Si bolted out, followed by the rest. They saw Shorty marching up and down as a sentinel sternly military, and holding his Springfield as rigidly correct as if in front of the Colonel's quarters.
"What's the matter with you, Shorty? Why don't you come in to supper?" called out Si. "It's a mighty good square meal. Come on in."
"Can't do it. Don't want no supper. Ain't hungry. Got business out here," answered Shorty, who had gotten one of his rare fits of considering himself a martyr.
"Nonsense," said Si. "Put your gun in the stack and come in. It's a bully supper. Best we've had for a year."
"Well, eat it, then," answered Shorty crustily. "I've got something more important to think of than good suppers."
"O, rats! It's as safe in there as out here. Set your gun down and come on in."
"This gun shall not leave my side till we're home," said Shorty in a tone that would have become the Roman sentinel at Pompeii.
"O, I forgot," said Si. "Well, bring it in with you."
"Can't do it. Strictly agin orders to take any guns inside. But leave me alone. Go back and finish your gorge. I kin manage to hold out somehow," answered Shorty in a tone of deep resignation that made Si want to box his ears.
"That's too bad. But I'll tell you what we can do. I've had a purty good feed already enough to last me to Looeyville. Let me take your gun. I'll carry it while you go in and fill up. We hain't much time left."