COL. No, Pete, my boy, I don't know where your mammy is. (_Puts hand on_ PETE'S _shoulder_.) What are you going to do?
PETE (_scratching head_). Dunno! (_Thinks a moment, then looks brightly into_ COLONEL'S _face_.) 'Specs I should jes lub to stay wid you.
COL. (_seating himself on stool, outside tent_). Stay with me? What could you do?
PETE. I can brack yer boots, massa. An' oh, massa Colonel, I do so lub a horse! Let me take care ob yours. I can handle 'em, massa, if dey be eber so debblesome. Please jes try me; an' I do eberyting yer axes me, sho's yer born.
COL. I havn't a horse, Pete; but you look like a pretty good boy. I think I can trust you. Yes, I will give you a trial.
PETE. Yer really means it? (COLONEL _nods assent_.) Ki-yi! (_Turns somersaults._)
PETE (_perplexed_). I ain't got no uniform, massa; 'specs I needs a sword for dat.
COL. That is a ragged coat you have on for this time of year. (_Goes into tent and brings out old army coat with gold stripes and buttons_). Here, put this on. You won't grow to it this year (_laughs_), but it is better than nothing.
PETE (_delighted; changes coat and walks about, admiring himself_). I jes wish my ole mammy see me now, she'd be proud, she'd be.
COL. Pete, you are to take good care of everything that belongs to me; and some day, when the war is over, we will go North and try to find your mammy.
COL. No, Pete; she died long ago; but a dear wife and sister are praying for a safe return.
PETE. Massa Colonel, I'll do jes de bery bes I knows.
COL. Well said, Pete. Now go into my tent and put it in order.
PETE. All right, massa. (_Salutes and enters tent; enter_ POTTS _and_ BIJAH.)
POTTS (_salutes_). Bijah Bright, the standard-bearer of your regiment.(BIJAH _salutes_.)
COL. A grave duty, Mr. Bright. May it not be trodden beneath your feet.
BIJAH. Wal, I guess not, colonel: not while this right arm is strong. Jest feel that muscle.
COL. Ha, ha! There's no doubt about that, or your heart either.
BIJAH. Only one corner reserved; the rest belongs to my country.
COL. And may I ask who possesses so great a treasure?
BIJAH. Why, don't you know? My Polly, your Polly.
COL. My Polly? Ah, I see. You mean Polly Primrose. Mr. Bright, you are to be congratulated; she's a treasure.