Bland, who had just tossed his overcoat
across to them, turned abruptly upon Dan, and demanded warmly "what had
become of his case of razors?"
"Where are we going?" was Dan's response, as he knelt down to roll up his
oilcloth and blanket. "By Jove, it looks as if we'd gobble up Patterson for
breakfast!"
"I say, where's my case of razors?" inquired Bland, with irritation. "They
were lying here a moment ago, and now they're gone. Dandy, have you got my
razors?"
"Look here, Beau, what are you going to leave behind?" asked Kemper over
Bland's shoulder.
"Leave behind? Why, dull care," rejoined Dan gayly. "By the way, Pinetop,
why don't you save your appetite for Patterson's dainties?"
Pinetop, who was leisurely eating his breakfast of "hardtack" and bacon,
took a long draught from his tin cup, and replied, as he wiped his mouth on
his shirt sleeve, that he "reckoned thar wouldn't be any trouble about
finding room for them, too." The general gayety was reflected in his face;
he laughed as he bit deeply into his half-cooked bacon.
Dan stood up and nervously strapped on his knapsack; then he swung his
canteen over his shoulder and carefully tightened his belt. His face was
flushed, and when he spoke his voice quivered with emotion. It seemed to
him that the delay of every instant was a reckless waste of time, and he
trembled at the thought that the enemy might be preparing to fall upon them
unawares; that while the camp was swarming like an ant's nest, Patterson
and his men might be making good use of the fleeting moments.
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