‘Won’t he?’ laughed Ephraim back. ‘Ye may resk your last dime he won’t make no small thing of it. My! I wish we could be thar ter hear him.’
‘Oh, thank you,’ said Lucius hilariously. ‘I’ve had enough of him for one day. I shall be quite content to read his speech in the papers.’
‘Ho! ho! ho!’ guffawed Ephraim. ‘Ain’t ye jest ticklish, Luce!’
They were both so overjoyed at their escape from the double danger of the morning that they had no room left for further apprehension. But presently Ephraim was recalled to a sense of the gravity of the situation by the distant notes of a bugle.
‘Hear thet!’ he exclaimed. ‘Thet tells ye. Say, Luce, it won’t do fer us to set still hyar. Don’t ye know this kentry’s full er Yanks. It’s bound ter be. We must try and make our way ter old Stonewall’s lines.’
‘Where are they, I wonder,’ said Lucius.
‘I wish I knew. Fact is, I’d no idee we could hev come so fer. I thort we must be close home.’ He called it hum.
‘So did I,’ agreed Lucius. ‘Old Blue Bag, as you call that horrible balloon, must have travelled far and fast.’
‘I wish we war in her now,’ said Ephraim disconsolately.
‘Oh! no, no, no,’ exclaimed Lucius vehemently. ‘I’d rather be hanged a hundred times than go through that horrible experience again.’