Potts. Well, give us a tune.
Pete (salutes). Deed, massa, dis yer belongs to de colonel; 'specs he wouldn't like to hab me gib yer dat.
Potts. Yes, he will; I can answer for that.
Pete. All right, massa. I'll play de bes I know.
Potts. Good, and here's a quarter for inspiration.
(Pete salutes, takes coin, and seats himself on floor C. Potts sits on camp-stool; Pete plays and sings a negro melody; Soldiers appear and group at back, listening.)
Potts. Bravo, bravo! (Soldiers applaud, then gradually disperse.) I tell you what, Bijah, music and a song like that cheer a man up. If we have many more days of dead calm and quiet, I shall be tempted to desert the cause and soothe my troubled spirit with the society of some fair maiden.
Bijah (turns Pete around; laughs at coat). You're a great one, you are. Where did you get that coat?
Pete. Massa Colonel gib me dat; he's heaps good to me, he is. I takes care ob eberyting, and I's his guard.
Bijah. His what? Guard? Oh, ho! You mean body-guard. (Whistles; aside.) Wal, I vum, here's an idea. We'll work him. (To Pete.) Go back to your work, Pete. (Pete goes into tent.) Major, I have an idea. (Potts comes down front; Bijah takes his arm.)