After a while he knocked against Bailey’s arm. “Where are we going?” he said, in a shy voice. Bailey laughed, not badly, “Well, Colonel, Corinth I guess, Corinth first⁠—and then some damn prison-camp.” He spat in the road. “It won’t be good grub,” he said. “Bacon and hominy-grits. They don’t eat right. They don’t eat nothing but bacon and hominy-grits. God, I’m goin’ to get tired of bacon and hominy-grits!”

Ellyat looked. There was something different about him. He stated a fact. “You’ve buttoned your pants,” he said. “I remember you didn’t have ’em buttoned this morning.”

“That’s so,” said Bailey, impressed, “Now when did I button em?” They chewed at the question, trying to puzzle it out. It seemed very important to both for quite a long time.