Shoemaker, of Company D, now also an instructor in rifle practise and a newly appointed corporal in the marksmen's platoon, was talking to several men outside of barracks when Gaul joined them.
"We-all," announced the Kentuckian, "are a-goin' tu have a leetle rifle match atween two picked teams, an' hit's goin' tu be a corker! Me an' Whitcomb's captins of theh two bunches, an' jedgin' from theh way some o' theh fellers is shootin' lately, it'll be a sight tu make yer eyes watter."
"If your eyes watered much there wouldn't be anything left of you, you big simp!" snapped Gaul. "You don't think you can get a bunch that can shoot with Whitcomb's crew; do you? Won't have a show." Gaul seemed unusually bitter.
"Mebbe not! Mebbe not! Cain't jest tell till they try. Theh's right smart fellers tu pick from."
"Good land, fellow, where did you learn to talk? You murder the language like a butcher sticks hogs. Can't you speak English better?"
"Well, I hain't had no chanct tu go tu school none, er not much, anyway. Sort o' reckon I kin make me understood, though, some, even though I cain't spout like you-all, b'gosh!"
"'You-all! Hain't! Reckon! Chanct!' Saints have mercy! If I had to talk like that I'd commit suicide. When you came here from where you hang up your hat why didn't you bring some brains, or don't they have 'em down there?"
"They has 'em, sure," laughed Jed, "but mebbe they don't try to use 'em none, for mighty few of 'em goes tu jail er Congress. When this heh war is over how'd you-all like tu come down theh in our mountings an' learn we-uns some o' your blame smart orneryness?"
This raised a laugh at Gaul and it very naturally made that fellow lose his temper. And with him to get angry was to want to fight, or threaten it, getting away with the bluff, if possible.