“All right.” The soldier saluted and walked off leaving Jeanne a prey to conflicting emotions.
In a few moments the flap of the tent was pushed aside, and the slight figure of a girl about Jeanne’s own age emerged from it.
“You are lost?” she asked advancing toward Jeanne and speaking quickly. “And hungry, I think Johnson said. Come, we’ll have something to eat, and then go to bed. Are you tired?”
Jeanne nodded, unable to speak.
“Sit here by the fire while I fix things. Jim,” to one of the men, “this girl is hungry. Will you help me get something for her to eat?”
“’Course I will, Miss Bob.” The man sprang to his feet and walked briskly away disappearing into what Jeanne afterward learned was the commissary department.
“We’ll have something in a jiffy,” remarked the girl encouragingly, beginning to poke up the fire.
“See here, Miss Bob, let me do that,” and another of the men ran to her side. “I reckon Jim and me can fix things. ’Tain’t no work for you.”
Soon cold chicken, bread, and hot coffee were placed before the hungry girl and she ate ravenously.
“I didn’t know that soldiers had chickens to eat,” she remarked with a sigh of satisfaction as she finished the last morsel.