Col. Ah, major! Whom have we here?
Potts (salutes). Bijah Bright, the standard-bearer of your regiment.(Bijah salutes.)
Col. A grave duty, Mr. Bright. May it not be trodden beneath your feet.
Bijah. Wal, I guess not, colonel: not while this right arm is strong. Jest feel that muscle.
Col. Ha, ha! There's no doubt about that, or your heart either.
Bijah. Only one corner reserved; the rest belongs to my country.
Col. And may I ask who possesses so great a treasure?
Bijah. Why, don't you know? My Polly, your Polly.
Col. My Polly? Ah, I see. You mean Polly Primrose. Mr. Bright, you are to be congratulated; she's a treasure.
Bijah. Don't be in a hurry with good wishes, sir. She's on the wing, and my shot has not yet brought her down.