“Why, what’s the matter with you? I shall begin to think pretty soon that you are a Yank yourself. Of course you ought to have fired into the crowd and made an example of somebody. What’s one Yank more or less, anyway? I believe in shooting everyone who comes down here.”
“Why didn’t that man in the next box shoot?” inquired Marcy. “He had the same chance I had, and is as much to blame because that Yank made a dash to the dead-line and got the cup.”
“Not much he aint. The thing happened directly in front of your post, it was your duty to kill that man, you disobeyed orders by not doing it, and of course I shall have to report you.”
“If I get into trouble by it I shall shoot at the next man who comes within twenty feet of the dead-line,” said Marcy.
“You’ll be sorry you didn’t make that resolution long ago,” replied the corporal, as he backed down the ladder. He went into Bowen’s box to hear what he had to say about it, and then went back to headquarters; and two hours later the relief came around.
“If I had been in your box I would have been on my way home by this time to-morrow,” said the Home Guard, as he and Marcy and Bowen fell into their places in the rear of the line. “You’ll never have another chance like that to earn a furlough. Why didn’t you shoot that there Yank?”
“Why didn’t you?” retorted Marcy. “You had as good a show as I.”
“Not much, I didn’t. He was closter to you nor he was to me, and besides I didn’t have time.”
“Neither did I. I never could hit a moving object with a single bullet.”
“You could have showed your good will if you had been a mind to. That’s what I think, and less’n the old man has changed mightily sense I jined his comp’ny, it’s what he’ll think about it, too.”