11th June: Returning with gifts

"At the waisenhouse, Captain, Sir."

Freddie answered only in passing, beaming at the compliment; but he didn't seem to mind running and talking at the same time at all. When he bobbed out of Captain Torrington's tent again, he explained more properly:

"I have helped in the Küche, and cooked for the ... the men that gave the orders and the money."

He didn't even really know how the governors were properly called in German.

"The cook showed me, and then I have cooked for her, too, and she telled me what I could make better. So I have learned."

"You are very good at it," Vickery said. He had not intended eating much more, but it was so delicious that he could not in good conscience leave anything on his plate. He was going to suggest something along the lines of possibly helping Cotton when it came to cooking duties, but it probably wouldn't come out right and he had no intention of hurting his batman's feelings.

"Beats me how you stay so thin, Pye," Cotton said, winking at the lad, who looked pretty pleased at the amount of food on his plate. "I mean, I can understand it with Rottländer, the amount o' runnin' around he does an' all. But you..." He grinned and shrugged.

"If that kettle's empty, reckon we can use it to boil some water for tea. What say you to that?" He reached forward to have a look inside the kettle and nodded, satisfied.

"I do run 'round too. "Pye mumbled unhappily. "An' I don't get to eat as much usually!" He thought that food was the best motivator in the world. He liked it, loved it and would probably have done quite a lot of things if it meant he could have more.

Perhaps he ate more than he should have, but one never knew when the next 'season of starvation' would begin. Why risk it, by not eating when one wished to and then feeling sad about all the food gone? "Is t' captain what doesn't let me go runnin' around much at all at t' moment!" He added instead then hastly. "is not 'is fault I mean.. I didn't man to sugges' that. I mean..:" He flushed as red as the collar of his coat. It was 'new', redone from the 95th to suit him. It was a surprisingly better fit than the first he had gotten a bit beaten down and worn, because Burke had had it before him.

"Well, it ain't quite so... dizzifyin' when you do it," Cotton allowed, settling the kettle back over the fire, to which he added some more sticks. "An' you got the run of the Rifles' bivvy, even if you can't leave camp. It's a big enough area, ain't it?" Even with the cooking fires, blanket shelters and everything else.

"The Captain's all right, though. He jus' don't want you gettin' yourself in trouble with folks outside the Rifles, I reckon, is what it all is."

"Ain't the same as going off runnin' through the woods." Pye shrugged. He felt constrained for the sole reason that he was told he could not go somewhere. Of course, being in the army had generally done that already, because if he went too far, he could be accused of desertion and he kept having to come back, but the added limit just felt as if somebody told him to sit put and not move from his spot at all.

"I've got friends out in t' other regiment.. though too." He said with a slight frown. "You know, I do."

Cotton had forgotten that. Maybe the Captain had, too.

"He didn't say you couldn't see them, right?" he said slowly. "Jus' that you needed to ask him for a ticket if you wanted to leave our part of the camp? Reckon he'd let you have a ticket so you could see your mates, if you asked him."

"Don't know if it'd be alright I ask him so soon, or often. He's got only so much paper, and if he wastes it all on me, then when he runs out, none of the others will be able to do inso much as go ter take a.. leak, durin' the march, 'couse they'd not be able to get a ticket." Pye reasoned. He did not want to be selfish in robbing others of their chance to get that highly valued piece of paper. Sure, him and his friend had soaked their own to the point they could as well have fallen apart at the first glance, but still.

"I'm not complainin', Gabe. I jus' hope it'll be over soon, so I can be.. relatively free, as it is." He smiled sheepishly. "s' like putting a chain on a wolf. Only, I'm not as useful as that'un would be."

"You ain't no wolf," Cotton remarked cheerily, poking at the sticks in the fire; the flame was burning up one side of the kettle rather than directly under it. "Dunno 'zackly what you are, though." He shrugged, smiling up at the lad. "The way you go runnin' around, you 'mind me of a young puppy, allus wantin' to play."

He straightened up, wiping his hands on his trousers. "I don't reckon he'll keep you on the leash tight-like for too long. He just wants to know he can trust you not to go doin' anythin' silly, see? Which, really, you haven't given him all that much chance to do lately."

"Puppy?" Pye shook his head. Being one may have been better than seeing one though. A puppy would never bite himself after all, except for some of those dumb mutts, who ran after their tales and growled at them, atleast that was what Pye thought. So he relented and smiled. "I guess I am a bit like a puppy... 'couse t' captain has me on a leash too."

To this he laughed softly. "Though, I'm not needing the teaching of... er , t' more basic things." He studied Cotton, his smile wavering a bit. "I guess... I know..I did not exactly do the right things to make him happy he took me on. But I promise that I had not done it intentionally. 'specially t' one where I was gone. Had I known...I would have asked someone to come with me.. or had not gone to the river at all..just wanted to get water for you, you know."

Cotton smiled. "Yeah, reckon he knows you never meant to do it. He just wants to keep an eye on you, make sure it ain't goin' to happen again. An' if any of us'd known you was goin' to get jumped that time, one of us would've gone with you." He gave Pye a frank look. "An' don't tell me you wasn't jumped 'cause I know you'd never've let your jacket get into that state elsewise."

He reached for the captain's tin mug, standing it with his own and Pye's, and a spare one for Rottlaender. "I s'pose it comes of bein' country bred an' born, but I see someone an' they allus 'mind me of a bird or beast."

Pye could not protest. Yes, he would not have wanted his own coat to end up in tatters. He was proud of it, he had been so proud of it when he first got it. Of course he could not say that he would have willingly had it damaged.

So he did not respond to that by anything else but by a drop of his gaze. "So...what sort of pup would you have me be then.. couse I know there are... there are kinds. Like .. like the ones that you see." He knew a difference between the lap dog of a rich lady, a yappy, teethy creature, and a hunting dog, who had many ways to communicate about what it had found. He had seen very few, bu he even know that there were mutts and then there weren't. And there was where his knowledge of dogs pretty much ended.

"And what would you say Freddie is?" His friend, with whom they still had honey to share!

"Hmm... I think you'm a terrier.. Rottlaender's very like a terrier too, though. Excited, allus wantin' to play, friendly an' eager to please, but lets folks know if it don't like 'em." He shrugged. "Doesn't allus work, of course, but there are times it does an' you can't help thinkin' of a partic'lar sort of creature when you meet someone."

Pye paused then grinned. " So.. um.. who else did you see like an animal when you firs' saw'em?" He was curious now. He glanced at the mugs. He would not need to get water for a while, but when he did, he would think to perhaps ask Freddie to come along a couple of times, or Burke. After that he was certain he could not fear another 'trip' again. Or, to be honest, even now.

"Hmm," Cotton said thoughtfully, using his forage cap to grasp the kettle's handle without burning himself, and pouring water into each mug in the row in front of him. "You ever seen the Gen'ral?"

"I did, yeah." Pye nodded. "What of him?" He inquired curiously and watched the steam rise from the cups which were filled with water.

His chick was resting comfortably, sleeping on top of his knapsack. She had been happily doing that for a little while and did not allow the 'big people' disturb her.

"Well, he's an eagle, see. The way he looks at you an' can see things from a long way off." He added a half-handful of tea-leaves to each mug, stirring a spoon of sugar into Captain Vickery's mug along with the tea. "Dunno what the Captain is. He's all... contrary. Sometimes he seems like a swan, all calm an' unruffled, though he can get angry enough when he'm roused. Gets all quiet when he'm proper angry, though."

"Swans can get ruffled up, especially if you try ter get to their chicks." Pye reasoned. "They'd kill you then, if they could and they've got large,.. terribly large bodies." He held his hands up to indicate how big the wings were. "Though...don't think they'um quiet...no." He knew very little about those animals too, but he had actually had the chance to see them. Of course not, back when he was in the streets of London.

"Hmmmm.." He looked thoughtfully. "I'd say he's an owl.. couse I've been tole' owls are real wise and they are quiet hunters.. you never know where they're untill they come droppin' down on you..leas' so I heard.. and.. and riflemen are quiet like.. But don't know. Is that true, 'bout them? Owls, I mean?"

"I know. The large'ns can break a man's leg if they get really riled up." Cotton shrugged. "That's what I mean, though. The captain don't get vi'lent when he gets angry. He gets all calm an' quiet an' icy-cold."

He nodded. "Aye, an owl's a good'n for him. An' yes, it is true. Best place to be to see 'em is near woods at dusk, 'specially if there's a field nearby. They'm real quiet, an' you'll only see a quick white shadow."

"Then he's an owl. And.. I think that their heads turn around... round and round.. so, they see everything, and that's certainly what he does. " He paused and grinned sheepishly. "Well.. almost everything....." He chuckled.

"Tea's almost ready. Do you need me to help you with anything else, what's going on in the camp that is. T' captain did tell me to be your batman...in a way. So, if you need anything, or want' anything done, tell me. A'right? I've got plenty enough time on my hands now."

"Owls don't screw their head right round, that I've ever seen," Cotton replied sagely. "Mind takin' the Captain his tea over?" he added, indicating the mug he'd added the sugar to.

Pye stood quickly, then reached for the mug. When he lifted it, he was much more careful. He did not spill even a bit of the tea, and nodded. "Will be right back with you." He said, though looked much more nervous.

He moved quickly enough, but had his eyes shifting between the way he was going and the mug, and back again. He had noticed that the captain left a short while earlier. While he wondered where he went, he was glad for some time in which the soldiers could talk among themselves without the worry of an officer overhearing. It would have been quite impossible to compare Vickery to an owl, if he was present.

He reached the tent and hoped the man was in there. "Sir?" He spoke, loud enough,.. but just as nervously.

A soldier's voice outside the tent. It sounded remarkably like Pye.

"Come in, he called, laying his pen down and looking up, glad of a distraction from the company Order Book.

"Sir. Cotton's sending you this tea." Pye spoke quickly as he entered the tent. He held the mug forward then realising that he would have made the captain stand if he did not move closer, did so. While he was unsure and nervous, he was able enough not to spill the tea even now.

"Got sugar in it, I think." He said hastly and turned the mug so that he held the handle out to the captain even if it was burning his fingers, on the outside of the mug itself.

"Careful there," Vickery said automatically, taking the mug and putting it down to cool on his table. He tapped the end of his pen on the page. "You don't have to be so nervous of me, you know," he said, looking up at the young Rifleman. "I've not bitten a Rifleman yet."