“Yew can't fool me with no gum-game o' that sort. I guess Perez wouldn't be grinnin that ar way ef he callated we wuz gonter be all chawed up afore mornin.” “Reuben tells the truth. They are going to attack us in the morning,” said Perez, looking up. Abner stared at him a moment, and then demanded half-sullen, half-puzzled: “Wal, Cap'n, wat dew ye see tew larf at in that? Derned ef I see nothin funny.” “Your glum mug would be enough to laugh at if there was nothing else Abner,” said Perez, getting up and gayly slapping the giant on the shoulder. “I s'pose ye must hev got some plan in yer head fer gittin the best on em,” suggested Abner, at last, evidently racking his brains to suggest a hypothesis to explain his commander's untimely levity. “No, Abner,” replied Perez, “I have not thought of any plan yet. What do you think about the business?” “I'm afeard thar ain't no dependin on the men fer a scrimmage. I callate they'll scatter ez soon's the news gits raound that the white feathers be comin, 'thout even waitin fer em tew git in sight,” was Abner's gloomy response. “I shouldn't be at all surprised if they did. I don't believe there's a dozen in the lot we could depend on,” said Perez cheerfully. “Wat's the matter with ye, Cap'n,” burst out Abner, in desperation. “I can't make aout wat's come over ye. Ye talk 's though ye didn' keer a Bungtaown copper wether we fit or run, or stayed an got hung, but jess set thar a grinnin tew yerself ez if ye'd loss yer wits.” Perez laughed again, but checking himself, replied: “I s'pose I do seem a little queer, Abner, but you mustn't mind that. I hope I haven't lost my wits quite. Let's see, now,” he went on in a businesslike tone, with the air of one abruptly enforcing a new direction upon his thoughts. “We could get up the men and retreat to the mountains by morning, but two-thirds would desert before we'd marched two miles, and slink away home, and the worst of it is the poor chaps would be arrested and abused when they got home.” “That's sartin so, Cap'n,” said Abner, his anxiety for Perez' sanity evidently diminishing. “It's a shame to retreat, too, with such a position to defend. Why, Abner, just look at it. The snow is three to four feet deep in the fields and woods, and the enemy can only come in on the road. That road is just like a causeway through a swamp or a bridge. They can't go off it without snowshoes. With half a company that I could depend on, I'd defend it against a regiment. If I wanted breastworks all I've got to do is to dig paths in the snow. I could hold Lee till the snow melts or till they took it by zig-zags and parallels through the drifts. But there's no use talking about any such thing, for there's no fight left in the men, not a bit. If they had ever so little grit left, we might hold out long enough at least to get some sort of fair terms, but, Lord they haven't. They'll just run like sheep.”