With a cordial grasp of the hand—for, on finding we had so frankly accepted the compulsory situation, the officer unbent himself considerably—I bade him "Farewell," and we silently, for some time, rode along the course of the stream. The first words I heard subsequently, were some ten minutes after this. They came from the lips of Brighton Bill.
"Huncle Sam his nothing but a blasted hidiot."
Possibly, I might have been valuing some of his servants at much the same weight, but I was too good an American to stand such an expression of opinion from a Britisher. Turning in my saddle, I roared out:
"None of that. It's high treason. I'll be hanged if I haven't half a mind to ride after the blue-coats, and hand you over to them."
When I said this, there was a general laugh, and the whole of us recovered, in some measure, our good humor.
After continuing about twenty miles along the road the soldiers had just traversed, we encamped about two o'clock in the afternoon, turning our horses out to graze, as there was good pasture in the neighborhood. Portion of the boys commenced cooking. Butch', having a somewhat more dainty tooth in his head on this occasion than usual, felt it crave for fresh meat, and said to me:
"'Spose I go out, and kill yer something to eat."
"All right," was my answer. "You may find a Jack or two," meaning a Jack rabbit, "down the valley. I'll go up the cañon, and see whether I can't find some grouse."
Saying this, I had pointed to a small cañon on one side, stretching irregularly from the vicinity of our camping ground. At the same instant, Brighton Bill, who had been stretched on the cool turf with his eyes closed, leapt to his feet.
"You're hawful smart, hain't you, Mose? Hi'll 'ave some hof that fun myself. If hi don't, blow me."