Jacob Alspaugh expressed the conclusion instantly arrived at by every one in the regiment: "It's all you could expect of one of them kid-glove fellers, to weaken when it came to serious business." Harry's self-sufficiency had left so little room for anything that did not directly concern his own comfort, that he could not understand the deadly earnestness of the men he saw file out of camp, or that there was any urgent call for him to join them in their undertaking.
"Bob Bennett's always going where there's no need of it," he said to a companion, as he saw the last of the regiment disappear into the woods on the mountain side.

"He could have staid back here with us just as well as not, instead of trudging off through the heat over these devilish roads, and probably get into a scrape for which no one will thank him." "Yes," said Ned Burnleigh, with his affected drawl, "what the devil's the use, I'd like to know, for a fellah's putting himself out to do things, when there's any quantity of other fellahs, that can't be better employed, ready and even anxious to do them." "That's so.

But it's getting awful hot here.

Let's go over to the shade, where we were yesterday, and have Dick bring us a bucket of cold spring water and the bottles and things." ---- "Abe!" said Jake Alspaugh to his file-leader--a red-headed, pock-marked man, whose normal condition was that of outspoken disgust at every thing--"this means a fight." "Your news would've been fresh and interesting last night," growled Abe Bolton.

"I suppose that's what we brought our guns along for." "Yes; but somebody's likely to get killed." "Well, you nor me don't have to pay their life insurance, as I know on." "But it may be you or me." "The devil'd be might anxious for green wood before he'd call you in." "Come, now, don't talk that way.