"Well," drawled the private, as he stared, "seein' as ye are so darn perticular, I don't care if I do—if it'll make yer meals set on yer stomick any better."
Drawing a long breath and grinning ironically, he lazily pulled his heels together and saluted with a flourish.
"There," he said, with a return to his earlier genial manner. "How's that suit ye, Maje?"
There was a silence which to an impartial observer would have seemed pregnant with dynamite and bloody death. Then the major cleared his throat and coldly said:
"And now, what is your business?"
"Who—me?" asked the private. "Oh, I just sorter dropped in." With a deeper meaning he added: "Sorter dropped in in a friendly way, thinkin' ye was mebbe a different kind of a feller from what ye be."
The inference was clearly marked.
It was now Gates's turn to stare, and stare he unfeignedly did.
"Go back to your quarters," he said at length.
The volunteer became very angry.