‘I would and willin’,’ answered Ephraim seriously, ‘ef it would stick on.—Hi! I’ve got a notion. Hold up a minnit, Luce. Ye mustn’t mind ef I spoil yer beauty a bit.’
He grubbed up a handful of loose soil as he spoke, and catching hold of the astonished Lucius, rubbed it well into his face and neck.
‘What’s that for?‘cried Lucius indignantly, starting back.
‘Reckon thet’s taken some er the bloom off’n ye,’ grinned Ephraim. ‘Hold on! I han’t finished with ye yet. Plague take it, I wish I hadn’t lost my knife. By time! hyar’s one in the corner er this yer coat pocket. What a good thing! I never felt it before. Now, lend us yer handkercher.’
‘Why,’ said Lucius, handing him the required article, ‘whatever are you going to do?’
‘I’ll show ye afore ye kin turn round,’ replied the Grizzly, and opening the clasp-knife, deliberately cut his finger.
‘Grizzly!’ cried Lucius. ‘Are you gone mad?’
‘Not me,’ retorted Ephraim coolly. ‘Never felt more level-headed in all my life, thank ye. See thet now.’
He let the blood from his finger drip upon Luce’s handkerchief until the latter was thoroughly spotted with the bright red stains.
‘Now then, up she goes,’ he cried; and plucking off Luce’s cap, with a deft turn he bound the blood-soaked handkerchief about the boy’s brow. ‘Thar,’ he chuckled, as he replaced the cap, and stepped backwards to survey his handiwork. ‘Ye’ll do now, I should say. Why, don’t ye know, thet puts three or four years onter ye at once. Not ter speak er it givin’ ye a look ez ef ye’d come through some tar’ble hard fightin’. We kin move along now ’thout worryin’ ourselves, Luce, fer thar ain’t a Yank ez is likely ter stop us, ’ceptin’, ef course, ef we’re seen tryin’ ter pass the pickets.’