‘Well, if there is a war,’ proclaimed Lucius, ‘I am going to join in. So there.’
‘You!’ exclaimed Ephraim in unaffected astonishment. ‘Why, Luce, they wouldn’t have ye. Ye’re too young.’
‘What of that?’ retorted Lucius, flushing. ‘I am sixteen. I can carry a gun. What more do they want?’
‘A heap, I reckon,’ said Ephraim, eyeing him along the gun-stock he was planing. ‘But no matter for that, Luce. Yer par would never let ye go.’
‘Maybe then I’d go without asking him,’ muttered Lucius rebelliously.
Ephraim laid down the gun-stock and approached him. ‘See hyar, Luce,’ he said anxiously, ‘ye ain’t got no idees in yer head, hev ye?’
Lucius burst out laughing. ‘Well, you have a way of putting things,’ he cried. ‘I believe I have just one, and that is, I am going to be a soldier.’
Ephraim considered a moment. ‘Waal,’ he said at last, ‘ef thet’s so, I believe I’ll hev to volunteer ter look after ye.’
Lucius roared afresh at this. ‘A pretty soldier you would make, Grizzly,’ he shouted. ‘I fancy I see you ambling along with a gun over your shoulder. Why, I believe you’d be scared to death the moment you let it off.’
‘Maybe I would,’ admitted Ephraim candidly. ‘I ’low I han’t been used to shootin’. But anyway, Luce, whar ye kin lead, I reckon I’ll do my best ter foller.’