“An I wanter say right heah,” remarked Alligator Smith, frankly; “thet it’s all owin’ tuh them sharp eyes o’ yourn we ain’t riddled afore now by the shot er bullets as mout be in this yer gun; ’case I admits as how I never sot out tuh look to’ any sech contraption in ther grass er brush; an’ chances air I’d gone stumblin’ right acrost, so as tuh draw thet trigger, an’ upset theh fat in theh fire, even if I war lucky enuff tuh ’scape gettin’ plugged myself. Arter this I’m agwine tuh larn more ’bout scouts an’ sech. Seems like they knows ther bizness; an’ even a ole swamp hunter like me kin larn somethin’ frum theh same.”
“Hurrah!” said Giraffe; but he knew Allan was standing close beside him, and not feeling like drawing another stiff dig in the ribs as a reproof, he just whispered the one word, while pretending to clap his hands; for these boys were justly proud of their calling, and could never hear words of praise uttered for scout-craft without a personal sense of satisfaction.
“Well, that’s one game failed, anyway!” Bumpus was heard to say, half to himself, as though in imagination he was thus decreasing the perils that he expected were lying in wait along their course.
“They’ll all fall before us, see if they don’t,” Davy Jones went on to say, as though his confidence had grown by leaps and bounds, and had reached a final stage when he saw Thad nip the plot of the enemy so neatly.
“Sometime I’d just like to take the trouble to draw the load he put in that old musket,” Step Hen told Smithy, who was close to his elbow.
“Whatever good would that do you?” asked the other, who could not understand why any one could allow his curiosity to make him so much unnecessary work; for while Smithy had reformed in many ways, he still “shirked” a little, Thad had often noticed, for he had never been shown the delight of doing things.
“Well, don’t you understand that it might give a fellow a certain amount of satisfaction to know what a narrow escape he had?” asked the other. “Suppose now, I was to extract seven bullets, sixteen rusty nails, a couple of marbles, four screws and a few other things I just can’t think of, from that old cannon, wouldn’t the sight of the lot make me gladder than ever that Thad found it out in time; and that we didn’t get that wagon-load of stuff turned in on us, backed by six drams of black powder? Smithy, you ain’t got any idea of being thankful over things. Just however would you be able to keep on talking in that stilted lawyer-like way you’ve got, if a nail had knocked a bunch of teeth out—tell me that, will you?”
“Aw! keep still, there, Step Hen, this ain’t the place for arguments like that. Just wait till we’ve got to the end of the trail, and then some!”
Strange to say it was neither Thad nor Allan who took the trouble to admonish the talkative scout in this fashion, but Giraffe himself. Since he was debarred from giving his opinion by the proximity of Allan and his ready hand, the tall member of the patrol evidently thought that he could at least find some satisfaction by passing the reproof along; since misery likes company.
But all the same, while Step Hen did relapse into silence after being told so plainly that he had no business to air his views, he took especial pains to notice where Thad laid the old rusty musket down in a clump of brush.