“Thought that over, sir?”
Fred started, and turned to find that Samson had followed him and approached over the soft moist ground beneath the trees unheard.
“Thought that over?” faltered the young officer.
“Yes, sir. Here’s a splendid place for it just below among the big trees. Nice bit of open turf, quite soft for when you tumble down; and it would just please the men to see my young dandy cockerel’s comb cut after what he did for you.”
“Samson, you are talking nonsense. After serving so long in the army, you ought to know something of what an officer’s duties are.”
“No, sir; I shall never learn nothing about dooties. I can fight, because it comes nat’ral to a man, and I’m obliged to; but I shall never make a good soldier.”
“You don’t know, then, what you are saying.”
“Oh yes, I do, sir; and I know what the men are saying; and if you won’t fight, it must be me, for there’s bound to be a rumpus if they go on saying you behaved as if you had a white feather in your cap.”
“Who dared to say that?”
“Several of ’em, sir; and I wouldn’t hit out, because I thought you would think better of it and fight.”