n a projecting twig, the other end of which flew
up and landed a very hot coal on the back of Abe's hand. Abe's action
followed that of the twig, in teh suddenness of his upspringing. He
hurled an oath and a firebrand at his comrade.

"This is really becoming domestic," said Kent as he laughingly dodged.
"The gentle amenities could not cluster more thickly around our
fireside, even if we were married."

When Abe resumed his seat he did not come down exactly upon the spot
from which he had arisen. It was a little farther to the right, where he
had stuck the needle. He had forgotten about it, but he rose with a howl
when it keenly reminded him that like the star-spangled banner, it "was
still there."

"Don't rise on my account, I beg," said Kent with a deprecatory wave of
the hand, as he hurried off to wher he could laugh with safety. A saucy
drummer-boy, who neglected this precaution, received a cuff from Abe's
heavy hand that thrilled the rest of the drum-corps with delight.

When Abe's wrath subsided from this ebullient stage back to its
customary one of simmer, Kent ventured to return.

"Say," said he, pulling over the coats and blankets near the fire,
"where's the canteen?"

"There it is by the cups. Can't you see it? If it was a snake it'd bite
you."

"It's done that already, several times, or rather its contents have. You
know what the Bible says, 'Biteth liek a serpent and stingeth like
an adder?' Ah, here it is. But gloomy forebodings seize me: it is
suspiciously light. Paradoxically, its lightness induces gravity in me.
But that pun is entirely too fine-drawn for camp atmosphere."

He shook the canteen near his ear. "Alas! no gurgle responds to my fond
caresses--

Canteen, Mavourneen, O, why art thou silent,
Thou voice of my heart?
It is--woe is me--it is empty."

"Of course it is--you were the last one at it."

"I hurl that foul imputation back into thy teeth base knave. Thou
thyself art a very daughter of a horse-leech with a canteen of whisky."

Abe looked at him inquiringly. "You must've found some, some place," he
said, "or you wouldn't be so awful glib. It's taken 'bout half-a-pint to
loosen your tongue so that it'd run this way. I know you."

"No, I've not found a spoonful. The eloquence of thirst is the only
inspiration I have at present. I fain would stay its cravings by
quaffing a beaker of mountain-distilled hair-curler. Mayhap this humble
receptacle conta