“I ain’t a captain; I’m nothing but a private!” growled the other, who seemed to be in very ill-humor.
Nothing but a private! It was not the captain then, after all. He had hoped, and almost believed, it was. He had told his friend all about his experience in a chimney; and it seemed to him quite probable that the valiant hero of Magenta and Solferino had remembered the affair, and attempted to try his own luck in a similar manner. It was not the voice of the captain, nor were there any of his peculiarities of tone or manner. If the other character had only said Balaclava, Alma, or Palestro, it would have been entirely satisfactory in any tone or in any manner.
“What are you doing here?” demanded Somers in the same low voice, with commendable desire to obtain further knowledge of the dark subject beneath him.
“I don’t want nothin’ of you; so yer kin let me alone. If yer don’t let me alone, I’ll be dog derned if I don’t ketch hold of yer legs, and pull yer down chimley.”
“Hush!” said Somers in warning tones. “They will hear you, if you speak so loud.”
The man was a rebel, or at least a Southerner; and it passed our hero’s comprehension to determine what he was doing in such a place.
“Hush yerself!” snarled the disconcerted rebel. “What yer want o’ me? I ain’t done nothin’ to you.”
“I don’t want anything of you; but, if you don’t keep still, I’ll drop a stone on your head,” replied Somers, irritated by the fellow’s stupidity.
“Will yer?”
“Not if you keep still. Don’t you see we are in the same box? I don’t want to be caught, any more than you do.”