Part 8 (1/2)
He stepped aside in the gra.s.s to let him pa.s.s. But the man stopped and gazed at the fish.
”My, my, Sonny, but you've got a fine string there!” he exclaimed.
”Pretty good for one day,” the Boy proudly answered.
”An' just ter think I ain't had nothin' ter eat in 'most two days.”
”Don't you live nowhere?” the youngster asked in surprise.
”I used ter have a home afore the war, but my folks thought I wuz dead an' moved away. I'm tryin' ter find 'em. Hit's a hard job with a Britisher's bullet still a-pinchin' me in the leg.”
”Did you fight with General Was.h.i.+ngton?”
”Lordy, no, I ain't that old, ef I do look like a scarecrow. No, I fit under Old Hickory at New Orleans. I tell ye, Sonny, them Britishers burnt out Was.h.i.+ngton fur us but we give 'em a taste o' fire at New Orleans they ain't goin' ter fergit.”
”Did we lick 'em good?”
”Boy, ye ain't never heard tell er sich a scrimmage--we thrashed 'em till they warn't no fight in 'em, an' they scrambled back aboard them s.h.i.+ps an' skeddaddled home. Britishers can't fight nohow. We've licked 'em twice an' we kin lick 'em agin. But the old soldier that does the fightin'--everybody fergits him!”
The Boy looked longingly at his string of fish for a moment with the pride of his heart, and then held up his treasure.
”You can have my fish if ye want 'em; they'll make you a nice supper.”
The old soldier stroked the tangled hair and took his string of fish.
”You're a fine boy! I won't fergit you, Sonny!”
The words comforted him until he neared the house. And then a sense of bitter loss welled up in spite of all.
”Did I do right, Ma?” he asked wistfully.
She placed her hand on his forehead:
”Yes--I'm proud of you. I know what that gift cost a boy's heart. It was big because it was all you had and the pride of your soul was in it.”
The sense of loss was gone and he was rich and happy again.
When the supper was over and they sat before the flickering firelight he asked her a question over which his mind had puzzled since he left the old soldier.
”Why is it,” he said thoughtfully, ”British soldiers can't fight?”
The mother smiled:
”Who said they couldn't fight?”
”The old soldier I gave my fish to. He said we just made hash out o'
them. We've licked 'em twice and we can do it again!”
The last sentence he didn't quote. He gave it as a personal opinion based on established facts.
”We didn't win because the British couldn't fight,” the mother gravely responded.