“Not an ounce. Haven’t you any ammunition?”
“No, and haven’t had all through the fight. You see, we left the shop in such a hurry we never thought about powder and ball. As soon as a man on horseback came by shouting that there was a fight on, the old man he grabbed his sledge, and I took this gun that had been left at the shop for repairs, and off we started. I’m not sure that it would shoot if I had ammunition, but I’d like to try. I’ve scared some of them Fee-neens nigh to death with it, but I was always afraid one of them would pull a real gun on me, and then I don’t know just what I’d ‘a’ done.”
Sandy sighed, and added, with the air of a man who saw his mistake, but was somewhat loath to acknowledge it: “Next battle there is you won’t find me in it with a lame gun and no powder. I’d sooner have the old man’s sledge. It don’t miss fire.” His eye brightened as he thought of Macdonald. “Say,” he continued, with a jerk of his head back over his shoulder, “the boss is on the warpath in great style, aint he?”
“He is,” said Yates, “but, for that matter, so are you. You can swear nearly as well as Macdonald himself. When did you take to it?”
“Oh, well, you see,” said Sandy apologetically, “it don’t come as natural to me as chewing, but, then, somebody’s got to swear. The old man’s converted, you know.”
“Ah, hasn’t he backslid yet?”
“No, he hasn’t. I was afraid this scrimmage was going to do for him, but it didn’t; and now I think that if somebody near by does a little cussing,—not that anyone can cuss like the boss,—he’ll pull through. I think he’ll stick this time. You’d ought to have seen him wading into them d—d Fee-neens, swinging his sledge, and singing ‘Onward, Christian soldiers.’ Then, with me to chip in a cuss word now and again when things got hot, he pulled through the day without ripping an oath. I tell you, it was a sight. He bowled ‘em over like nine-pins. You ought to ‘a’ been there.”
“Yes,” said Yates regretfully. “I missed it, all on account of that accursed Stoliker. Well, there’s no use crying over spilled milk, but I’ll tell you one thing, Sandy: although I have no ammunition, I’ll let you know what I have got. I have, in my pocket, one of the best plugs of tobacco that you ever put your teeth into.”
Sandy’s eyes glittered. “Bless you!” was all he could say, as he bit off a corner of the offered plug.
“You see, Sandy, there are compensations in this life, after all; I thought you were out.”