"
"What do we care 'bout a wettin', Jim? Fur the last few days this young
Yank here an' his comrades have shot at me 'bout a million cannon balls
an' shells, an' more 'n a hundred million rifle bullets. Leastways I
felt as if they was all aimed at me, which is just as bad. After bein'
drenched fur two days with a storm of steel an' lead an' fire, what do
you think I care for a summer shower of rain, just drops of rain?"
"But I don't like to get wet after havin' fit so hard. It's unhealthy,
likely to give me a cold."
"Never min' 'bout ketchin' cold. You're goin' to get wet, shore.
Thunder, but I thought fur a second that was the flash of a hull battery
aimed at me. Fellers, if you wasn't with me I'd be plumb scared,
prowlin' 'roun' here in a big storm on the biggest graveyard in the
world. Keep close, Yank, we don't want to lose you in the dark."
A tremendous flash of lightning had cut the sky down the middle, as if
it intended to divide the world in two halves, but after its passage the
darkness closed in thicker and heavier than ever. The sinister sound of
thunder muttering on the horizon now went on without ceasing.
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