CHAPTER III.
THE BALLOON GOES UP.
Still absorbed in his own thoughts, Lucius followed his friend in silence through the crowded streets until they reached a remote field or piece of waste land at the very outskirts of the town, and here Ephraim halted and spoke once more.
The pomp and circumstance of glorious war had laid hold of poor Grizzly, for his cheeks were still red and his eyes sparkling, while there was something intense in his voice as he said: ‘Air ye sot, Luce? Air ye still sot like ye war?’
‘Set on what?’ asked Lucius, still dreaming.
‘On seeing the fight.’
‘Oh yes,’ answered Lucius; but his expression plainly showed that he had scarcely heard, and certainly not comprehended Grizzly’s remarks.
‘Waal, come over hyar, then,’ said Ephraim, ‘and I’ll show ye what I’ve been fixed onter fer the last five months.’
He moved mysteriously towards an old shed of considerable size that stood in a corner of the field, and with many anxious glances all around unlocked the door. Though it chimed in with his mood, his caution was unnecessary, for not a civilian was in sight. Only in the near distance they could see part of the cordon of sentries pacing up and down with bayonets fixed, and ever and anon a patrol rode swiftly by. Occasionally a bugle blared in the town, and the hum of many voices came faintly to them. Except for these all was quiet, and they were quite alone.
‘Come along, Luce,’ said Ephraim, pulling him through the door, which he carefully shut and locked behind him. ‘Ye won’t know whar ye air, but I’ll tell ye. This is my new workshop. I got it a bargain from Pete Taylor last December after us two had thet talk. I pinned him down not to let on that I had the place, fer I didn’t want ter be followed and worried by the boys. And I been fixin’ things hyar ever sence ye ’lowed ye war so sot.’