“Aw, go on, you superstitious simp! The wood won’t be wet inside if it isn’t rotten. Don’t be a coward. Why, boy, you tell me you’re not going to be afraid of bullets and shells and bombs and gas. Aren’t they worse than people already dead? You make me tired. Go chase--!” “But shells is jes’ shells en’ bullets is jes’ bullets en’ all dat, but dese yere deaders may be ghos’ses. Lawsee, man! Ef one o’ dem t’ings ’d rise up en’ grab yo’--ooh!” “Say, you weren’t cut out for this kind of work, Wash. What are you going to do when we’ve got to haul some dead people, or when some poor chap dies on the way in? I’ve had three do that with me so far and it may happen right along. See here, if you want to stay with me you’ve got to be sensible and brave. There’s no such thing as ghosts and the only thing about a dead person is that it’s awful to think they’ve had to be killed. Are you going after--?” “Yes, suh; yes, suh! Ah’ll git de wood, ef dere is any. Ah reckon Ah ain’t so much scairt as Ah let on! Ah reckon Ah ain’t.” “You’d better not be scared at anything if you want to stay with this outfit. This is no coward’s job, Washington. And say, with that name of yours, now, you oughtn’t to be afraid of the whole German army, even if they were all dead. George Washington wasn’t afraid of anything. Is your first name George?” “Ah reckon ’tis, but Ah doan’ know fo’ shuah. Mah mammy allus jes’ call me Wash er Washington. No, suh, dat man Ah’s name fo’ wasn’t no coward. Ah’ll git de wood, but Ah’ll take de hatchet.” But Wash had become more reconciled to a camp in a soggy field by the time he had set his teeth into the bacon, several boxes of which, with other good things, filled a grub box in the car. Then, warmed by a fire that roared in spite of the drizzling rain and mist, and later rolled in a thick army blanket on the bottom of the ambulance, the darky’s snores soon gave evidence that ghosts were haunting him no longer. The morning dawned with lifting mists and a breeze that was making a counterdrive to chase away the enemy clouds in order to let the peaceful sunlight through. Don, while lighting the fire, planning the breakfast and prodding Wash to get up and cook it, felt much better for the change. “Hump yourself, you lazy snorefest you, and just look at the battle going on out here!” That had the effect of hastily arousing Wash. Not even the promise of a crap game is dearer to one of his kind than a scrap of this sort. “Whar-whar’s de fight? Ah doan’ heah no shootin’!” “See those Hun clouds?” enthused Don. “Well, that west wind comes straight from good old America and it’s making the boches hustle.” “Lawsee! Ah reckon you-all’s done got ’em! Wha-whar’s dat bacon en’ dem aigs. Yo’ jes’ watch me git up one breakfas’ dat’ll fetch roun’ yo’ senses! Golly! Heah dat?”