an' Uncle Sam?" He glanced quickly back the way he had come when he
heard Johnny's shot, but he could see nothing. He figured that Johnny
had sense enough to call for help if he needed it, and put that
possibility out of his mind. "Naw, this ain't no gunboat--the Government
don't steal men; it enlists 'em. But it's a funny pile of junk, all the
same. Where in blazes is that toy gun? _Well_, I'll be hanged!" and he
plunged toward the "Cotton" box he had burst in his descent, and worked
at it frantically.

"Winchesters! Winchesters!" he cried, dragging out two of them. "Whoop!
Now for the cartridges--there shore must be some to go with these
guns!" He saw a keg marked "Nails," and managed to open it after great
labor--and found it full of army Colts. Forcing down the desire to turn
a handspring, he slipped one of the six-shooters in his empty holster
and patted it lovingly. "Old friend, I'm shore glad to see you, all
right. You've been used, but that don't make no difference." Searching
further, he opened a full box of _machetes_, and soon after found
cartridges of many kinds and calibres. It took him but a few minutes to
make his selection and cram his pockets with them. Then he filled two
Colts and two Winchesters--and executed a short jig to work off the
dangerous pressure of his exuberance.

"But what an unholy lot of weapons," he soliloquized on his way back to
Johnny. "An' they're all second-hand. Cannons, too--an' _machetes_!" he
exclaimed, suddenly understanding. "Jumping Jerusalem!--a filibustering
expedition bound for Cuba, or one of them wildcat republics down south!
Oh, ho, my friends; I see where you have bit off more'n you can chew."
In his haste to impart the joyous news to his companion, he barked his
shins shamefully.