“‘Is dis civerlized war?’ says McKenzie, glarin’ at de pris’ner. ‘You’re worse dan a Dahomey cannib’l—scarin’ de life out’n dis innercent child! Shall we give ’m quarter?’ he says, turnin’ to de odder fellies.
“‘I’ve got a few t’ousand in me clodes,’ I says, like I was considerin’, ‘but I aint got no quarter for him. Away wid ’m!’ I says.
“‘Dammit!’ says Hickey, growin’ excited, ‘can’t youse quit y’r foolin’? I mus’ be gettin’ back to de comp’ny or I’ll be losin’ me stripes!’
“‘Hear de hardened vilyun cursin’ w’en deat’ stares’m in de eye!’ says McKenzie, holdin’ up his hands wid horror. ‘Oh, Hickey, Hickey, you’re in danger o’ losin’ de number o’ y’r mess—den w’y worry ’bout a little t’ing like a pair o’ miser’ble corp’ral’s stripes?’
“‘Boys,’ I says, ‘I pity dis poor mug. S’posin’ we fin’ out how he’s feelin’ ’bout dis time?’ An’ I turned t’wards de pris’ner. ‘Hickey,’ I says, ‘are youse ever goin’ to preside over anodder blanket-tossin’ convention—I mean, one wid me in it?’ An’ he swore dat he hones’ wouldn’t.
“‘Higky,’ asks Schultz, ‘vill you dot pecos off dis affair dere shall no hart veelin’ pe?’ An’ Hickey said dat dere shouldn’t.
“‘Hickey,’ says McKenzie, w’en it come his turn at de bat, ‘if you’re lucky ’nough to come out alive at de end o’ dis awful day o’ strife will youse remember dat odder people ’sides y’rself has t’roats—w’ich needs occasional wettin’?’ An’ Hickey give his word dat he’d set ’em up for de crowd w’en we got back to town.
“‘Dis all bein’ so,’ says Jonesey, ‘an’ no objection bein’ made, we’ll spare y’r wort’less life. But we’re under oat’ to do our full duty by de Commonwealt’ for a term o’ t’ree years, an’ so we can’t let yer go. Private McKenzie on de right, Private Schultz on de lef’, de pris’ner betwixt youse—fall in!’ says he. An’ dey fell in, an’ started back t’wards de comp’ny, wid Hickey a-kickin’ himself for a t’underin’ jackuss, an’ me a-follerin’, t’umpin’ meself wid joy.
“Well, we comes back to de comp’ny, an’ I makes a break for de head o’ de percession—’cause ’twas my entertainment, y’ know—an’ w’en de fellies sees us marchin’ up, dey sets up a yell, for dey all knows Hickey. An’ w’en we gets to de cap’n I salutes an’ says, ‘Cap’n, here’s a spy,’ I says. ‘W’at’ll we do wid’m?’
“Cap’n Stearns, he looked Hickey all over, an’ seen de dirt on’m, an’ says, ‘Whew! he looks like he’d be’n huntin’ for trouble an’ foun’ it! Are dey diggin’ a mine under us, or w’at? Take’m away,’ he says, ‘an’ play de hose on’m an’ don’t bodder me wid’m.’ An’ he had to laff.