Of course each one of us was now doing some lively planning for the future.
"Well, taking all things into consideration," remarked Jack, the first evening after we had got settled in camp, "though we're glad to get out of the wilderness for a while, we've done pretty well this winter. We've had lots of fun, some lively adventures, and we've made more money than we had any idea of when we started into the business."
"Yes," I replied, "we'll each have something over a thousand dollars in clear cash for our winter's work, when we divide up, and that's more money than I ever possessed before--how is it with you fellows?"
"Well," I continued, "I suppose each one of you is studying out how he can quickest blow it in before re-enlisting?"
"I don't know about that," replied old Tom. "I expect to re-enlist after a bit, of course, for soldiering's the only trade I know and I haven't really much use for the money, but I'll not squander it foolishly. I've studied out a better use for it. I have a widowed sister with several children living on a little farm back in Pennsylvania, and they only make a poor, cornbread living off the place by close economy. I've made up my mind that the best use I can put this money to is to go back there and fix them up in good shape--and then I'm off to the war."
"Good for you, Tom," I said approvingly, "but then I naturally expected that you would put your money to a sensible use. How is it with Jack?"
And Tom and I turned our inquiring looks to the Irishman.
"I know what you think," retorted he quickly. "You think you know what'll get away with Jack's money. In your minds you see my money going for whiskey and me never drawing a sober breath till I'm down to bed-rock. But I'm going to fool you. I've been doing some thinking for myself--and that's a rare thing for Jack, you know--an' I says to myself, says I, 'Jacky, boy, this is the time of your life to do some good for your poor kindred in ould Ireland.' I haven't heard from any of them for several years and don't know who of them is living an' who is dead. But I've made up my mind that when we get into Leavenworth not a drop will I touch, and soon as I crook me fingers on that money I'll hit the trail for New York, take passage for the ould dart, and if I can find any of my family living I'll bring them back with me to this glorious land of liberty, where one man's as good as another and a blamed sight better if he behaves himself decently. And mind you, now, I'm not going to touch a drop of liquor till I get back from the ould country. And then, of course, I'll re-enlist, for soldiering's my best hold."