“You may trust me.”
“Bah!” cried the man in an ill-used tone, and snatching back his firelock, “that’s done it.”
“What is the matter?” I said, wonderingly.
“You said you may trust me.”
“Yes; I did.”
“That did it. It’s just what I said to the colonel when he asked me if I could keep on sentry without going to sleep.”
“But you would not go to sleep without leaving some one else to watch.”
“No,” he said, sternly, “and I won’t skulk. I’ve been digging and planting so long that I’ve forgotten my soldiering. No, sir, a man who goes to sleep at his post when facing the enemy ought to be shot, and,” he added with emphasis, “he deserves it.”
“Here um come, Mass’ George,” whispered Pomp just at that moment.
“What—to relieve guard?” I said, quickly, as I thought of the sentry’s mistake.