The girl called Bob laughed merrily, the men joining in heartily.
“We don’t usually,” and Bob controlled her risibles with difficulty, “but you see a whole heap of them walked right into camp, and so of course we ate them.”
“Wasn’t it queer that they should come right into camp?” said serious Jeanne. “I always thought that you had to run after them to catch them.”
Again the girl and the men laughed.
“Of course they didn’t exactly come here,” said Bob comfortably, “but we’ve got the smartest regiment in the whole Confederate army. I verily believe that it could catch and skin a hog without a man leaving the ranks. Oh, they are fine foragers!”
“Forager?” Jeanne looked mystified. “I wonder if Dick is a forager!”
“Who is Dick?”
“Dick is my brother in the army,” said Jeanne proudly.
“Well, if he is a soldier you can depend upon it that he is a forager,” said Bob with decision. “Which side is your brother on?”
“The Union.”