“Yes, too bad,” said the sergeant, “when the poor lad didn’t even take his own instruments away with him.”
“Didn’t he?” cried Jerry, rather excitedly. “What, not them big and little silver-keyed flutes?”
“No; they’ve got them up in his quarters, keeping them for him. Some of the men are precious wild about what Wilkins said.”
Jerry made no reply, but stood rubbing one side of his nose with his finger.
“Well, why don’t you speak?” said the sergeant.
“Because I was thinking,” said Jerry; “and a man can’t think of one thing and talk of another at the same time.”
“What were you thinking, then?”
“I was thinking it seemed strange for him to leave those flutes behind. They was his own, and he set a deal of store by them.”
“Well, what do you make of it, now you have thought it?”
“What do you?” replied Jerry.