I felt a lump rise in my throat. The eagle was asking a favor of me!
I did not get a chance, and did not much care to tell, how little I really deserved all that my colonel said; and how scared I had been before the fight. But I thought of a saying of mother’s: “How much praise is often given to those who do not deserve it.” I determined, however, to try to live up to the reputation that chance had given me.
Afterwards, telling Jot about the Colonel’s compliments, I said: “As Bill Jenkins used to say, ‘I felt as mean as pussley.’”
“That’s just like you!” said Jot. “Don’t you remember about your leaving some bunches of grass unmowed where there were bumblebees, and getting Bill Jenkins to get into them by telling him that you had left them as fancy spots? Bill said, ‘Confound your fancy spots!’ and pitched into them, and got all stung up. And you lay awake that night laughing and repenting by turns? The difference between you and some other cowards is that you are mostly scared before a fight and they are scared when in a fight.”
“What is the reason,” I said, “that I am so scared before a fight?”
“A vivid imagination,” replied Jot; “and borrowing troubles before they come.”
CHAPTER XI
A SIX WEEKS’ HIKE THROUGH FRANCE
Lists of men were being made. Officers were hurrying with papers.
An order had come. There was cleaning of rifles and machine-guns, washing of clothes, inspection, and making up of packs preparatory to a march.