It was yet early in the forenoon as they walked on the less-frequented side of the camp. Shorty gave a start, and gasped:
"Jewhilikins, there she is already."
Si looked, and saw Mrs. Bolster striding toward them. Shorty hung back instinctively for an instant, and then braced up and bade her good morning.
She grunted an acknowledgment, and said rather imperiously:
"Y're a-gwine, air yo'?"
"Certainly," answered Shorty.
"And yo'?" she inquired, looking at Si.
"He's a-goin', too," answered Shorty. "Mustn't expect him to talk. He's short on tongue this mornin'. Ketched a bad cold night before last. Settled on his word-mill. Unjinted his clapper. Can't speak a word. Doctor says it will last several days. Not a great affliction. Couldn't 've lost anything o' less account."
"Must've bin an orful cold," said she, taking her pipe from her mouth and eyeing Si suspiciously.
"Never knowed a cold to shut off any one's gab afore. Seems t' me that hit makes people talk more. But these Yankees air different. Whar air yer things? Did yo' bring plenty o' coffee?'