“I don’t think it would have been as cowardly to call for assistance as to drop down there and smother to death,” said the sergeant.
“I thought of the emperor,” said Eugene. “‘Why do you duck your head?’ he once asked a soldier who bent to avoid a round shot. ‘If your fate is not there you might as well stand up straight. If it is there, it will find you though you bury yourself one hundred feet in the earth.’”
“All very fine,” said the sergeant; “but at the same time, Napoleon wasn’t the man to stick in a mud-hole while he had a good voice in his body that would help him out. Come, boy, we had better make our way home if you feel up to it, and get rid of these clothes before the mud dries on us.”
“And it’s home we’ll have to be going too,” said Bridget in a disapproving voice. She had not been able to keep her warm-hearted little charge from embracing her muddy playmate, and Virgie’s red cloak was in consequence disfigured by a number of dark streaks.
“I wish to hug the good pussy,” said Virgie, drawing back as she caught sight of King Boozy, who sat on the bridge above, watching them.
The sergeant laughed. “Boozy hates dirt and disorder. He did his share of the work, then retired to watch us. Was he with you, boy, when your cap blew off?”
“Yes,” said Eugene; “he was following me as I walked to and fro on the path.”
“And when he saw you were stuck, he came for me,” said the sergeant. “He is the most knowing cat I ever saw. Hello, here’s a cart coming just in good time to give us a lift. You look fagged out, Eugene. Give me your hand; now jump in.”
“Good-by, dear Eugene,” called Virgie. “If you don’t play in the naughty mud any more, Virgie won’t frow stones at your remperor;” and she threw kisses to him until he was out of sight.
“The missis will be astonished to see us,” said the sergeant, as they jogged along in the cart, “but she’ll have us cleaned up in no time. Boy,” and he looked slyly at Eugene, “you didn’t like cats much when you came to us. Would you mind telling me your private opinion of them now?”