"Hush! You are a simpleton, Corny!" exclaimed one of the men, as he came up to the palisades of the fence. "Didn't I tell you not to call me by name?"
"I didn't call you by name," replied Corny, smartly.
"You called me major, and that is about the same thing," added the speaker on the other side of the fence.
"The woods are full of majors now, both in the North and the South, and no one knows you especially by that name. But I will remember in future, Mr. Mulgate," replied Corny.
"That sounds better, Neal. If we lose the game it will be by your blundering," continued the major, or Mulgate, as he preferred to be called on the present occasion.
"I suppose you have no talent for blundering, Mulgate; and that is the reason why you happen to be here at the present moment," retorted Corny, not at all pleased with the speech of the other.
"None of your impudence, Neal!" said Mulgate, sharply.
"If you lose the game, you say that it will be by my blundering, Mulgate," continued Corny. "That makes it seem as though I was to bear the responsibility of a failure; and I don't like the looks of things. If I am to be responsible for a failure, I ought to have something to say about the manner of conducting the enterprise."
"Shut up, Neal! We have no time to talk nonsense of that sort. I am to conduct the enterprise, and you are to obey my orders. That is the whole of it," replied Mulgate, impatient at the position taken by the young man. "You are still under my command, and you will obey me or take the consequences. Now to business: what have you learned?"
"Nothing at all," answered Corny, rather sullenly.