In the Saddle With Gomez

f our young comrades was Charles Hooker, a happy, handsome boy of nineteen. From the very moment his name was entered on the roll he became a favorite with all, from the highest officer to the last orderly. Tall and slim of stature, his brown hair was thick and curly, and his eyes were black, with such an innocent look in them that you could not help but wonder how he could accustom himself to a life in which death played sostrong a hand. Good-natured, with always a kind word of encouragement, he yet had so firm a sense of duty that everybody looked up to him. He had already seen much hard service, and at the time I write of wore the stars of a second lieutenant, emblems which he had won in battle. Late in the afternon of July 6th, in the past year, all was bustle and noise in the camp. Bugle-calls were heard, the men ran hither and thither, and the cries of the orderlies, mingling with the loud orders of the officers, had thrown the quiet camp into a state of uproar. "I wonder what we are up to now?" shouted Hooker, as he tightened the girth on his horse. "Don't know; I guess we will soon find out. Come on or you'll be late for formation, '' I answered, springing into the saddlo and trotting down to my place in the line. Horses were saddled, straps tightened, and equipments hastily buckled on. The line was soon formed, and as we stood at attention whileCaptain Planas was inspecting us we were wondering why we were called out at so late an hou...