Broussard immediately threw away his cigar, too, which annoyed the Colonel.
"Why don't you keep on smoking ?" asked the Colonel tartly.
"Oh, I don't care about it particularly," shamelessly answered Broussard, who was an inveterate smoker.
"When we got out of tobacco in the jungle I kept the men quiet by singing the old song ''Twas Off the Blue Canaries I Smoked My Last Cigar.'" "Music has always had a soothing influence over me," said Colonel Fortescue, after a moment.

"Suppose you sing that song.

It may help this infernal ankle of mine." Broussard obeyed orders immediately, and the old song was sung with all the feeling that Broussard could infuse into his fine, rich voice.

When it was over, the Colonel said sternly: "Sing another song.

Keep on singing until I tell you to quit." Broussard, being a sly dog, did not sing any of the modern songs that he was wont to troll out at the club, or on the march, but chose for his second number a song that subalterns sang to pianos, to banjos and guitars, and even without accompaniment, the favorite song of the subaltern, "A Warrior Bold." Broussard's clear baritone, sweet and ringing, echoed among the icy cliffs in the wintry dusk.