“War!” The man looked blankly at him. “Who's fightin'?”
“Why, haven't you heard? It's been going on for a month. We heard only three days ago as we were going further up the country. It knocked our plans endways, and here we are chasing ourselves to get out.”
“War!” said the man again. “Who's fightin'? Uncle Sam after them Mexicans?”
“No. Mexicans, hell!” exclaimed Duff. “Germany and Britain.”
“Britain!” The slouching shoulders lost their droop. “Britain!” he said, straightening himself up. “What's she been doin' to Germany?”
“What's Germany been doing to her, and to Belgium, and to Servia, and to France?” answered Duff, in a wrathful voice. “She's been raising hell all around. You haven't seen the papers, eh? I have them all here.”
The stranger seemed dazed by the news. He made no reply, but getting out his frying-pan and tea-pail, his only utensils, he set about preparing his evening meal.
“I say,” said Duff, “won't you eat with us? We're just about ready. We'll be glad to have you.”
The man hesitated a perceptible moment. In the wilds men do not always accept invitations to eat. Food is sometimes worth more than its weight in gold.
“I guess I will, if you've lots of stuff,” he said at length.