“Well, just wait. I’ve got him now. If I don’t make him bite the dust! Ye gods! When I think of the way he looks at me every time he sees me I could skin him alive!”
“I fancy he’d be rather slippery to skin. I wouldn’t like to try it, Harry!”
“Well, but wait till you see where I’ve got him! He’s in the draft. He goes next week. And they’re sending all those men to our camp! He’ll be a private, of course, and he’ll have to salute me! Won’t that gall him?”
“He won’t do it! I know him, and he won’t do it!”
“I’ll take care that he does it all right! I’ll put myself in his way and make him do it. And if he refuses I’ll report him and get him in the guard house. See? I can, you know. Then I guess he’ll smile out of the other side of his mouth!”
“He won’t likely be in your company.”
“That doesn’t make any difference. I can get him into trouble if he isn’t, but I’ll try to work it that he is if I can. I’ve got ‘pull,’ you know, and I know how to ‘work’ my superiors!” he swaggered.
“That isn’t very good policy,” advised the other, “I’ve heard of men picking off officers they didn’t like when it came to battle.”
“I’ll take good care that he’s in front of me on all such occasions!”
A sudden nudge from his companion made him look up, and there looking sharply down at him, was the returning captain, and behind him walked John Cameron still with that amused smile on his face. It was plain that they had both heard his boast. His face crimsoned and he jerked out a tardy salute, as the two passed on leaving him muttering imprecations under his breath.