All shook their heads except Harry.
"What is it, Harry?" asked Talbot.
"It's a famous poem, sir, the music of which has not often been heard,
but I can translate from music into words the verse that has just been
played:
"In their ragged regimentals
Stood the old Continentals
Yielding not,
When the grenadiers were lunging
And like hail fell the plunging
Cannon shot;
When the files of the isles
From the smoky night encampment
Bore the banner of the rampant
Unicorn
And grummer, grummer,
Rolled the roll of the drummer,
Through the morn!"
The bugler played on. It was the same tune, curious, syncopated and
piercing the night shrilly. Whole brigades of the South stood in silence
to listen.
"What do you think is its meaning?" asked Lieutenant-Colonel St. Hilaire.
"It's in answer to our song and at the same time a reproach," replied
Harry, who had jumped at once to the right conclusion. "The bugler
intends to remind us that the old Continentals who stood so well were
from both North and South, and perhaps he means, too, that we should
stand together again instead of fighting each other.
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