XVIII
THE BAPTISM OF FIRE
After the morning sun commenced to tickle the back of his neck, Eugene Aronson, the giant of the 128th of the Grays, stretched his limbs as healthily as a cub bear.
"No war yet!" he exclaimed, rubbing his eyes.
"Oh, we'd have called you if there were!" said the manufacturer's son, trying to make a joke, which was hard work with his clothes dew-soaked after a sleepless night in the open.
"Wouldn't want you to miss it after coming so far," added the laborer's son, aiming to show that he, too, was in a light-hearted mood.
"And how did you sleep?" asked Eugene, cheerily, of his neighbors.
"Fine!"
"First rate!"