"What makes ye think so?"
"Because your hair vos full of id."
"What's that? what's that?" cried Ephraim, in astonishment, quickly removing his cap and clawing through his hair with his fingers. "Hayseed in my hair? Darned if I believe it!"
The boys roared, and the face of the country lad grew crimson.
"You're havin' a gol derned pile of fun with me," he said, sheepishly. "Wal, sail right in an' have it. I kin stand it."
"Begobs! it's nivver a bit roight at all, at all," said a boy with a rich Irish brogue, and Barney Mulloy pushed his Dutch friend aside. "Av it's a soldier yure goin' to be, me b'y, it's instructions in military tictacks you nade. Now, sur, in case ye wur on guarrud at noight, an' should foind yure post invaded by the simultaneous appearance av the commandant an' corporal av th' guarrud on th' roight, the gineral-in-chafe an' staff on th' left, an' a rigimint av red-headed girrulls behindt yez, all wearin' bloomers an' arrumed to th' tathe wid corrun-brooms an' feather-dusthers, which would yez advance firrust wid th' countysoign?"
This sort of a question, put to a plebe with all sorts of twists and variations, was time-honored at Fardale, whither it had come from West Point, where plebes are puzzled with some variation of it year after year.
The country boy grinned a bit, and, still with his little fingers touching the seams of his trousers and the palms of his hands turned to the front, lifted his left foot and scratched his right shin with his heel, till a sharp rap on the ankle brought the foot down to the ground again, and caused him to brace up stiffly, drawling:
"Gol darned if I wouldn't be so scat I'd surrender on ther spot ter ther red-headed gals in bloomers."
These words do not look very humorous in print, but they sounded comical as they came from the mouth of that raw countryman, and the crowd roared with laughter again.