“You seem to be a good fellow, and deal in four-syllable words.”
“Now, as you seem to have the best of the joke, I hope you will not detain me any longer. I have a pass in my pocket to prove that I am all right; and, as I am in a great hurry, I must move on.”
“Not till you explain the joke. Eh? What’s this? Where did you get this coat?” said Owen, glancing at the garment which Somers wore.
“This is the key to the joke.”
“The key to it! I am of the opinion that this is my coat,” replied Owen, as he felt of the garment, and turned up the lapel.
“May I be allowed to inquire where you left your coat?” asked Somers, who was quite curious to know how Owen Raynes happened to be alive just at that moment.
“Certainly you may; but first let me ask where you found it.”
“Over by the picket-line beyond the hill,” replied Somers.
“Just so. A young fellow in a Mississippi regiment, encamped next to ours, borrowed it of me last night, when he was detailed for picket-duty. The poor fellow had no coat, and picket-duty is rather steep at night when a man has no clothes. He is a good fellow, in poor health; and I lent him mine.”
“The nights are cool, but the days are hot,” added Somers. “He took it off, and left it on the edge of the woods, where I found it. I didn’t know that it belonged to anybody. I found some papers and a diary in the pocket——”