His eyes, glancing aside, fell upon Jimmie, and recognized him. To the beck of the general’s finger Jimmie stepped forward and stood at attention.
“This is your boy, is he, Felmer?” The general seemed to remember everything.
“Yessir, that’s what I call him.”
“He’s wearing rather more clothes than when I first met him,” commented the general drily. “What are you going to make of him?”
“Wall, he’s ondecided ’twixt scout an’ packer,” drawled Joe. “He’s a leetle small yet, but he’s growin’.”
“Yes, an’ he’ll have plenty time to grow while we’re all standin’ ’round waitin’ on the Government’s Arizony pets to come in to their feed canvas when they’re called!” grumbled old Jack. “He’s liable to die of old age, if he ain’t sculped fust.”
“Tut, tut!” sharply reproved the general. “General Howard’s doing good work. He’s the right man. But this is not saying that there won’t be use for the army. As for you, my boy,” he continued, to Jimmie, “keep on learning to the best of your ability, so that you’ll be ready for whatever comes.”
“Yes, sir,” promised Jimmie.