I made it five. What do you say, Jim?"
"Five she was."
"That settles it. Jim kin always count up to five an' never make a
mistake. What you fellers goin' to do in the mornin'?"
"I don't know."
"Pope ain't asked you yet what to do. Well, Bobby Lee and Old Stonewall
ain't been lookin' for me either to get my advice, but, Yank, you fellers
do just what I tell you."
"What's that?"
"Pack up your clothes before daylight, say good-bye, and go back to
Washington. You needn't think you kin ever lick Marse Bobby an'
Stonewall Jackson."
"But what if we do think it? We've got a big army back there yet,
and more are always coming to us. We'll beat you yet."
"There seems to be a pow'ful wide difference in our opinions, an' I can't
persuade you an' you can't persuade me. We'll just let the question rip.
I'm glad, after all, Yank, it's so dark. I don't want to see ten
thousand dead men stretched out in rows."
"We're going to get a wettin'," said the man to Jim. "The air's already
damp on my face. Thar, do you hear that thunder growlin' in the
southwest? Tremenjously like cannon far away, but it's thunder all the
same.
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