‘I’m obleeged ter ye,’ said Ephraim more heartily. ‘I hadn’t looked fer so much kindness from a Yank.’
‘Ah, we’re not so black as we’re painted down South,’ laughed the corporal. ‘And we’re all Americans, if it comes to the pinch, and don’t you forget it.’
He nodded kindly and went out, leaving Ephraim alone with his reflections.
They were not pleasant, as may well be imagined. The lad was brave, but it takes a considerable supply of somewhat unusual fortitude to enable one to wait through the dark watches of the night, looking forward to the death which is to come with the dawn, and strive as he would, Ephraim found it hard to put the dismal prospect from him.
‘I wish they’d hung me out er hand,’ he said to himself. ‘It would hev been over by now. It’s the thinkin’ what’s ter come thet makes me sick.’ He rose and paced backwards and forwards in his narrow prison. ‘God be thanked, Luce warn’t with me,’ ran his thoughts. ‘Ef he’s had any luck, he’ll be safe in our lines by now. But I wish I knew. I wish I knew. Luce’ll be sorry when he comes ter hear er this. We’ve always been sech friends. Thar’s on’y him and Aunty Chris. Luce’ll take keer on her; I bet he will. I’d like ter see him once more before I die; but I wouldn’t hev him hyar fer thet. By time! no. I wonder will it hurt. I dunno, but I’d ruther they’d shoot me; but I s’pose I ain’t good enuff fer thet. Waal, I reckon it won’t take long either way. Funny, ain’t it, ter hev ter die? I reckon I orter be thinkin’ about heaven, ‘stead er which I’m hankerin’ a good deal after this old earth. Anyway, I’ll try and fix my thorts above, ez the minister said last Sabbath. Maybe it’ll do me good and make me brave; but I reckon it’s none too easy.’
He knelt down upon the ground and covered his eyes with his hand, as if with the sight of earth he would shut out all thoughts of it. Then from his simple heart there welled a passionate prayer to God, not for his own safety, for he considered that as a thing past praying for, but that he might be able to look Death bravely in the face, and meet him as a man should do—that God would take care of Aunty Chris, and bless and keep Luce from harm—‘Let him git home! Let him git thar!‘—and he was done.
He rose to his feet, refreshed in spirit and steadier in his nerves. Hope seemed to have returned to him, and there was something like a smile upon his lips as he stowed away the biscuit which the corporal had given him in his pockets.
‘Ye never know when they might come in handy,’ he muttered.—‘Hello! What do ye want?’
For the sentry had put his head through the opening of the tent, obscuring the faint light that entered there.
‘‘St!’ whispered the sentry. ‘Don’t make a noise. By time! Grizzly, I’m sorry ter see ye fixed up like this.’