"Ef I doesn't git eben wid dat niggah, den I eat
a mule," he muttered more than once.
But Chunk was in great spirits and a state of suppressed excitement.
"'Pears ez ef I mout own mysef 'fo' dis moon done waxin' en wanin',"
he thought. "Dere's big times comin,' big times. I'se yeard w'at
hap'n w'en de Yanks go troo de kentry like an ol bull in a crock'ry
sto'." In his duties of waiting on the troopers and clearing the
table he had opportunities of purloining a goodly portion of the
viands, for he remembered that he also had assumed the role of host
with a very meagre larder to draw upon.
Since the Confederates were greatly wearied and were doubly inclined
to sleep from the effects of a hearty supper and liberal potations,
Mr. Baron offered to maintain a watch the early part of the night,
while Perkins was enjoined to sleep with one eye open near the
quarters. Mattresses and quilts were brought down and spread on the
piazza floor, from which soon rose a nasal chorus, "des like," as
Chunk declared, "a frog-pon' in full blas'.
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