The two fellows were sound asleep when we turned out. They were lying in the sun, rolled up and with their faces covered to keep the light away. We didn't pay any attention to them, but had our wet rub and went ahead attending to camp duties. After a while one of them (Walt, it was) turned over, and wriggled, and threw the blanket off his face, and blinked about. He was bleary-eyed and sticky-faced, as if he had slept too hard but not long enough. And I didn't see how he had had enough air to breathe.
But he grinned, and yawned, and said: "You kids get up awful early. What time is it?"
"Six o'clock."
He-haw! And he yawned some more. Then he sat up and let his blanket go and kicked Bat. "Breakfast!" he shouted.
That made Bat grunt and grumble and wriggle; and finally uncover, too. They acted as if their mouths might taste bad, after the pipes.
We hadn't made a big fire, of course; but breakfast was about ready, on the little fire, and Fitz our cook sang out, according to our regulations: "Chuck!"
That was the camp's signal call.
"If you fellows want to eat with us, draw up and help yourselves," invited General Ashley.
"Sure," they answered; and they crawled out of their blankets, and got their pieces of bark, and opened their knives, and without washing their faces or combing their hair they fished into the dishes, for bacon and bread and sorghum and beans.
That was messy; but we wanted to be hospitable, so we didn't say anything.