Raoul felt a chill. Why the hell was Greenglove grinning like that?
"Damn you, you can't just walk off, Eli! You took an oath. You signed up for another thirty days when your enlistment was up in May. I can have you shot for desertion."
"Go ahead. Shoot me yourself."
Eli slowly raised the tent flap and stood there a moment, turning to give Raoul one last, strange, unmirthful smile. Raoul eyed the pistol at Eli's belt. Most likely all primed and loaded. His own pistol, unloaded, was hanging from a tent pole behind him.
If I went for my pistol, that'd give him an excuse to put a ball in me. And he'd do it before I could even get a damned cap in place.
Eli gave Raoul one final nod, as if he knew what Raoul had been thinking, and let the tent flap fall behind him.
Raoul reached for the jug. It felt light in his hand, and he shook it. Empty.
Everything. Empty, empty, empty!
He got up, weaving slightly, and walked to the opening of the tent.
"Armand!" he shouted.