“Bumpus,” observed Giraffe, solemnly, “you never said truer words—we could; and there might even be some things we’d be glad to part with, but which seem to hang on to us just everlastingly.”
Davy seemed amused at hearing the tall scout say this; but Bumpus either mistook it for a compliment, or else chose to act as if he did; for he grinned, and nodded, and wandered back to the tents to get his gun; for Thad had selected the first watch for himself and his partner.
“I’ll just show ’em that I can stay awake these days,” he was saying to himself in his positive way. “Time may have been when I was just a little mite weak that way; but I’ve reformed, so I have. Huh! what’s two hours to me, I’d like to know?”
Some of the other scouts might, had they chosen, have recalled numerous instances where Bumpus, being set on guard, had later on been found “dead to the world,” committing the most heinous crime known to soldiers in war-time, that of sleeping on post, and thus putting the whole army in peril.
When one fellow started to crawl inside the tent others followed his example, until only Thad and Bumpus remained. The fat scout had to take a firm grip on himself, when he saw them going to their inviting blankets, buoyed up so temptingly by those armfuls of soft gray moss; but he proved equal to the test, for he shouldered his gun, and bade Thad station him in his place.
“You’ll have to stay right here, Bumpus,” the other told him. “I know it isn’t the most inviting spot going, for the ground is wet, and you can hardly find a place to stand on; but those things are good for a sentry, because they help keep him awake.”
“Oh! never mind about me, Thad; I’ll prove true blue every time. But where will you hold forth? I ought to know, so I could find you, in case anything suspicious came along.”
So Thad pointed out where he expected to stay, and then went on to warn the other once more:
“Be very careful about using your gun, Bumpus,” he said.
“Oh! I will, sure, Thad,” declared the fat scout, hastily. “I hope now you don’t think I want to have any poor fellow’s blood on my hands, do you? I ain’t half so ferocious as Giraffe, now. You heard what he said about thinking the coon’d get what he deserved, if he came aprowling around here in the night, and somebody filled him chuck full of shot? I don’t look at it that way. Fact is, I’m sorry for the poor wretch; and I’d share my dinner with him, if I had a chance, laugh at me for a silly if you want to.”