Then a smile came over his face.
"Wasn't it grand," he went on, "to think that we were following in
the steps of all the great generals of the century! When I put my
head into the tub and felt my legs waving in the air, I thought of
General Meriden striking his head so manfully against the bottom,
and I thanked heaven that I was suffering for my country.
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