Part 15 (2/2)

Even Ted hasn't anything to stay for now.”

”I wanted so much to try to wake up some of the slackers and make them see,” said Ted, ”but I'm afraid I can't do anything now. I give up,” he concluded, a big tear rolling down one cheek.

”Cap'n Ted, honey, don't you worry,” said July, with sympathy. ”You done yo' bes' and dat's all a man kin do. It look' to me sometimes like you was gwine to git Mr. Hardy an' maybe Mr. Peters, but you couldn't 'a'

done nothin' wid dat white trash left yuh in dis swamp. If dey was _dragged_ to de waw dey would des lay down an' let de Germans walk on 'em. I use' to hear a white gen'l'man say, 'you can't mek a silk purse out'n a sow's ear,' an' I putty nigh busted my head tryin' to understan'

what he meant, but I knows now he was talkin' 'bout des sich trash as dat. Don't you worry, Cap'n Ted; de President an' de gov'ment'll tek care o' dat waw.”

”We haven't any time to waste,” spoke up Hubert impatiently, proposing that they at once decide on a plan and begin to get ready. He asked the negro if they could run away that very day.

July replied promptly that it wouldn't do to attempt to escape in the day time because since Mr. Hardy's departure the camp had been continually under observation from morning till evening. He said the break for freedom would have to be made at night ”when dey ain't expectin'.” With this much settled, they went on to discuss routes, and decided that a game of hide-and-seek led by Billy should be the form of camouflage masking their start on their road that night after supper.

The boys were still discussing plans when the majority of the slackers came into camp for dinner, and, as the new man, Mitch' Jenkins, pa.s.sed near where they sat, Ted suddenly got upon his feet and asked eagerly for news from the Russian front.

”Now just look at him,” muttered Hubert impatiently. ”Will I ever get him away from this place?”

”Oh, Mr. Jenkins,” began Ted, in his politest manner, just as if nothing disagreeable had occurred, ”I've been wanting to ask you if, before you came in, you heard whether Germany and Russia had made peace or not.”

”I didn't hear no talk of it,” said Jenkins, eying the boy curiously.

”They had been about to make peace,” said Ted, ”but just before I came in here they were on the point of going to war again. It was reported that the Russians had threatened to kill 1,500,000 German prisoners of war if the Kaiser marched his army on Petrograd. That would have been perfectly awful, but it's just the kind of thing the Germans themselves did in Belgium and France. I hope they haven't made peace; it's best for us for them to keep on fighting.”

”You take a heap of interest, for just a boy, in that war 'way off yonder,” said Jenkins, his manner not unfriendly.

”Everybody ought to take an interest, for we are in the fight, too, you know,” said Ted, forgetting and becoming argumentative. ”Why, don't you see, if the Germans whip all Europe and get England's fleet, they'll come right over here and attack us, and wherever they land our people will have to stand all the terrible things the Belgians and the French have had to stand.”

”Here you are a-talkin' about that war again!” stormed Sweet Jackson, who had walked up in time to hear a few words.

”Look h-yer, Jackson, I don't see nothin' the matter with this boy,”

said Jenkins, his tone sharp and his look steady. ”Why are you so sot agin him? He jes' asked me if two of them fightin' countries had made peace.”

”Oh, well--if that was all,” said Jackson more quietly, yielding before unexpected belligerence.

”Thank you, Mr. Jenkins,” said Ted politely, and turned away.

”That's a nice, polite kid,” said Jenkins to one of the slackers a few moments later. ”What's all the row about anyhow?”

”But you ain't heard him exhortin' and shamin' us runaways yet.”

”Did he do that? Well, that's a cat of another color. But he sure is a s.p.u.n.ky kid.”

After supper that night, as the slackers told yarns and joked about the camp fire, Billy, who had been craftily stimulated, seemed unusually wide awake and repeated nursery rhymes and ”rigmaroles” by the dozen.

Taking Hubert's hand in his, he touched the fingers one after another, repeating, ”Little man--ring man--long man--lick pot--thumpkin.” Then, tweaking the toes of his own bare feet, he merrily recited: ”This little pig wants some corn; this one says, 'Where you goin' to git it?' This one says, 'In master's barn.' This one says he's goin' to tell. This one says, 'Queak!--queak!--can't git over the door-sill!'”

Touching first Hubert's index finger and then his own as each word was uttered, Billy went on: ”William Ma-trimble-toe; he's a good fisherman; catches hens, puts 'em in pens; some lays eggs, some lays none; wire, briar, limber-lock; sets and sits till twelve o'clock; O-U-T spells 'out'--go!”

Thus was started the camouflage game of hide-and-seek, Ted at once, and July a little later by invitation, joining in the sport. It was a bright moonlight night, and no one seemed sleepy. The slackers stopped telling their yarns and watched the game, the seemingly joyful laughter of the boys and the negro affecting them agreeably. The fun was so contagious that several of the younger slackers, yielding to the fascination of it, joined in the game.

<script>