For some time afterward he would every now and then break into a chuckle of amused content and exclaim, "Them's right smart chillern." And at Christmas, when the hogs were killed, this was the opinion of the whole plantation.
CHAPTER XII.
The gibes of Lucy Ann, and the occasional little thrusts of Hugh about the "deserter business," continued and kept the boys stirred up. At length they could stand it no longer. It was decided between them that they must retrieve their reputations by capturing a real deserter and turning him over to the conscript-officer whose office was at the depot.
Accordingly, one Saturday they started out on an expedition, the object of which was to capture a deserter though they should die in the attempt.
The conscript-guard had been unusually active lately, and it was said that several deserters had been caught.
The boys turned in at their old road, and made their way into Holetown. Their guns were loaded with large slugs, and they felt the ardor of battle thrill them as they marched along down the narrow roadway. They were trudging on when they were hailed by name from behind. Turning, they saw their friend Tim Mills, coming along at the same slouching gait in which he always walked. His old single-barrel gun was thrown across his arm, and he looked a little rustier than on the day he had shared their lunch. The boys held a little whispered conversation, and decided on a treaty of friendship.
"Good-mornin'," he said, on coming up to them. "How's your ma?"
"Good-morning. She's right well."
"What y' all doin'? Huntin' d'serters agin?" he asked.