Title: Si Klegg, Complete, Books 1-6
Author: McElroy, John
Language: English
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SI KLEGG

His Transformation From a Raw Recruit To A Veteran



By John McElroy



Frontispiece

Title Page


PUBLISHED BY

THE NATIONAL TRIBUNE CO.,

WASHINGTON, D. C

SECOND EDITION


COPYRIGHT 1910



THE SIX VOLUMES SI KLEGG, Book I, Transformation From a Raw Recruit SI
KLEGG, Book II, Through the Stone River Campaign SI KLEGG, Book III,
Meets Mr. Rosenbaum, the Spy SI KLEGG, Book IV, On The Great Tullahoma
Campaign SI KLEGG, Book V, Deacon's Adventures At Chattanooga SI KLEGG,
Book VI, Enter On The Atlanta Campaign



PREFACE.

"Si Klegg, of the 200th Ind., and Shorty, his Partner," were born more
than 25 years ago in the brain of John McElroy, editor of The National
Tribune, who invented the names and characters, outlined the general
plan, and wrote a number of the chapters. Subsequently, the editor,
having many other important things pressing upon his attention, called
in an assistant to help on the work, and this assistant, under the
direction and guidance of the editor, wrote some of these chapters.
Subsequently, without the editor's knowledge or consent, the assistant
adopted all the material as his own, and expanded it into a book which
had a limited sale and then passed into the usual oblivion of shortlived
subscription books.

The sketches in this first number are the original ones published in The
National Tribune in 1885-6, revised and enlarged somewhat by the editor.

Those in the second and all following numbers appeared in The National
Tribune when the editor, John McElroy, resumed the story in 1897, 12
years after the first publication, and continued it for the
unprecedented period of seven years, with constantly growing interest
and popularity. They gave "Si Klegg" a nation-wide and enduring
celebrity. Gen. Lew Wallace, the foremost literary man of his day,
pronounced "Si Klegg" the "great idyll of the war."

How true they are to nature every veteran can abundantly testify from
his own service. Really, only the name of the regiment was invented.
There is no doubt that there were several men of the name of Josiah
Klegg in the Union Army, and who did valiant service for the Government.
They had experiences akin to, if not identical with, those narrated
here, and substantially every man who faithfully and bravely carried a
musket in defense of the best Government on earth had sometimes, if not
often, experiences of with those of Si Klegg, Shorty and the boys are
strong reminders.

Many of the illustrations in this first number are by the late Geo. Y.
Coffin, deceased, a talented artist, whose work embellished The National
Tribune for many years. He was the artist of The National Tribune until
his lamented and premature death, and all his military work was done by
daily consultation, instruction and direction of the editor of The
National Tribune.

THE NATIONAL TRIBUNE.



CONTENTS


PREFACE.

SI KLEGG


CHAPTER I. GOING TO WAR\x97SI KLEGG'S COMPLETE EQUIPMENT

CHAPTER II. THE DEADLY BAYONET

CHAPTER III. THE OLD CANTEEN

CHAPTER IV. THE AWFUL HARDTACK

CHAPTER V. FAT PORK\x97INDISPENSABLE BODY TIMBER FOR PATRIOTISM

CHAPTER VI. DETAILED AS COOK\x97SI FINDS RICE ANOTHER INNOCENT

CHAPTER VII. IN THE AWKWARD SQUAD

CHAPTER VIII. ON COMPANY DRILL

CHAPTER IX. SI GETS A LETTER

CHAPTER X. SI AND THE DOCTORS

CHAPTER XI. THE PLAGUE OF THE SOLDIER

CHAPTER XII. A WET NIGHT

CHAPTER XIII. SI "STRAGGLED"

CHAPTER XIV. SI AND THE MULES

CHAPTER XV. UNDER FIRE\x97SI HAS A FIGHT, CAPTURES A PRISONER

CHAPTER XVI. ONE OF THE "NON-COMMISH"

CHAPTER XVII. FORAGING ON THE WAY

CHAPTER XVIII.   A SUNDAY OFF

CHAPTER XIX. A CLOSE CALL

CHAPTER XX. "THE SWEET SABBATH"

CHAPTER XXI. SI AND SHORTY WERE RAPIDLY LEARNING

CHAPTER XXII. A NIGHT OF SONG



ILLUSTRATIONS


Title Page

Frontispiece

Si Decides to Enlist

Off to the War

As Si Looked when he Landed at Louisville

Si's Load Begins to Get Heavy

Si's Chum, "shorty" Elliott

The Diverse Uses of the Good Old Canteen

What the Bayonet Was Good for

As Maria Pictured Si Using his Bayonet

He Tries the Butt of his Gun on It

The Best Way After All

The Veteran Talks to Si

Drawing Rations

"All Right, Boss; Dats a Go"

Si Falls out With his Food

Si Thinks It over

The Trouble Begins

The Rice Gets the Bulge

Si Makes the Acquaintance of The Guard House

"Right Shoulder Shift\x97Arms!"

"Fix\x97bayonets!"

Brought his Gun Down on the Man's Foot

Don't Care a Continental

"Right\x97face!"

"Forward\x97march!"

"Company\x97right Wheel!"

It's from Annabel

Si Carries a Rail

Si Writes to "deer Annie."

An Army Writing-desk

Laying the Foundation

A Rude Awakening

Visits the Doctor

"Let Yer Nails Grow; Ye'll Need 'em"

"Say, Cap, What Kind O' Bug is This?"

"Skirmishing"

"Naw! Lemme Show Ye How!"

Struck by a Cyclone

Supper Under Difficulties

A Field Shanty

It's the Morning

Taking the Top Rail

"Don't Stab Me."

Hydropathic Treatment

Si Defies a Regiment

He Let Both Heels Fly

Si Went Sprawling

Stuck in the Mud

It Burst With a Loud "bang."

Si Takes a Crack at A Reb

Si Captures a Johnny

Corporal si Klegg

One of the "Non-Com Mish."

"Not 'less Ye Say 'Bunker Hill.'"

They Had Shot a Mule

The 200th Ind. Was Not Without Talent in Foraging

Si Beat a Retreat

Si Being Worked for a "good Thing."

Si Was Disposed to Grumble

Showing the Old Man a Trick

Waiting for Their Clothes to Dry

An Assault on the Well-filled Corn Crib

Shorty Held the Calf

Si Sprang Upon Him

"Shorty if We\x97only Git\x97out O' This\x97"

So Straight he Leaned Backward

Si Almost Fainted when the Colonel Stopped

Shorty Was There\x97with a Guard



THIS BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO THE RANK AND FILE OF THE GRANDEST
ARMY EVER MUSTERED FOR WAR.



SI KLEGG



CHAPTER I. GOING TO WAR\x97SI KLEGG'S COMPLETE EQUIPMENT AND WHAT BECAME OF
IT.

AFTER Si Klegg had finally yielded to his cumulative patriotic impulses
and enlisted in the 200th Ind. for three years or until the rebellion
was put down, with greater earnestness and solemnity to equip himself
for his new career.

He was thrifty and provident, and believed in being ready for any
emergency. His friends and family coincided with him. The Quartermaster
provided him with a wardrobe that was serviceable, if not stylish, but
there were many things that he felt he would need in addition.

"You must certainly have a few pairs of homeknit socks and some changes
of underclothes," said his tearfully-solicitous mother. "They won't
weigh much, and they'll in all likelihood save you a spell of sickness."

"Certainly," responded Josiah, "I wouldn't think of going away without
'em."

Into the capacious knapsack went several pounds of substantial knit
woolen goods.

"You can't get along without a couple of towels and a piece of soap,"
said his oldest sister, Maria, as she stowed those things alongside the
socks and underclothes.

"Si," said Ellen, his second sister, "I got this pocket album for my
gift to you. It contains all our pictures, and there is a place for
another's picture, whose name I suppose I needn't mention," she added
archly.

Si got a little red in the face, but said:

"Nothing could be nicer, Nell. It'll be the greatest comfort in the
world to have all your pictures to look at when I'm down in Dixie."

"Here's a 'housewife' I've made for you with my own hands," added
Annabel, who was some other fellow's sister. She handed him a neatly-
stitched little cloth affair. "You see, it has needles, thread, buttons,
scissors, a fine-tooth comb, and several other things that you'll need
very badly after you've been in camp awhile. And" (she got so near Si
that she could whisper the rest) "you'll find in a little secret pocket
a lock of my hair, which I cut off this morning."

"I suppose I'll have a good deal of leisure time while we're in camp,"
said Si to himself and the others; "I believe I'll just put this Ray's
Arithmetic and Greene's Grammar in."

"Yes, my young friend," added the Rev. Boanarg, who had just entered the
house, "and as you will be exposed to new and unusual temptations, I
thought it would be judicious to put this volume of 'Baxter's Call to
the Unconverted' in your knapsack, for it may give you good counsel when
you need it sorely."

"Thankee," said Si, stowing away the book. Of course, Si had to have a
hair-brush, blackingbrush, a shaving kit, and some other toilet
appliances.

Si Decides to Enlist 017

Then it occurred to his thoughtful sister Maria that he ought to have a
good supply of stationery, including pens, a bottle of ink, and a
portfolio on which to write when he was far away from tables and desks.

These went in, accompanied by a half-pint bottle of "No. 6," which was
Si's mother's specific for all the ills that flesh is heir to. Then, the
blanket which the Quartermaster had issued seemed very light and
insufficient to be all the bed-clothes a man would have when sleeping on
the bare ground, and Si rolled up one of the warm counterpanes that had
helped make the Indiana Winter nights so comfortable for him.

"Seems rather heavy," said Si as he put his knapsack on; "but I guess
I'll get used to it in a little while. They say that soldiers learn to
carry surprising loads on their backs. It'll help cure me of being
round-shouldered; it'll be better 'n shoulder-braces for holding me up
straight."

Of course, his father couldn't let him go away without giving him
something that would contribute to his health and comfort, and at last
the old gentleman had a happy thought\x97he would get the village shoemaker
to make Si a pair of his best stout boots. They would be ever so much
better than the shoes the Quartermaster furnished for tramping over the
muddy roads and swamps of the South. Si fastened these on top of his
knapsack until he should need them worse than at present.

His old uncle contributed an immense bowie knife, which he thought would
be of great use in the sanguinary hand-to-hand conflicts Si would have
to wage.

On the way to the depot Si found some of his comrades gathered around an
enterprising retail dealer in hardware, who was convincing them that
they could serve their country much better, besides adding to their
comfort, by buying from him a light hatchet and a small frying-pan,
which he offered, in consideration of their being soldiers, to sell them
at remarkable low rates.

Off to the War 019

Si saw at once the great convenience a hatchet and a frying-pan would
be, and added them to his kit. An energetic dealer in tinware succeeded
in selling him, before he reached the depot, a cunning little coffee-pot
and an ingenious combination of knife, fork and spoon which did not
weigh more than a pound.

When he got in the cars he was chagrined to find that several of his
comrades had provided themselves with convenient articles that he had
not thought of. He consoled himself that the regiment would stop some
time in Louisville, when he would have an opportunity of making up his
deficiencies.

But when the 200th reached Louisville there was no leisure for anything.
Bragg was then running his celebrated foot-race with Buell for the
Kentucky metropolis, and the 200th Ind. was trotted as rapidly as unused
legs could carry it to the works several miles from the center of the
city.

Everybody who was in that campaign remembers how terribly hot and dry
everything was.

Si Klegg managed to keep up tolerably near the head of the column until
camp was reached, but his shoulders were strained and blisters began to
appear on his feet.

"That was a mighty tough pull, wasn't it?" he said to his chum as they
spread their blankets on the dog-kennel and made some sort of a bed;
"but I guess after a day or two we'll get so used to it that we won't
mind it."

For a few days the 200th Ind. lay in camp, but one day there came an
order for the regiment to march to Bardstown as rapidly as possible. A
battle was imminent. The roads were dusty as ash-heaps, and though the
pace was not three miles an hour, the boys' tongues were hanging out
before they were out of sight of camp.

"I say, Captain, don't they never have resting spells in the army?" said
Si.

"Not on a forced march," answered the Captain, who, having been in the
first three months' service, was regarded as a veteran. "Push on, boys;
they say that they'll want us before night." Another hour passed.

As si Looked when he Landed at Louisville 021

"Captain, I don't believe you can put a pin-point anywhere on my feet
that ain't covered with a blister as big as a hen's egg," groaned Si.

"It's too bad, I know," answered the officer; "but you must go on. They
say Morgan's cavalry are in our rear shooting down every straggler they
can find."

Si saw the boys around him lightening their knapsacks. He abominated
waste above all things, but there seemed no help for it, and, reaching
into that receptacle that bore, down upon his aching shoulders like a
glacier on a groundhog, he pulled out and tossed into the fence corner
the educational works he had anticipated so much benefit from. The
bottle of "No. 6" followed, and it seemed as if the knapsack was a ton
lighter, but it yet weighed more than any stack of hay on the home farm.

A cloud of dust whirled up, and out of it appeared a galloping Aid.

"The General says that the 200th Ind. must push on much faster. The
enemy is trying to get to the bridge ahead of them," he shouted as he
dashed off in another cloud of dust.

A few shots were heard in the rear.

"Morgan's cavalry are shooting some more stragglers," shouted some one.

Si was getting desperate. He unrolled the counterpane and slashed it
into strips with his bowie. "My mother made that with her own hands," he
explained to a comrade, "and if I can't have the good of it no infernal
rebel shall. He next slashed the boots up and threw them after the
quilt, and then hobbled on to overtake the rest of his company.

"There's enough dry-goods and clothing lying along in the fence corners
to supply a good-sized town," the Lieutenant-Colonel reported as he rode
over the line of march in rear of the regiment.

The next day Si's feet felt as if there was a separate and individual
jumping toothache in every sinew, muscle, tendon and toe-nail; but that
didn't matter. With Bragg's infantry ahead and John Morgan's cavalry in
the rear, the 200th Ind. had to go forward so long as the boys could put
one foot before the other.

Si's Load Begins to Get Heavy 023

The unloading went on even more rapidly than the day before.

"My knapsack looks like an elephant had stept on it," Si said, as he
ruefully regarded it in the evening.

"Show me one in the regiment that don't," answered his comrade.

Thenceforward everything seemed to conspire to teach Si how vain and
superfluous were the things of this world. The first rain-storm soaked
his cherished album until it fell to pieces, and his sister's portfolio
did the same. He put the photographs in his blouse pocket and got along
just as well. When he wanted to write he got paper from the sutler. A
mule tramped on his fancy coffee-pot, and he found he could make quite
as good coffee in a quart-cup. A wagon-wheel lan over his cherished
frying-pan, and he melted an old canteen in two and made a lighter and
handier pan out of one-half of it. He broke his bowie-knife prying the
lid off a cracker-box. He piled his knapsack with the others one day
when the regiment was ordered to strip them off for a charge, and
neither he nor his comrades ever saw one of them again. He never
attempted to replace it. He learned to roll up an extra pair of socks
and a change of underclothing in his blanket, tie the ends of this
together and throw it over his shoulder sash fashion. Then, with his
socks drawn up over the bottoms of his pantaloons, three days' rations
in his haversack and 40 rounds in his cartridgebox, he was ready to make
his 30 miles a day in any direction he might be sent, and whip anything
that he encountered on the road.



CHAPTER II. THE DEADLY BAYONET IT IS USED FOR NEARLY EVERYTHING ELSE
THAN FOR PRODDING MEN.

IN COMMON with every other young man who enlisted to defend the glorious
Stars and Stripes, Si Klegg, of the 200th Ind., had a profound
superstition concerning the bayonet. All the war literature he had ever
read abounded in bloodcurdling descriptions of bayonet charges and hand-
to-hand conflicts, in which bayonets were repeatedly thrust up to the
shanks in the combatants' bodies just as he had put a pitch-fork into a
bundle of hay. He had seen pictures of English regiments bristling with
bayonets like a porcupine with quills, rushing toward French regiments
which looked as prickly as a chestnut-bur, and in his ignorance he
supposed that was the way fighting was done. Occasionally he would have
qualms at the thought of how little his system was suited to have cold
steel thrust through it promiscuous-like, but he comforted himself with
the supposition that he would probably get used to it in time\x97"soldiers
get used to almost anything, you know."

When the 200th Ind. drew its guns at Indianapolis he examined all the
strange accouterments with interest, but gave most to the triangular bit
of steel which writers who have never seen a battle make so important a
weapon in deciding contests.

It had milk, molasses, or even applejack, for Si then was not a member
of the Independent Order of Good Templars, of which society he is now an
honored officer. Nothing could be nicer, when he was on picket, to bring
buttermilk in from the neighboring farm-house to his chum Shorty, who
stood post while he was gone.

Si's Chum, 'shorty' Elliott 026

Later in the service Si learned the inestimable value of coffee to the
soldier on the march. Then he stript the cloth from his canteen,
fastened the strand with bits of wire and made a fine coffee-pot of it.
In the morning he would half fill it with the splendid coffee ihe
Government furnished, fill it up with water and hang it from a bush or a
stake over the fire, while he went ahead with his other culinary
preparations. By the time these were finished he would have at least a
quart of magnificent coffee that the cook of the Fifth Avenue could not
surpass, and which would last him until the regiment halted in the
afternoon.

The bully of the 200th took it into his thick head one day to try to
"run over" Si. The latter had just filled his canteen, and the bully
found that the momentum of three pints of water swung at arm's length by
an angry boy was about equal to a mule's kick.

Just as he was beginning to properly appreciate his canteen, he learned
a sharp lesson, that comes to all of us, as to how much "cussedness"
there can be in the simplest things when they happen to go wrong. He
went out one day and got a canteen of nice sweet milk, which he and
"Shorty" Elliott heartily enjoyed. He hung the canteen upon the ridge-
pole of the tent, and thought no more about it until the next day, when
he came in from drill, and found the tent filled with an odor so vile
that it made him cough.

"Why in thunder don't the Colonel send out a detail to find and bury
that dead mule? It'll pizen the hull camp."

He had been in service just long enough to believe that the Colonel
ought to look out for and attend to everything.

"'Taint no dead mule," said Shorty, whose nose had come close to the
source of the odor. "It's this blamed canteen. What on earth have you
been putting in it. Si?"

"Ha'int had nothin' in but that sweet milk yesterday."

"That's just what's the matter," said the Orderly, who, having been in
the three-months' service, knew all about war. He had come in to detail
Si and Shorty to help unload Quartermaster's stores. "You must always
scald out your canteens when you've had milk in 'em. Don't you remember
how careful your mother is to scald her milk pans?"

After the company wagon had run over and hopelessly ruined the neat
little frying-pan which Si had brought from Posey County, he was in
despair as to how he should fry his meat and cook his "lobscouse."
Necessity is the mother of invention. He melted in two a canteen he
picked up, and found its halves made two deep tin pans, very light and
very handy. A split stick made a handle, and he had as good a frying-pan
as the one he had lost, and much more convenient, for when done using
the handle was thrown away, and the pan slipt into the haversack, where
it lay snug and close, instead of clattering about as the frying-pan did
when the regiment moved at the double-quick.

The other half of the canteen was useful to brown coffee, bake hoe-cake,
and serve for toilet purposes.

One day on the Atlanta campaign the regiment moved up in line to the top
of a bald hill. As it rose above the crest it was saluted with a
terrific volley, and saw that another crest across the narrow valley was
occupied by at least a brigade of rebels.

"We'll stay right here, boys," said the plucky little Colonel, who had
only worn Sergeant's stripes when the regiment crossed the Ohio River.
"We've preempted this bit of real estate, and we'll hold it against the
whole Southern Confederacy. Break for that fence there, boys, and every
fellow come back with a couple of rails."

It seemed as if he hardly ceased speaking when the boys came running
back with the rails which they laid down along the crest, and dropped
flat behind them, began throwing the gravelly soil over them with their
useful half-canteens. In vain the shower of rebel bullets struck and
sang about them. Not one could penetrate that little ridge of earth and
rails, which in an hour grew into a strong rifle-pit against which the
whole rebel brigade charged, only to sustain a bloody repulse.

The war would have lasted a good deal longer had it not been for the
daily help of the ever-useful half-canteen.



CHAPTER III. THE OLD CANTEEN THE MANY AND QUEER USES TO WHICH IT WAS AT
LAST PUT.

The Diverse Uses of the Good Old Canteen 029

WHEN Josiah (called "Si" for short) Klegg, of the 200th Ind., drew his
canteen from the Quartermaster at Louisville, he did not have a very
high idea of its present or prospective importance. In the 22 hot
Summers that he had lived through he had never found himself very far
from a well or spring when his thirst cried out to be slacked, and he
did not suppose that it was much farther between wells down South.

"I don't see the use of carrying two or three pints o' water along all
day right past springs and over cricks," he remarked to his chum, as the
two were examining the queer, cloth-covered cans.

"We've got to take 'em, any way," answered his chum, resignedly, "It's
regulations."

On his entry into service a boy accepted everything without question
when assured that it was "regulations." He would have charged bayonets
on a buzz-saw if authoritatively informed that it was required by the
mysterious "regulations."

The long march the 200th Ind. made after Bragg over the dusty turnpikes
the first week in October, 1862, taught Si the value of a canteen. After
that it was rarely allowed to get empty.

"What are these grooves along each side for?" he asked, pointing out the
little hollows which give the "prod" lightness and strength.

"Why," answered the Orderly, who, having been in the three-months'
service, assumed to know more about war than the Duke of Wellington,
"the intention of those is to make a wound the lips of which will close
up when the bayonet is pulled out, so that the man'll be certain to
die."

Naturally so diabolical an intention sent cold shivers down Si's back.

The night before Si left for "the front" he had taken his musket and
couterments home to show them to his mother and sisters\x97and the other
fellow's sister, whose picture and lock of hair he had safely stowed
away. They looked upon the bayonet with a dreadful awe. Tears came into
Maria's eyes as she thought of Si roaming about through the South like a
bandit plunging that cruel steel into people's bowels.

"This is the way it's done," said Si, as he charged about the room in an
imaginary duel with a rebel, winding up with a terrifying lunge. "Die,
Tur-r-rraitor, gaul durn ye," he exclaimed, for he was really getting
excited over the matter, while the girls screamed and jumped upon the
chairs, and his good mother almost fainted.

The attention that the 200th Ind. had to give to the bayonet drill
confirmed Si's deep respect for the weapon, and he practiced assiduously
all the "lunges," "parries," and "guards" in the Manual, in the hope
that proficiency so gained would save his own dearly-beloved hide from
puncture, and enable him to punch any luckless rebel that he might
encounter as full of holes as a fishing net.

What the Bayonet Was Good for 033

The 200th Ind.'s first fight was at Perryville, but though it routed the
rebel force in front of it, it would have taken a bayonet half-a-mile
long to touch the nearest "Johnny." Si thought it odd that the rebels
didn't let him get close enough to them to try his new bayonet, and
pitch a dozen or two of them over into the next field.

If the truth must be told, the first blood that stained Si's bayonet was
not that of a fellow-man.

Si Klegg's company was on picket one day, while Gen. Buell was trying to
make up his mind what to do with Bragg. Rations had been a little short
for a week or so. In fact, they had been scarcely sufficient to meet the
demands of Si's appetite, and his haversack had nothing in it to speak
of. Strict orders against foraging had been, issued. It was the day of
"guarding rebel onion patches." Si couldn't quite get it straight in his
head why the General should be so mighty particular about a few pigs and
chickens and sweet potatoes, for he was really getting hungry, and when
a man is in this condition he is not in a fit mood to grapple with fine-
spun theories of governmental policy.

So when a fat pig came wabbling and grunting toward his post, it was to
Si like a vision of manna to the children of Israel in the wilderness. A
wild, uncontrollable desire to taste a fresh spare-rib took possession
of him. Naturally, his first idea was to send a bullet through the
animal, but on second thought he saw that wouldn't do at all. It would
"give him away" at once, and, besides, he had found that a single shot
on the picket-line would keep Buell's entire army in line-of-battle for
a whole day.

Si wrote to his mother that his bright new bayonet was stained with
Southern blood, and the old lady shuddered at the awful thought. "But,"
added Si, "it was only a pig, and not a man, that I killed!"

"I'm so glad!" she exclaimed.

As Maria Pictured si Using his Bayonet 035

By the time Si had been in the service a year there was less zeal in the
enforcement of orders of this kind, and Si had become a very skillful
and successful forager. He had still been unable to reach with his
bayonet the body of a single one of his misguided fellow citizens, but
he had stabbed a great many pigs and sheep. In fact, Si found his
bayonet a most useful auxiliary in his predatory operations. He could
not well have gotten along without it.

Uncle Sam generally furnished Si with plenty of coffee\x97roasted and
unground\x97but did not supply him with a coffee mill. Si thought at first
that the Government had forgotten something. He saw that several of the
old veterans of '61 had coffee mills, but he found on inquiry that they
had been obtained by confiscation only. He determined to supply himself
at the first opportunity, but in the meantime he was obliged to 'use his
bayonet as a substitute, just as all the rest of the soldiers did.

We regret to say that Si, having thrown away his "Baxter's Call to the
Unconverted" in his first march, and having allowed himself to forget
the lessons he had learned but a few years before in Sunday-school, soon
learned to play poker and other sinful games. These, at night, developed
another use for the bayonet. In its capacity as a "handy" candlestick it
was "equaled by few and excelled by none." The "shank" was always ready
to receive the candle, while the point could be thrust into the ground
in an instant, and nothing more was necessary. This was perhaps the most
general sphere of usefulness found by the bayonet during the war.
Barrels of candle-grease flowed down the furrowed sides of this weapon
for every drop of human blood that dimmed its luster.



CHAPTER IV. THE AWFUL HARDTACK THE HARD AND SOLID STAFF OF MILITARY
LIFE.

"APPETITE'S a queer thing," said Si to Shorty one day, when both were in
a philosophical mood. "It's an awful bother when you haven't it, and
it's a great deal worse when you have it, and can't get anything for
it." "Same as money," returned sage Shorty. During the first few months
of Si Klegg's service in the army the one thing that bothered him more
than anything else was his appetite. It was a very robust, healthy one
that Si had, for he had grown up on his father's farm in Indiana, and
had never known what it was to be hungry without abundant means at hand
for appeasing his desires in that direction. His mother's cupboard was
never known to be in the condition of Old Mother Hubbard's, described in
the nursery rhyme. The Kleggs might not have much tapestry and bric-a-
brac in their home, but their smoke-house was always full, and Mrs.
Klegg's kitchen could have fed a camp-meeting any time without warning.
So it was that when Si enlisted his full, rosy face and his roundness of
limb showed that he had been well fed, and that nature had made good use
of the ample daily supplies that were provided. His digestive organs
were kept in perfect condition by constant exercise.

After Si had put down his name on the roll of Co. Q of the 200th Ind. he
had but a few days to remain at home before his regiment was to start
for Louisville. During this time his mother and sisters kept him filled
up with "goodies" of every sort. In fact, it was the biggest thing in
the way of a protracted picnic that Si had ever struck.

"You must enjoy these things while you can, Si," said his mother, "for
goodness knows what you'll do when you really git into the army. I've
heerd 'em tell awful things about how the poor sogers don't have half
enough to eat, and what they do git goes agin' any Christian stomach.
Here, take another piece of this pie. A little while, and it'll be a
long time, I reckon, till ye git any more."

"Don't keer if I do!" said Si, for there was scarcely any limit to his
capacity.

And so during those days and nights the old lady and the girls cooked
and cooked, and Si ate and ate, until it seemed as if he wouldn't want
any more till the war was over.

Si was full, and as soon as Co. Q was, it was ordered to camp, and Si
had to go. They loaded him down with good things enough to last him a
week. The pretty Annabel\x97the neighbor's daughter who had solemnly
promised Si that she wouldn't go with any other fellow while he was
away\x97came around to see Si off and brought him a rich fruit cake.

"I made that for you," she said.

"Bully for you!" said Si, for he felt that he must begin to talk like a
soldier.

The first day or two after reaching Louisville the 200th received
rations of "soft bread." But that didn't last long. It was only a way
they had of letting the fresh soldier down easy. Orders came to get
ready to pull out after Bragg, and then Si'a regiment had its first
issue of army rations. As the Orderly pried open a box of hardtack and
began to distribute them to the boys, exclaimed:

"Them's nice-looking soda crackers. I don't believe the grub is going to
be so bad, after all."

Si had never seen a hardtack before.

"Better taste one and see how you like it!" said one of Buell's ragged
Indiana veterans, who had come over to see the boys of the 200th and
hear the latest news from "God's country."

It happened that this lot was one of extra quality as to hardness. The
baker's watch had stopped, or he had gone to sleep, and they had been
left in the oven or dry-kiln too long. Si took one of them and carried
it to his mouth. He first tried on it the bite which made such havoc
with a quarter section of custard pie, but his incisors made no more
impression upon it than if it had been a shingle.

"You have to bear on hard," said the veteran, with a grim smile.

"Je-ru-sa-lem!" exclaimed Si after he had made two or three attempts
equally barren of results.

Then he tried his "back teeth." His molars were in prime order, and his
jaw power was sufficient to crack a hickory nut every time. Si crowded
one corner of the hardtack as far as he could between his "grinders,"
where he could get a good "purchase" on it, shut his eyes and turned on
a full head of steam. His teeth and jaws fairly cracked under the
strain, but he couldn't even "phase" it.

"If that ain't old pizen!" said Si. "It beats anything I ever seen up in
the Wabash country."

But his blood was up, and laying the cracker upon a log, he brought the
butt of his gun down upon it like a pile-driver.

He Tries the Butt of his Gun on It 041

"I thought I'd fix ye," he said, as he picked up the fragments, and
tried his teeth upon the smaller ones. "Have I got to eat such stuff as
that?" with a despairing look at his veteran friend. "I'd just as soon
be a billy-goat and live on circus-posters, fruit-cans and old hoop-
skirts."

"You'll get used to it after a while, same's we did. You'll see the time
when you'll be mighty glad to get even as hard a tack as that!"

Si's heart sank almost into his shoes at the prospect, for the taste of
his mother's pie and Annabel's fruit cake were yet fresh in his mouth.
But Si was fully bent on being a loyal, obedient soldier, determined to
make the best of everything without any more "kicking" than was the
inalienable right of every man who wore a uniform.

For the first time in his life Si went to bed hungry that night.
Impelled by the gnawings of his appetite he made repeated assaults upon
the hardtack, but the result was wholly insufficient to satisfy the
longings of his stomach. His supper wasn't anything to speak of. Before
going to bed he began to exercise his ingenuity on various schemes to
reduce the hardtack to a condition in which it would be more gratifying
to his taste and better suited to the means with which nature had
provided him for disposing of his rations. Naturally Si thought that
soaking in water would have a beneficial effect. So he laid five or six
of them in the bottom of a camp-kettle, anchored them down with a stone,
and covered them with water. He thought that with the aid of a frying-
pan he would get up a breakfast that he could eat, anyway.

Si felt a little blue as he lay curled up under his blanket with his
head pillowed on his knapsack. He thought some about his mother, and
sister Maria, and pretty Annabel, but he thought a good deal more about
the beef and potatoes, the pies and the puddings, that were so
plentifully spread upon the table at home.

It was a long time before he got to sleep. As he lay there, thinking and
thinking, there came to his mind some ether uses to which it seemed to
him the hardtack might be put, which would be much more consistent with
its nature than to palm it off on the soldiers as alleged food. He
thought he could now understand why, when he enlisted, they examined his
teeth so carefully, as if they were going to buy him for a mule. They
said it was necessary to have good teeth in order to bite "cartridges"
successfully, but now he knew it was with reference to his ability to
eat hardtack.

Si didn't want to be killed if he could help it.

While he was lying there he determined to line one of his shirts with
hardtacks, and he would put that on whenever there was going to be a
fight. He didn't believe the bullets would go through them. He wanted to
do all he could toward paralyzing the rebels, and with such a protection
he could be very brave, while his comrades were being mowed down around
him. The idea of having such' a shirt struck Si as being a brilliant
one.

Then, he thought hardtack would be excellent for half-soling his shoes.
He didn't think they would ever wear out.

If he ran short of ammunition he could ram pieces of hardtack into his
gun and he had no doubt they would do terrible execution in the ranks of
the enemy.

All these things and many more Si thought of until finally he was lost
in sleep. Then he dreamed that somebody was trying to cram stones down
his throat.

The company was called out at daylight, and immediately after roll-call
Si went to look after the hardtacks he had put to soak the night before.
He thought he had never felt so hungry in his life. He fished out the
hardtack and carefully inspected them, to note the result of the
submerging and to figure out the chances on his much-needed breakfast.

To any old soldier it would be unnecessary to describe the condition in
which Si found those hardtacks, and the effect of the soaking. For the
information of any who never soaked a hardtack it may be said that Si
found them transformed, to all appearances, into sole-leather. They were
flexible, but as tough as the hide that was "found in the vat when the
tanner died."

Si tried to bite a piece off one of them to see what it was like, but he
couldn't get his teeth through it. In sheer desperation he laid it on a
log, seized a hatchet, and chopped off a corner. He put it in his mouth
and chewed on it a while, but found it as tasteless as cold codfish.

Si thought he would try the frying-pan. He chopped the hardtacks into
bits, put in equal parts of water and grease, sifted over the mixture a
little salt and pepper, and then gave it a thorough frying. Si's spirits
rose during the gradual development of this scheme, as it seemed to
offer a good prospect for his morning meal. And when it came to the
eating. Si found it really good, comparatively speaking, even though it
was very much like a dish compounded of the sweepings from around a
shoemaker's bench. A good appetite was indispensable to a real enjoyment
of this\x97which the soldiers called by a name that cannot be given
here\x97but Si had the appetite, and he ate and was thankful.

"I thought I'd get the bulge on them things some way or other," said Si,
as he drank the last of his coffee and arose from his meal, feeling like
a giant refreshed with new wine.

For the next two or three months Si largely devoted his surplus energies
to further experimenting with the hardtack. He applied every conceivable
process of cookery he could think of that was possible with the meager
outfit at his command in the way of utensils and materials. Nearly all
of his patient and persevering efforts resulted only in vexation of
spirit.

He continued to eat hardtack from day to day, in these various forms,
but it was only because he had to do it. He didn't hanker after it, but
it was a military necessity\x97hardtack or starvation. It was a hard
choice, but Si's love of life\x97and Annabel\x97induced him to choose the
hardtack.

The Best Way After All 045

But for a long-time Si's stomach was in a state of chronic rebellion,
and on the whole he had a hard time of it getting used to this staple
article of army diet. He did not become reconciled to it until after his
regiment had rations of flour for a week, when the "cracker-line" had
been cut by the guerillas and the supply of that substantial edible was
exhausted. Si's experience with the flour swept away all his objections
to the hardtack. Those slapjacks, so fearfully and wonderfully made, and
those lumps of dough, mixed with cold water and dried on flat stones
before the fire, as hard as cannon balls, played sad havoc with his
internal arrangements. For the first time he was obliged to fall into
the cadaverous squad at sick-call and wabble up to the doctor's shop,
where he was dosed with castor-oil and blue-mass. Si was glad enough to
see hardtack again. Most of the grumbling he did thereafter concerning
the hardtack was because he often couldn't get enough.

About six months taught Si what all the soldiers learned by experience,
that the best way to eat the average hardtack was to take it
"straight"\x97just as it came out of the box, without any soaking or frying
or stewing. At meal-time he would make a quart or so of coffee, stab the
end of a ramrod through three or four slices of sowbelly, and cook them
over the coals, allowing some of the drippings to fall upon the hardtack
for lubricating purposes, and these constituted his frugal repast.



CHAPTER V. FAT PORK\x97INDISPENSABLE BODY TIMBER FOR PATRIOTISM.

IT WAS told in the last chapter how the patriotic impulses of Si Klegg,
of the 200th Ind., reached his stomach and digestive apparatus, and
brought them under obedient subjection to hardtack. He didn't have quite
so rough an experience with that other staple of army diet, which was in
fact the very counterpart of the hardtack, and which took its most
popular name from that part of the body of the female swine which is
usually nearest the ground. Much of Si's muscle and brawn was due to the
fact that meat was always plenty on his father's farm. When Si enlisted
he was not entirely free from anxiety on the question of meat, for to
his appetite it was not even second in importance to bread. If bread was
the "staff of life" meat was life itself to Si. It didn't make much
difference to him what kind it was, only so it was meat. He didn't
suppose Uncle Sam would keep him supplied with quail on toast and
porterhouse steaks all the time, but he did hope he would give him as
much as he wanted of something in that line.

"You won't get much pork, unless you're a good forager," said one of
Si's friends he met at Louisville, and who had been a year in the
service.

Si thought he might, with practice and a little encouragement, be fairly
successful in foraging on his' own hook, but at the same time he said he
wouldn't grumble if he could only get plenty of pork. Fortunately for
him he had not been imbued with the teachings of the Hebraic
dispensation which declared "unclean" the beast that furnished the great
bulk of the animal food for the American defenders of the Union.

Co. Q of the 200th Ind. received with the first issue of army rations at
Louisville a bountiful supply of bacon of prime quality, and Si was
happy at the prospect. He thought it would always be that way.

"I don't see anything the matter with such grub as that!" said Si.
"Looks to me as though we were goin' to live like fighting-cocks."

"You're just a little bit brash," said his veteran friend, who had just
been through the long, hungry march from Huntsville, Ala., to
Louisville. "Better eat all you can lay yer hands on now, while ye've
got a chance. One o' these days ye'll git into a tight place and ye
won't see enough hog's meat in a week to grease a griddle. I've bin
there, myself! Jest look at me and see what short rations 'll bring you
to?"

But Si thought he wouldn't try to cross a bridge till he got to it, nor
lie awake nights worrying over troubles that were yet in the future. Si
had a philosophical streak in his mental make-up and this, by the way,
was a good thing for a soldier to have. "Sufficient unto the day is the
evil thereof," was an excellent rule for him to go by.

So Si assimilated all the pork that fell to his share, with an extra bit
now and then from a comrade whose appetite was less vigorous. He thrived
under its fructifying influence, and gave good promise of military
activity and usefulness. No scientific processes of cookery were
necessary to prepare it for immediate use. A simple boiling or frying or
toasting was all that was required.

The Veteran Talks to si 049

During the few days at Louisville fresh beef was issued occasionally. It
is true that the animals slain for the soldiers were not always fat and
tender, nor did each of them have four hind-quarters. This last fact was
the direct cause of a good deal of inflammation in the 200th Ind., as in
every other regiment. The boys who got sections of the forward part of
the "critter," usually about three-quarters bone, invariably kicked, and
fired peppery remarks at those who got the juicy steaks from the rear
portion of the animal. Then when their turn came for a piece of hind-
quarter the other fellows would growl. Four-fifths of the boys generally
had to content themselves with a skinny rib or a soupshank. Si shared
the common lot, and did his full quota of grumbling because his "turn"
for a slice of steak didn't come every time beef was issued.

The pickled pork was comparatively free from this cause of irritation.
It was all alike, and was simply "Hobson's choice." Si remembered the
fragrant and delicious fried ham that so often garnished his mother's
breakfast table and wondered why there was not the same proportion of
hams and sides in the Commissary that he remembered in the meathouse on
the Wabash. He remarked to Shorty one day:

"I wonder where all this pork comes from?"

"It comes from Illinoy, I suppose," said Shorty. "I notice the barrels
are all marked 'Chicago'."

"Must grow funny kind o' hogs out there\x97a mile long each, I should say.
What do you mean?"

"Why, we've drawn a full mile o' sides from the Commissary, and haint
struck a ham yit. I'm wonderin' jest how long that hog is!"

"Well, you are green. You oughter know by this time that there are only
enough hams for the officers."

Now and then a few pigs' shoulders were handed round among the boys, but
the large proportion of bone they contained was exasperating, and was
the cause of much profanity.

Sometimes bacon was issued that had really outlived its usefulness,
except, perhaps, for the manufacture of soap. Improperly "cured," it was
strong and rancid, or, occasionally, so near a condition of putrefaction
that the stench from it offended the nostrils of the whole camp. Some
times it was full of "skippers," that tunneled their way through and
through it, and grew fat with riotous living.

Drawing Rations 051

Si drew the line at this point. He had an ironplated stomach, but putrid
and maggoty meat was too much for it. Whenever he got any of this he
would trade it off to the darkies for chickens. There is nothing like
pork for a Southern negro. He wants something that will "stick to his
ribs."

By a gradual process of development his appetite reached the point when
he could eat his fat pork perfectly raw. During a brief halt when on the
march he would squat in a fence corner, go down into his haversack for
supplies, cut a slice of bacon, lay it on a hardtack, and munch them
with a keen relish.

'all Right, Boss; Dats a Go' 052

At one of the meetings of the Army of the Cumberland Gen. Garfield told
a story which may appropriately close this chapter.

One day, while the Army of the Cumberland was beleaguered in Chattanooga
and the men were almost starving on quarter rations, Gen. Rosecrans and
his staff rode out to inspect the lines. As the brilliant cavalcade
dashed by a lank, grizzled soldier growled to a comrade:

"It'd be a darned sight better for this army if we had a little more
sowbelly and not quite so many brass buttons!"



CHAPTER VI. DETAILED AS COOK\x97SI FINDS RICE ANOTHER INNOCENT WITH A GREAT
DEAL OF CUSSEDNESS IN IT.

IT WOULD have been very strange, indeed, if Si Klegg had not grumbled
loudly and frequently about the food that was dished up to him by the
company cooks. In the first place, it was as natural for a boy to
grumble at the "grub" as it was for him to try to shirk battalion drill
or "run the guard." In the next place, the cooking done by the company
bean-boiler deserved all the abuse it received, for as a rule the boys
who sought places in the hash foundry did so because they were too lazy
to drill or do guard duty, and their knowledge of cooking was about like
that of the Irishman's of music:

"Can you play the fiddle, Pat?" he was asked. "Oi don't know, sor-r-r\x97Oi
niver tried."

Si's mother, like most of the well-to-do farmers' wives in Indiana, was
undoubtedly a good cook, and she trained up her daughters to do honor to
her teachings, so that Si undoubtedly knew what properly-prepared food
was. From the time he was big enough to spank he had fared sumptuously
every day. In the gush of patriotic emotions that prompted him to enlist
he scarcely thought of this feature of the case. If it entered his mind
at all, he felt that he could safely trust all to the goodness of so
beneficent a Government as that for the preservation of which he had
offered himself as a target for the rebels to shoot at. He thought it no
more than fair to the brave soldiers that Uncle Sam should furnish
professional cooks for each company, who would serve everything up in
the style of a first-class city restaurant. So, after Si got down among
the boys and found how it really was, it was not long till his inside
was a volcano of rebellion that threatened serious results.

Si Falls out With his Food 055

When, therefore, Si lifted up his voice and cried aloud, and spared
not\x97when he said that he could get as good coffee as that furnished him
by dipping his cup into a tan-vat; when he said that the meat was not
good soap-grease, and that the potatoes and beans had not so much taste
and nutrition in them as so much pine-shavings, he was probably nearer
right than grumblers usually are.

"Give it to 'em, Si," his comrades would Say, when he turned up his loud
bazoo on the rations question. "They ought to get it ten times worse.
When we come out we expected that some of us would get shot by the
rebels, but we didn't calculate that we were going to be poisoned in
camp by a lot of dirty, lazy potwrastlers."

One morning after roll-call the Orderly-Sergeant came up to Si and said:

"There's been so much chin-music about this cooking-business that the
Captain's ordered the cooks to go back to duty, and after this
everybody'll have to take his regular turn at cooking. It'll be your
turn to-day, and you'll stay in camp and get dinner."

When Co. Q marched out for the forenoon drill. Si pulled off his blouse
and set down on a convenient log to think out how he should go to work.
Up to this time he had been quite certain that he knew all about cooking
that it was worth while to know. Just now none of his knowledge seemed
to be in usable shape, and the more he thought about it the less able he
seemed to be to decide upon any way of beginning. It had always appeared
very easy for his mother and sisters to get dinner, and on more than one
occasion he had reminded them how much better times they had staying in
the house cooking dinner than he had out in the harvest field keeping up
with the reaper. At this moment he would rather have kept up with the
fastest reaper in Posey County, on the hottest of July days, than to
have cooked the coarse dinner which his 75 comrades expected to be ready
for them when they returned, tired, hot and hungry, from the morning
drill.

Si Thinks It over 057

He went back to the barracks and inspected the company larder. He found
there the same old, coarse, greasy, strong, fat pork, a bushel or so of
beans, a few withered potatoes, sugar, coffee, bread, and a box of rice
which had been collected from the daily rations because none of the
cooks knew how to manage it. The sight of the South Carolina staple
recalled the delightful rice puddings his mother used to make. His heart
grew buoyant.

"Here's just the thing," he said. "I always was fond of rice, and I know
the boys will be delighted with it for a change. I know I can cook it;
for all that you've got to do is to put it in a pot with water and boil
it till it is done. I've seen mother do that lots o' times.

"Let's see," he said, pursuing his ruminations.

"I think each boy can eat about a cupful, so I'll put one for each of
'em in the kettle."

"There's one for Abner," he continued, pouring a cupful in for the first
name on the company-roll; "one for Acklin, one for Adams, one for
Barber, one for Brooks," and so on down through the whole well-known
list.

"It fills the old kettle tol'bly full," he remarked, as he scanned the
utensil after depositing the contribution for Williams, the last name on
the roll; "but I guess she'll stand it. I've heard mother tell the girls
that they must always keep the rice covered with water, and stir it
well, so that it wouldn't burn; so here goes. Won't the boys be
astonished when they have a nice mess of rice, as a change from that
rusty old side-meat!"

He hung the kettle on the fire and stepped out to the edge of the
parade-ground to watch the boys drilling. It was the first time he had
had the sensation of pleasure of seeing them at this without taking part
in it himself, and he began to think that he would not mind if he had to
cook most of the time. He suddenly remembered about his rice and hurried
back to find it boiling, bulging over the top like a small snowdrift.

The Trouble Begins 059

"I was afraid that kettle was a little too full," he said to himself,
hurrying off for another campkettle, in which he put about a third of
the contents of the first. "Now they're all right. And it'll cook better
and quicker in two than one. Great Scott! what's the matter? They're
both boiling over. There must be something wrong with that rice."

Pretty soon he had all the company kettles employed, and then all that
he could borrow from the other companies. But dip out as much as he
would there seemed no abatement in the upheaving of the snowy cereal,
and the kettles continued to foam over like so many huge glasses of soda
water. He rushed to his bunk and got his gum blanket and heaped upon it
a pile as big as a small haycock, but the mass in the kettle seemed
larger than it was before this was subtracted.

He sweat and dipped, and dipped and sweat; burned his hands into
blisters with the hot rice and hotter kettles, kicked over one of the
largest kettles in one of his spasmodic rushes to save a portion of the
food that was boiling over, and sent its white contents streaming over
the ground. His misery came to a climax as he heard the quick step of
his hungry comrades returning from drill.

"Right face; Arms a-port; Break ranks\x97March!" commanded the Orderly-
Sergeant, and there was a clatter of tin cups and plates as they came
rushing toward him to get their dinner\x97something to stay their ravenous
stomachs. There was a clamor of rage, ridicule, wrath and disappointment
as they took in the scene.

The Rice Gets the Bulge 061

"What's the matter here?" demanded the Captain, striding back to the
company fire. "You young rascal, is this the way you get dinner for your
comrades? Is this the way you attend to the duty for which you're
detailed? Waste rations in some fool experiment and scatter good food
all over the ground? Biler, put on your arms and take Klegg to the
guard-houae. I'll make you pay for this nonsense, sir, in a way that you
won't forget in a hurry, I'll be bound."

So poor Si marched to the guard-house, where he had to stay for 24
hours, as a punishment for not knowing, until he found out by this
experience, that rice would "s-well." The Captain wouldn't let him have
anything to eat except that scorched and half-cooked stuff cut of the
kettles, and Si thought he never wanted to see any more rice as long as
he lived.

Si Makes the Acquaintance of The Guard House 062

In the evening one of the boys took Si's blanket to him, thinking he
would want it to sleep in.

"I tell ye, pard, this is purty derned tough!" said Si as he wiped a
tear out of the southwest corner of his left eye with the sleeve of his
blouse. "I think the Cap'n's hard on a feller who didn't mean to do
nothin' wrong!" And Si looked as if he had lost all his interest in the
old flag, and didn't care a pinch of his burnt rice what became of the
Union.

His comrade "allowed" that it was hard, but supposed they, had got to
get used to such things. He said he heard the Captain say he would let
Si out the next day.



CHAPTER VII. IN THE AWKWARD SQUAD SI HAS MANY TRIBULATIONS LEARNING THE
MANUAL OP ARMS.

WHEN Si Klegg went into active service with Co. Q of the 200th Ind. his
ideas of drill and tactics were exceedingly vague. He knew that a
"drill" was something to make holes with, and as he understood that he
had been sent down South to make holes through people, he supposed
drilling had something to do with it. He handled his musket very much as
he would a hoe. A "platoon" might be something to eat, for all he knew.
He had a notion that a "wheel" was something that went around, and he
thought a "file" was a screeching thing that his father used once a year
to sharpen up the old buck saw.

The fact was that Si and his companions hardly had a fair shake in this
respect, and entered the field at a decided disadvantage. It had been
customary for a regiment to be constantly drilled for a month or two in
camp in its own State before being sent to the front; but the 200th was
rushed off to Kentucky the very day it was mustered in. This was while
the cold chills were running up and down the backs of the people in the
North on account of the threatened invasion by Bragg's army. The
regiment pushed after the fleeing rebels, but whenever Suell's army
halted to take breath, "Fall in for drill!" was shouted through its camp
three or four times a day. It was liable to be called into action at any
moment, and it was deemed indispensable to begin at once the process of
making soldiers out of those tender-footed Hoosiers, whose zeal and
patriotism as yet far exceeded their knowledge of military things. Most
of the officers of the 200th were as green as the men, though some of
them had seen service in other regiments; so, at first, officers and
non-commissioned officers who had been in the field a few months and
were considered veterans, and who knew, or thought they knew, all about
tactics that was worth knowing, were detailed from the old regiments to
put the boys through a course of sprouts in company and squad drill.

One morning three or four days after leaving Louisville, word was passed
around that the regiment would not move that day, and the boys were so
glad at the prospect of a day of rest that they wanted to get right up
and yell. Si was sitting on a log, with his shoes off, rubbing his
aching limbs and nursing his blisters, when the Orderly came along.

"Co. Q, be ready in 10 minutes to fall in for drill. Stir around, you
men, and get your traps on. Klegg, put on them gunboats, and be lively
about it."

"Orderly," said Si, looking as if he hadn't a friend on earth, "just
look at them blisters; I can't drill to-day!"

"You'll have to or go to the guard-house," was the reply. "You'd better
hustle yourself, too!"

Si couldn't think of anything to say that would do justice to his
feelings; and so, with wailing and gnashing of teeth, and a few muttered
words that he didn't learn in Sunday school, he got ready to take his
place in the company.

As a general combustion of powder by the armies of Buell and Bragg was
hourly expected, it was thought best for the 200th to learn first
something about shooting. If called suddenly into action it was believed
the boys could "git thar," though they had not yet mastered the science
of company and battalion evolutions. Co. Q was divided into squads of
eight for exercise in the manual of arms. The man who took Si's squad
was a grizzled Sergeant, who had been "lugging knapsack, box and gun"
for a year. He fully realized his important and responsible functions as
instructor of these innocent youths, having at the same time a supreme
contempt for their ignorance. "Attention, Squad!" and they all looked at
him in a way that meant business.

'right Shoulder Shift--arms!' 067

"Load in nine times\x97Load!"

Si couldn't quite understand what the "in" meant, but he had always been
handy with a shotgun, to the terror of the squirrels and coons up in
Posey County, and he thought he would show the Sergeant how spry he was.
So he rammed in a cartridge, put on a cap, held up his musket, and
blazed away, and then went to loading again as if his life depended upon
his activity. For an instant the Sergeant was speechless with amazement.
At length his tongue was loosened, and he roared out:

"What in the name of General Jackson are you doing, you measly idiot!
Who ordered you to load and fire your piece?"

"I\x97I th\x97thought you did!" said Si, trembling as if he had the Wabash
ague. "You said for us to load nine times. I thought nine loads would
fill 'er chuck full and bust 'er and I didn't see any way but to shute
'em oft as fast as I got 'em in."

"No, sir! I gave the command according to Hardee, 'Load\x97in\x97nine\x97times!'
and ef yer hadn't bin in such a hurry you'd 'a' found out what that
means. Yer'll git along a good deal faster ef you'll go slower. Yer
ought ter be made ter carry a rail, and a big one, for two hours."

Si protested that he was sorry, and didn't mean to, and wouldn't do so
again, and the drill went on. The master went through all the nine
"times" of "Handle\x97Cartridge!" "Draw\x97Rammer!" etc., each with its two or
three "motions." It seemed like nonsense to Si.

"Boss," said he, "I kin get 'er loaded in just half the time ef yer'll
let me do it my own way!"

"Silence!"' thundered the Sergeant. "If you speak another word I'll have
ye gagged 'n' tied up by the thumbs!"

Si had always been used to speaking right out when he had anything to
say, and had not yet got his "unruly member" under thorough subjection.
He saw that it wouldn't do to fool with the Drill Sergeant, however, and
he held his peace. But Si kept thinking that if he got into a fight he
would ram in the cartridge and fire them out as fast as he could,
without bothering his head about the "one time and three motions."

'fix--bayonets!' 069

"Order\x97Arms!" commanded the Sergeant, after he had explained how it was
to be done. Si brought his gun down along with the rest like a pile-
driver, and it landed squarely on the foot of the man next to him.

Brought his Gun Down on the Man's Foot 065

"Ou-ou-ouch!" remarked the victim of Si's inexperience.

"Didn't do it a'purpose, pard," said Si compassionately; "'pon my word I
didn't. I'll be more keerful after this."

His suffering comrade, in very pointed language, urged upon Si the
propriety of exercising a little more care. He determined that he would
manage to get some other fellow to stand next to Si after that.

"Shoulder\x97Arms!" ordered the Sergeant, and the guns came straggling up
into position. Then, after a few words of instruction, "Right shoulder
shift\x97Arms!"

"Don't you know your right shoulder?" said the Sergeant, with a good
deal of vinegar in his tone, to Si, who had his gun on the "larboard"
side, as a sailor would say.

"Beg yer pardon," said Si; "I always was lefthanded. I'll learn if yer
only gimme a show!"

"Silence!" again roared the Sergeant. "One more word, sir, and I will
tie ye up, fer a fact!"

The Sergeant got his squad down to an "order arms" again, and then,
after showing them how, he gave the order, "Fix\x97Bayonets!"

There was the usual clicking and clattering, during which Si dexterously
managed to stick his bayonet into the eye of his comrade, whose toes
were still aching from the blow of the butt of Si's musket. Si assured
him he was sorry, and that it was all a mistake, but his comrade thought
the limit of patience had been passed. So he confidently informed Si
that as soon as drill was over he was going to "pound the stuffin'" out
of him, and there wouldn't be any mistake about it, either.

When the hour was up the Captain of the company came around to see how
the boys were getting along. The upshot of it was that poor Si was
immediately organized into an "awkward squad" all by himself, and
drilled an extra hour.

"We'll see, Mr. Klegg," said the Captain, "if you can't learn to handle
your arms without mashing the toes and stabbing the eyes out of the rest
of the company."



CHAPTER VIII. ON COMPANY DRILL SI GETS TANGLED IN THE MAZES OF THE
EVOLUTIONS.

"ALL in for company drill!"

These words struck the unwilling ears of Co. Q, 200th Ind., the next
time Buell halted his army to draw a long breath.

"Wish somebody would shoot that durned Orderly," muttered Si Klegg. "For
two cents I'd do it myself."

"Don't do it, Si," admonished Shorty, "They'd git another one that'd be
just as bad. All orderlies are cusses."

Si believed it would be a case of justifiable homicide, and, if the
truth must be told, this feeling was largely shared by the other members
of the company. For more than a week the boys had been tramping over a
"macadamized" Kentucky pike. Feet were plentifully decorated with
blisters, legs were stiff and sore, and joints almost refused to perform
their functions.

It had rained nearly all the previous day, and the disgusted Hoosiers of
the 200th went sloshing along, wet to the skin, for 20 dreary miles.
With that diabolical care and method that were generally practiced at
such times, the Generals selected the worst possible locations for the
camps. The 200th was turned into a cornfield, where the men sank over
their shoetops in mud, and were ordered to bivouac for the night. The
wagons didn't get up at all. How they passed the slowly-dragging hours
of that dismal night will not be told at this time. Indeed, bare mention
is enough to recall the scene to those who have "been there."

Don't Care a Continental 073

In the morning, when the company was ordered out for drill, Si Klegg was
standing before the sputtering fire trying to dry his steaming clothes,
every now and then turning around to give the other side a chance. The
mercury in his individual thermometer had fallen to a very low point\x97in
fact, it was a cold day for Si's patriotism. He had reached that stage,
not by any means infrequent among the soldiers, when he "didn't care
whether school kept or not."

"Well, Si, I s'pose you love your country this mornin'!" said Shorty. He
was endeavoring to be cheerful under adverse circumstances.

"I ain't quite as certain about it," said Si, reflectively, "as I was
when I left home, up in Posey County. I'm afeared I haven't got enough
of it to last me through three years of this sort of thing!"

Si felt at that moment as though he was of no account for anything,
unless it was to be decked with paint and feathers and stood for a sign
in front of a cigar store.

The rain had ceased, and the Colonel of the 200th felt that he must,
like the busy bee, "improve each shining hour" in putting his command
into condition for effective service. So he told the Adjutant to have
the companies marched over to an adjacent pasture for drill.

"Attention, Co. Q!" shouted the Captain, after the Orderly had got the
boys limbered up enough to get into ranks. The Captain didn't know very
much about drilling himself, but he had been reading up "Hardee," and
thought he could handle the company; but it was a good deal like the
blind trying to lead the blind.

"Right\x97Face!"

Not quite half the men faced the wrong way, turning to the left instead
of the right, which was doing pretty well for a starter.

"Get around there, Klegg, and the rest of you fellows! Can't ye ever
learn anything."

'right--face!' 075

Si was so particularly awkward that the Captain put him at the tail-end
of the company. Then he tried the right face again, and as the boys
seemed to get around in fair shape he commanded:

"Right shoulder shift arms! Forward\x97March!"

The company started off; but the Captain was not a little surprised, on
looking back, to see Si marching: off in the opposite direction. He had
faced the wrong way again, and, as he didn't see the others, he thought
he was all right, and away he went on his own hook, till a shout from
the Captain told him of his mistake.

'forward--march!' 076

When the Captain reached the field which was the drill-ground for the
day, he thought he would try a wheel. After a brief lecture to the
company on the subject he gave the command for the movement.

'company--right Wheel!' 077

It is scarcely necessary to say that the first trial was a sad failure.
The line bulged out in the center, and the outer flank, unable to keep
up, fell behind, the company assuming nearly the shape of a big letter
C. Then the boys on the outer end took the double-quick, cutting across
the arc of the proper circle, which soon resulted in a hopeless wreck of
the whole company. The Captain halted the chaotic mass of struggling
men, and with the help of the Orderly finally succeeded in getting them
straightened out and into line again. The men had often seen practiced
soldiers going through this most difficult of all tactical movements,
and it seemed easy enough; they didn't see why they couldn't do it just
as well as the other fellows. They kept at it, and in the course of half
an hour had improved so much that they could swing around in some kind
of shape without the line breaking to pieces.



CHAPTER IX. SI GETS A LETTER AND WRITES ONE TO PRETTY ANNABEL, UNDER
DIFFICULTIES.

"COMPANY Q, tumble up here and git yer mail!" shouted the Orderly one
afternoon, soon after the 200th Ind. turned into a tobacco patch to
bivouac for the night. It had been two weeks since the regiment left
Louisville, and this was the first mail that had caught up with it.

It seemed to the boys as if they had been away from home a year. For a
whole fortnight they hadn't heard a word from their mothers, or sisters,
or their "girls." Si Klegg couldn't have felt more lonesome and forsaken
if he had been Robinson Crusoe.

In the excitement of distributing the mail everything else was
forgotten.. The boys were all getting their suppers, but at the thought
of letters from home even hunger had to take a back seat.

Si left his coffee-pot to tip over into the fire, and his bacon sizzling
in the frying-pan, as he elbowed his way into the crowd that huddled
around the Orderly.

"If there ain't more'n one letter for me," said Si softly to himself, "I
hope it'll be from Annabel; but, of course, I'd like to hear from Ma and
sister Marier, too!"

The Orderly, with a big package of letters in his hand, was calling out
the names, and as the boys received their letters they distributed
themselves through the camp, squatting about on rails or on the ground,
devouring with the greatest avidity the welcome messages from home. The
camp looked as if there had been a snowstorm.

Si waited anxiously to hear his name called as the pile letters rapidly
grew smaller, and he began to think he was going to get left.

"Josiah Klegg!" at length shouted the Orderly, as he held out two
letters. Si snatched them from his hand, went off by himself, and sat
down on a log.

Si looked at his letters and saw that one of them was addressed in a
pretty hand. He had never received a letter from Annabel before, but he
"felt it in his bones" that this one was from her. He glanced around to
be certain nobody was looking at him, and gently broke the seal, while a
ruddy glow overspread his beardless cheeks. But he was secure from
observation, as everybody else was similarly intent.

"Dear Si," the letter began. He didn't have to turn over to the bottom
of the last page to know what name he would find there. He read those
words over and over a dozen times, and they set his nerves tingling
clear down to his toe-nails. Si forgot his aches and blisters as he read
on through those delicious lines.

It's from Annabel 081

She wrote how anxious she was to hear from him and how cruel it was of
him not to write to her real often; how she lay awake nights thinking
about him down among those awful rebels; how she supposed that by this
time he must be full of bullet-holes; and didn't he ge' hungry
sometimes, and wasn't it about time for him to get a furlough? how it
was just too mean for anything that those men down South had to get up a
war; how proud she was of Si because he had 'listed, and how she watched
the newspapers every day to find some thing about him; how she wondered
how many rebels he had killed, and if he had captured any batteries
yet\x97she said she didn't quite know what batteries were, but she read a
good deal about capturing 'em, and she supposed it was something all the
soldiers did; how she hoped he wouldn't forget her, and she'd like to
see how he looked, now that he was a real soldier, and her father had
sold the old "mooley" cow, and Sally Perkins was engage to Jim Johnson,
who had stayed at home, and as for herself she wouldn't have anybody but
a soldier about the size of Si, and 'Squire Jones's son had been trying
to shine up to her and cut Si out, but she sent him off with a flea in
his ear.

"Yours till deth, Annabel."

The fact that there was a word misspelt now and then did not detract in
the least from the letter, so pleasing to Si. In fact, he was a little
lame in orthography himself, so that he had neither the ability nor the
disposition to scan Annabel's pages with a critic's eye. Si was happy,
and as he began to cast about for his supper he even viewed with
complacence his bacon burned to a crisp and his capsized coffee-pot
helplessly melting away in the fire.

"Well, Si, what does she say?" said his friend Shorty.

"What does who say?" replied Si, getting red in the face, and bristling
up and trying to assume an air of indifference.

"Just look here now. Si," said Shorty, "you can't play that on me. How
about that rosy-cheeked girl up in Posey County?"

It was Si's tender spot. He hadn't got used to that sort of thing yet,
and he felt that the emotions that made his heart throb like a sawmill
were too sacred to be fooled with. Impelled by a sudden impulse he smote
Shorty fairly between the eyes, felling him to the ground.

The Orderly, who happened to be near, took Si by the ear and marched him
up to the Captain's quarters.

"Have him carry a rail in front of my tent for an hour!" thundered the
Captain. "Don't let it be a splinter, either; pick out a good, heavy
one. And, Orderly, detail a guard to keep Mr. Klegg moving."

Si Carries a Rail 083

Of course, it was very mortifying to Si, and he would have been almost
heartbroken had he not been comforted by the thought that it was all for
her! At first he felt as if he would like to take that rail and charge
around and destroy the whole regiment; but, on thinking it over, he made
up his mind that discretion was the better part of valor.

As soon as Si's hour was up, and he had eaten supper and "made up" with
Shorty, he set about answering his letter. When, on his first march, Si
cleaned out all the surplusage from his knapsack, he had hung on to a
pretty portfolio that his sister gave him. This was stocked with postage
stamps and writing materials, including an assortment of the envelopes
of the period, bearing in gaudy colors National emblems, stirring
legends, and harrowing scenes of slaughter, all intended to stimulate
the patriotic impulses and make the breast of the soldier a very volcano
of martial ardor.

When Si got out his nice portfolio he found it to be an utter wreck. It
had been jammed into a shapeless mass, and, besides this, it had been
soaked with rain; paper and envelopes were a pulpy ruin, and the postage
stamps were stuck around here and there in the chaos. It was plain that
this memento of home had fallen an early victim to the hardships of
campaign life, and that its days of usefulness were over.

"It's no use; 'tain't any good," said Si sorrowfully, as he tossed the
debris into the fire, after vainly endeavoring to save from the wreck
enough to carry, out his epistolary scheme.

Then he went to the sutler\x97or "skinner," as he was better known\x97and paid
10 cents for a sheet of paper and an envelope, on which were the
cheerful words, "It is sweet to die for one's country!" and 10 cents
more for a 3-cent postage stamp. He borrowed a leadpencil, hunted up a
piece of crackerbox, and sat down to his work by the flickering light of
the fire. Si wrote:

"Deer Annie."

There he stopped, and while he was scratching his head and thinking what
he would say next the Orderly came around detailing guards for the
night, and directed Klegg to get his traps and report at once for duty.

Si Writes to 'deer Annie.' 085

"It hain't my turn," said Si. "There's Bill Brown, and Jake Schneider,
and Pat Dooley, and a dozen more\x97I've been since they have!"

But the Orderly did not even deign to reply. Si remembered the guard-
house, and his shoulder still ached from the rail he had carried that
evening; so he quietly folded up his paper and took his place with the
detail.

The next morning the army moved early, and Si had no chance to resume
his letter. As soon as the regiment halted, after an 18-mile march, he
tackled it again. This time nothing better offered in the way of a
writing-desk than a tin plate, which he placed face downward upon his
knee. Thus provided, Si plunged briskly into the job before him, with
the following result:

"I now take my pen in hand to let you know that I am well, except the
doggoned blisters on my feet, and I hope these few lines may find you
enjoying the same blessings."

Si thought this was neat and a good start for his letter. Just as he had
caught an idea for the next sentence a few scattering shots were heard
on the picket-line, and in an instance the camp was in commotion. "Tall
in!" "Be lively, men!" were heard on every hand.

Si sprang as if he had received a galvanic shock, cramming the letter
into his pocket. Of course, there wasn't any fight. It was only one of
the scares that formed so large a part of that campaign. But it spoiled
Si's letter-writing for the time.

It was nearly a week before he got his letter done. He wrote part of it
using for a desk the back of a comrade who was sitting asleep by the
fire. He worked at it whenever he could catch a few minutes between the
marches and the numerous details for guard, picket, fatigue and other
duty. He said to Annie:

An Army Writing-desk 087

"Bein' a soljer aint quite what they crack it up to be when they're
gittin' a fellow to enlist. It's mity rough, and you'd better believe
it. You ought to be glad you're a gurl and don't haf to go. I wish't I
was a gurl sometimes. I haven't kild enny rebbles yet. I hain't even
seen one except a fiew raskils that was tuk in by the critter soljers,
they calls em cavilry. Me and all the rest of the boys wants to hav a
fite, but it looks like Ginral Buil was afeared, and we don't git no
chance. I axed the Ordly couldn't he get me a furlow. The Ordly jest
laft and says to me, Si, says he, yer don't know as much as a mule. The
Capt'n made me walk up and down for an hour with a big rail on my
sholder.

"You tell Squire Joneses boy that he haint got sand enuff to jine the
army, and if he don't keep away from you I'll bust his eer when I git
home, if I ever do. Whattle you do if I shouldn't ever see you agin? But
you no this glorus Govyment must be pertected, and the bully Stars and
Strips must flote, and your Si is goin to help do it.

"My pen is poor, my ink is pale, My luv for you shall never fale.

"Yours, aflfeckshnitly, Si Klegg."



CHAPTER X. SI AND THE DOCTORS HE JOINS THE PALE PROCESSION AT SICK-CALL.

SI KLEGG was a good specimen of a healthy, robust Hoosier lad\x97for he
could scarcely be called' a man yet. Since he lay in his cradle and was
dosed with paregoric and catnip tea like other babies, he had never seen
a sick day, except when he had the mumps on "both sides" at once. He had
done all he could to starve the doctors.

When the 200th Ind. took the field it had the usual outfit of men who
wrote their names sandwiched between a military title in front and "M.
D." behind, a big hospital tent, and an apothecary shop on wheels,
loaded to the guards with quinine, blue-mass, castor oil, epsom salts,
and all other devices to assuage the sufferings of humanity.

The boys all started out in good shape, and there had been hardly time
for them to get sick much yet. So up to this stage of the regiment's
history the doctors had found little to do but issue arnica and salve
for lame legs and blistered feet, and strut around in their shiny
uniforms.

But there came a day when they had all they could attend to. On going
into camp one afternoon, the regiment, well in advance, struck a big
field of green corn and an orchard of half-ripe apples. Of course, the
boys sailed in, and natural consequences followed.

"Now this is something like!" said Si, as he squatted on the ground
along with Shorty and half a dozen messmates. They surrounded a camp-
kettle full of steaming ears and half a bushel or so of apples heaped on
a poncho.

"Wish we had some o' mother's butter to grease this corn with," observed
Si, as he flung a cob into the fire and seized a fresh ear.

All agreed that Si's head was level on the butter question, but under
all the circumstances of the case they were glad enough to have the com
without butter.

The ears went off with amazing rapidity. Every man seemed to be afraid
he wouldn't get his share. When the kettle was empty the boys turned
themselves loose on the apples, utterly reckless of results. So, they
were filled full, and were thankful.

When Si got up he burst off half the buttons on his clothes. He looked
as if he was carrying a bass-drum in front of him. After he began to
shrink he had to tie up his clothes with a string until he had a chance
to repair damages. But during the next 24 hours he had something else to
think of.

In fact, it wasn't long till Si began to wish he had eaten an ear of
corn and an apple or two less. He didn't feel very well. He turned in
early, thinking he would go to sleep and be all right in the morning.

Along in the night he uttered a yell that came near stampeding the
company. An enormous colic was raging around in his interior, and Si
fairly howled with pain. He thought he was going: to die right away.

Laying the Foundation 091

"Shorty," said he, between the gripes, to his comrade, "I'm afeared I'm
goin' to peter out. After I'm gone you write to\x97to\x97Annie and tell her I
died for my country like a man. I'd ruther been shot than die with the
colic, but I 'spose 'twont make much difference after it's all over!" 9
"I'll do it," replied Shorty. "We'll plant you in good shape; and Si,
we'll gather up the corn-cobs and build a monument over you!"

But Si wasn't cut off in the bloom of youth by that colic. His eruptive
condition frightened Shorty, however, and though he was in nearly as bad
shape himself, he went up and routed out one of the doctors, who growled
a good deal about being disturbed.

The debris of the supper scattered about the camp told him what was the
matter, and he had no need to make a critical diagnosis of Si's case. He
gave him a dose of something or other that made the pain let up a
little, and Si managed to rub along through the night.

Fortunately for Si, and for more than half the members of the regiment,
the army did not move next day, and the doctors had a good opportunity
to get in their work.

At the usual hour in the morning the bugle blew the "sick-call." A
regiment of tanned and grizzled veterans from Ohio lay next to the 200th
Ind., and as Si lay there he heard them take up the music:

"Git yer qui-nine! Git yer qui-nine! Tumble up you sick and lame and
blind; Git a-long right smart, you'll be left be-hind."

"Fall in fer yer ipecac!" shouted the Orderly of Co. Q. Si joined the
procession and went wabbling up to the "doctor's" shop. He was better
than he had been during the night, but still looked a good deal
discouraged.

It was a regular matinee that day. The Surgeon and his assistants were
all on hand, as the various squads, colicky and cadaverous, came to a
focus in front of the tent.

A Rude Awakening 093

The doctors worked off the patients at a rapid rate, generally
prescribing the same medicine for all, no matter what ailed them. This
was the way the army doctors always did, but it happened in this case
that they were not far wrong, as the ailments, arising from a common
cause, were much the same.

Si waited till his turn came, and received his rations from the Hospital
Steward. Of course, he was excused from duty for the day, and as he
speedily recovered his normal condition he really had a good time.

Visits the Doctor 094

A few days after this the whole regiment was ordered on fatigue duty to
repair an old corduroy road. Si didn't want to go, and "played off." He
told the Orderly he wasn't able to work, but the Orderly said he would
have to shoulder an ax or a shovel, unless he was excused by the doctor.
He went up at sick-call and made a wry face, with his hands clasped over
his body in the latitude of his waistband.

The doctor gave him a lot of blue-mass pills, which Si threw into the
fire as soon as he got back to his quarters. Then he played seven-up all
day with Shorty, who had learned before Si did how to get a day off when
he wanted it.

Si thought it was a great scheme, but he tried it once too often. The
doctor "caught on," and said, the next time Si went up, that castor oil
was what he needed to fetch him around. So he poured out a large dose
and made Si take it right then and there.

The next time fatigue duty was ordered Si thought he felt well enough to
go along with the boys.



CHAPTER XI. THE PLAGUE OF THE SOLDIER INTRODUCTION TO "ONE WHO STICKETH
CLOSER THAN A BROTHER."

"HELLO Si; goin' for a soljer, ain't ye?"

"You bet!"

"Wall, you'd better b'lieve its great fun; it's jest a picnic all the
time! But, say, Si, let's see yer finger-nails!"

"I'd like ter know what finger-nails 's got to do with soljerin'!" said
Si. "The 'cruitin' ossifer 'n' the man 't keeps the doctor shop made me
shuck myself, 'n' then they 'xamined my teeth, 'n' thumped me in the
ribs, 'n' rubbed down my legs, 'n' looked at my hoofs, same 's if 'I'd
bin a hoss they wuz buyin', but they didn't say nothin' 'bout my finger-
nails."

"You jest do 's I tell ye; let 'em grow, 'n' keep 'em right sharp. Ye'll
find plenty o' use fer 'em arter a while, 'n' 'twont be long, nuther. I
know what I'm talkin' 'bout; I've been thar!"

This conversation took place a day or two before Si bade farewell to his
mother and sister Marier and pretty Annabel and left the peaceful
precincts of Posey County to march away with the 200th Ind. for that
awful place vaguely designated as "the front!" He had promptly responded
to the call, and his name was near the top of the list of Company Q.

'let Yer Nails Grow; Ye'll Need 'em' 097

Si already had his blue clothes on. By enlisting early he had a good
pick of the various garments, and so got a suit that fitted his
form\x97which was plump as an apple-dumpling tolerably well. It was left
for the tail-enders of the company to draw trousers that were six inches
too long or too short, and blouses that either wouldn't reach around,
and left yawning chasms in front, or were so large that they looked as
if they were hung on bean-poles.

Of course, Si couldn't be expected to do any more plodding farm work,
now that he had "jined" the army. While the company was filling up he
spent most of his time on dress parade in the village near by, eliciting
admiring smiles from all the girls, and an object of the profoundest awe
and wonder to tha small boys.

One day Si was sitting on the sugar-barrel in the corner grocery,
gnawing a "blind robin," and telling how he thought the war wouldn't
last long after the 200th Ind. got down there and took a hand and got
fairly interested in the game; they would wind it up in short meter.
Such ardent emotions always seethed and bubbled in the swelling breasts
of the new troops when they came down to show the veterans just how to
do it.

One of the town boys who had been a year in the service, had got a
bullet through his arm in a skirmish, and was at home on furlough, came
into the store, and then took place the dialog between him and Si that
opens this chapter.

Si wondered a good deal what the veteran meant about the finger-nails.
He did not even know that there existed in any nature a certain active
and industrious insect which, before he had been in the army a great
while, would cause his heart to overflow with gratitude to a beneficent
Providence for providing him with nails on his fingers.

When the 200th left Indiana all the boys had, of course, brand-new
outfits right from Uncle Sam's great one-price clothing house. Their
garments were nice and clean, their faces well washed, and their hair
yet showed marks of the comb. At Louisville they stuck up their noses,
with a lofty consciousness of superiority, at the sight of Buell's
tanned and ragged tramps, who had just come up on the gallop from
Tennessee and northern Alabama.

'say, Cap, What Kind O' Bug is This?' 099

If the new Hoosier regiment had been quartered for a while in long-used
barracks, or had pitched its tents in an old camp, Si would very soon
have learned, in the school of experience, the delightful uses of
finger-nails. But the 200th stayed only a single night in Louisville and
then joined the procession that started on the chase after the rebel
army. It generally camped on new ground, and under these circumstances
the insect to which allusion has been made did not begin its work of
devastation with that suddenness that usually marked its attack upon
soldiers entering the field. But he never failed to "git there" sooner
or later, and it was more frequently sooner than later.

One afternoon, when a few days out on this march, a regiment of
Wisconsin veterans bivouacked next to the 200th Ind. The strange antics
as they threw off their accouterments attracted Si's attention.

"Look a' thar," he said to Shorty. "What 'n name of all the prophets 's
them fellers up to?"

"Seems like they was scratchin' theirselves!"

"I s'pose that's on account of the dust 'n' sweat," said Si.

"It's a mighty sight worse 'n that!" replied Shorty, who knew more about
these things than Si did. "I reckon we'll all be doin' like they are
'fore long."

Si whistled softly to himself as he watched the Wisconsin boys. They
were hitching and twisting their shoulders about, evidently enjoying the
friction of the clothing upon their skins. There was a general
employment of fingers, and often one would be seen getting come other
fellow to scratch his back around where he couldn't reach himself. If
everybody was too busy to do this for him he would back up to a tree and
rub up and down against the bark.

Life has few pleasures that can equal the sensations of delightful
enjoyment produced in those days, when graybacks were plenty, by rubbing
against a tree that nicely fitted the hollow of the back, after throwing
off one's "traps" at the end of a day's march.

Directly the Wisconsin chaps began to scatter into the woods. Si watched
them as they got behind the trees and threw off their blouses and
shirts. He thought at first that perhaps they were going in swimming,
but there was no stream of water at hand large enough to justify this
theory in explanation of their nudity. As each man set down, spread his
nether garment over his knees and appeared to be intently engaged, with
eyes and fingers. Si's curiosity was very much excited.

"Looks 's if they wuz all mendin' up their shirts and sewin' on
buttons," said Si, "Guess it's part o' their regular drill, ain't it,
Shorty?"

Shorty laughed at Si's ignorant simplicity. He knew what those veterans
were doing, and he knew that Si would have to come to it, but he didn't
want to shock his tender sensibilities by telling him of it.

"Them fellers ain't sewin' on no buttons. Si," he replied; "they're
skirmishin'."

"Skirmishin'!" exclaimed Si, opening his eyes very wide. "I haint seen
any signs o' rebs 'round here, 'n' there aint any shootin' goin' on,
'nless I've lost my hearin'. Durned if 't aint the funniest skirmishin'
I ever hearn tell of!"

"Now, don't ax me nuthin' more 'bout it, Si," said Shorty. "All I'm
goin' to tell ye is that the longer ye live the more ye'll find things
out. Let's flax 'round 'n' git supper!"

A little while after, as Si was squatting on the ground holding the
frying-pan over the fire, he saw a strange insect vaguely wandering
about on the sleeve of his blouse. It seemed to be looking for
something, and Si became interested as he watched it traveling up and
down his arm. He had never seen one like it before, and he thought he
would like to know what it was. He would have asked Shorty, but his
comrade had gone to the spring for water. Casting his eye around he saw
the Captain, who chanced to be sauntering through the camp.

The Captain of Co. Q had been the Principal of a seminary in Posey
County, and was looked upon with awe by the simple folk as a man who
knew about all that was worth knowing. Si thought he might be able to
tell him all about the harmless's-looking little stranger.

So he put down his frying-pan and stepped up to the Captain, holding out
his arm and keeping his eye on the insect so that he shouldn't get away.

"Good evenin', Cap.," said Si, touching his hat, and addressing him with
that familiar disregard of official dignity that characterised the
average volunteer, who generally felt that he was just as good as
anybody who wore shoulder straps.

"Good evening, Klegg," said the Captain, returning the salute.

"Say, Cap, you've been ter collidge 'n' got filled up with book-larnin';
p'raps ye kin tell me what kind o' bug this is. I'm jest a little bit
curious to know."

And Si pointed to the object of his inquiry that was leisurely creeping
toward a hole in the elbow of his outer garment.

"Well, Josiah," said the Captain, after a brief inspection, "I presume I
don't know quite as much as some people think I do; but I guess I can
tell you something about that insect. I never had any of them myself,
but I've read of them."

"Never had 'em himself," thought Si. "What 'n the world does ha mean?"
And Si's big eyes opened with wonder and fear at the thought that
whatever it was he had "got 'em."

"I suppose," continued the Captain, "you would like to know the
scientific name?"

"I reck'n that'll do 's well 's any."

"Well, sir, that is a Pediculus. That's a Latin word, but it's his
name."

"Purty big name fer such a leetle bug, ain't it, Perfessor?" observed
Si. "Name's big enough for an el'fant er a 'potamus."

'skirmishing' 103

"It may seem so, Klegg; but when you get intimately acquainted with him
I think you will find that his name isn't any too large for him. There
is a good deal more of him than you think."

The young soldier's eyes opened still wider.

"I was going on to tell you," continued the Captain, "that there are
several kinds of Pediculi\x97we don't say Pediculuses. There is the
Pediculus Capitis\x97Latin again\x97but it means the kind that lives on the
head. I presume when you were a little shaver your mother now and then
harrowed your head with a fine-tooth comb?"

"Ya-as" said Si; "she almost took the hide off sometimes, an' made me
yell like an Injun."

"Now, Klegg, I don't wish to cause you unnecessary alarm, but I will say
that the head insect isn't a circumstance to this one on your arm. As
you would express it, perhaps, he can't hold a candle to him. This
fellow is the Pediculus Corporis!"

"I s'pose that means they eats up Corporals!" said Si.

"I do not think the Pediculus Corporis confines himself exclusively to
Corporals, as his name might indicate," said the Captain, laughing at
Si's literal translation and his personal application of the word. "He
no doubt likes a juicy and succulent Corporal, but I don't believe he is
any respecter of persons. That's my opinion, from what I've heard about
him. It is likely that I 'will be able to speak more definitely, from
experience, after a while. Corporis means that he is the kind that
pastures on the human body. But there's one thing more about this
fellow, some call him Pediculus Vestimenti; that is because he lives
around in the clothing."

"But we don't wear no vests," said Si, taking a practical view of this
new word; "nothin' but blouses, 'n' pants, 'n' shirts."

"You are too literal, Klegg. That word means any kind of clothes. But I
guess I've told you as much about him as you care to know at present. If
you want any more information, after two or three weeks, come and see me
again. I think by that time you will not find it necessary to ask any
more questions."

Si went back to his cooking, with the Pediculus still on his arm. He
wanted to show it to Shorty. The Captain's profound explanation, with
its large words, was a little too much for Si. He did not yet clearly
comprehend the matter, and as he walked thoughtfully to where Shorty was
"bilin'" the coffee he was trying to get through his head what it all
meant.

"Hello, Si," said Shorty; "whar ye bin? What d'ye mean, goin' off 'n'
leavin' yer sowbelly half done?"

"Sh-h!" replied Si. "Ye needn't git yer back up about it. Bin talkin' to
the Cap'n. Shorty, look at that 'ere bug!"

And Si pointed to the object of the Captain's lecture on natural history
that was still creeping on his arm. Shorty slapped his thigh and burst
into a loud laugh.

"Was that what ye went to see the Cap'n 'bout?" he asked as soon as he
could speak.

"Why\x97ya-as," replied Si, somewhat surprised at Shorty's unseemly levity.
"I saw that thing crawlin' round, 'n' I was a-wonderin' what it was, fer
I never seen one afore. I knowed Cap was a scolard, 'n' a perfesser, 'n'
all that 'n' I 'lowed he c'd tell me all about it. So I went 'n' axed
him."

"What'd he tell ye?"

"He told me lots o' big, heathenish words, 'n' said this bug was a
ridiculous, or suthin' like that."

"'Diculus be blowed!" said Shorty, "The ole man was a'stuffin' ye. I'll
tell ye what that is, Si," he added solemnly, "that's a grayback!"

"A grayback!" said Si. "I've hearn 'em call the Johnnies graybacks, but
I didn't know 's there was any other kind."

"I reck'n 'twont be long, now, till yer catches on ter the meanin' ol
what a grayback is. Ye'll know all 'bout it purty sudden. This ain't the
first one I ever seen."

Si was impressed, as he had often been before, by Shorty's superior
wisdom and experience.

"See here. Si," Shorty continued, as his eye suddenly lighted up with a
brilliant thought, "I guess I kin make ye understand what a grayback is.
What d'ye call that coat ye've got on?"

"Why, that's a fool question; it's a blouse, of course!"

"Jesso!" said Shorty. "Now, knock off the fust letter o' that word, 'n'
see what ye got left!"

Si looked at Shorty as if he thought his conundrums were an indication
of approaching idiocy. Then he said, half to himself:

"Let's see! Blouse\x97blouse\x97take off the 'b' 'n' she spells l-o-u-s-e,
louse! Great Scott, Shorty, is that a louse?"

"That's jest the size of it. Si. Ye'll have millions of 'em 'fore the
war's over 'f they don't hurry up the cakes."

Si looked as if he would like to dig a hole in the ground, get into it,
and have Shorty cover him up.

"Why didn't the Cap'n tell me it was that? He said suthin' about
ridiculus corporalis, and I thought he was makin' fun o' me. He said
these bugs liked to eat fat Corporals.'

"I reck'n that's so," replied Shorty; "but they likes other people jest
as well\x97even a skinny feller like me. They lunches off'n privits, 'n'
Corp'rils, 'n' Kurnals, 'n' Gin'rals, all the same. They ain't satisfied
with three square meals a day, nuther; they jest eats right along all
the time 'tween regular meals. They allus gits hungry in the night, too,
and chaws a feller up while he sleeps. They don't give ye no show at
all. I rayther think the graybacks likes the ossifers best if they could
have their ch'ice, 'cause they's fatter 'n the privits; they gits better
grub."

Si fairly turned pale as he contemplated the picture so graphically
portrayed by Shorty. The latter's explanation was far more effectual in
letting the light in upon Si's mind than the scientific disquisition of
the "Perfesser." He had now a pretty clear idea of what a "grayback"
was. Whatever he lacked to make his knowledge complete was soon supplied
in the regular way. But Si was deeply grieved and shocked at what Shorty
had told him. It was some minutes before he said anything more.

"Shorty," he said, with a sadness in his tone that would almost have
moved a mule to tears, "who'd a-thought rd ever git as low down 's this,
to have them all-fired graybacks, 's ye call 'em, crawlin' over me.
How'd mother feel if she knew about 'em. She wouldn't sleep a wink fer a
month!"

"Ye'll have to come to it. Si. All the soljers does, from the Major-
Gin'rals down to the tail-end of the mule-whackers. Ye mind them
'Sconsin chaps we was lookin' at a little bit ago?"

"Yes," said Si.

"Well, graybacks was what ailed 'em. The fellers with their shirts on
their knees was killin' 'em off. That's what they calls 'skirmishin'.
There's other kinds o' skirmishing besides fitin' rebels! Ye'd better
git rid of that one on yer arm, if he hasn't got inside already; then
there'll be one less of 'em."

Si found him after a short search, and proposed to get a chip, carry him
to the fire and throw him in.

"Naw!" said Shorty in disgust, "that's no way. Lemme show yer how!"

'naw! Lemme Show Ye How!' 107

Shorty placed one thumb-nail on each side of the insect. There was a
quick pressure, a snap like the crack of a percussion cap, and all was
over.

Si shuddered, and wondered if he could ever engage in such a work of
slaughter.

"D'ye s'pose," he said to Shorty, "that there's any more of 'em on me?"
And he began to hitch his shoulders about, and to feel a desire to put
his fingers to active use.

"Shouldn't wonder," replied Shorty. "Mebbe I've got 'em, to. Let's go
out'n do a little skirmishin' ourselves."

"We'd better go off a good ways," said Si, "so's the boys won't see us."

"You're too nice and pertickler for a soljer. Si. They'll all be doin'
it, even the Cap'n himself, by termorrer or nex' day."

They went out back of the camp, where Si insisted on getting behind the
largest tree he could find. Then they sat down and engaged in that
exciting chase of the Pediculus up and down the seams of their garments,
so familiar to all who wore either the blue or the gray. Thousands of
nice young men who are now preachers and doctors and lawyers and
statesmen, felt just as bad about it at first as Si did.

"Shorty," said Si, as they slowly walked back to eat their supper, which
had been neglected in the excitement of the hour, "before Co. Q left
Posey County to jine the rigiment a feller 't was home on furlow told me
ter let my finger-nails grow long 'n' sharp. He said I'd need 'em. I
didn't know what he meant then, but I b'lieve I do now."



CHAPTER XII. A WET NIGHT THE DEPRAVITY OF AN ARMY TENT REVEALS ITSELF.

NIGHT threw her dark mantle over the camp of the 200th Ind. The details
of guard and picket had been made. Videts, with sleepless eye and
listening ear, kept watch and ward on the outposts, while faithful
sentries trod their beats around the great bivouac. All day the army had
marched, and was to take the road again at an early hour in the morning.
Supper had been eaten, and the tired soldiers were gathered around the
campfires that gleamed far and near through the darkness.

"Si," said Shorty to his chum as they sat on a log beside the dying
embers, "how d'ye like soldierin', as fur as ye've got?"

"It's purty hard business," said Si, reflectively, "an' I s'pose we
haint seen the worst on it yet, either, from what I've hearn tell. Pity
the men that got up this war can't be made to do all the trampin' 'n'
fitin'. An' them fellers up in old Injjeanny that come 'round makin'
such red-hot speeches to git us boys to 'list, wouldn't it be fun to see
'em humpin' 'long with gun 'n' knapsack, 'n' chawin' hardtack, 'n'
stan'in' guard nights, 'n' pourin' water on their blisters, 'n' pickin'
graybacks off their shirts, 'n' p'leecin' camp, 'n' washin' their own
clothes?"

"I think we'd enj'y seein' 'em do all that," said Shorty, laughing at
the picture Si had drawn. "I reckon most of 'em 'd peter out purty
quick, and I'd like to hear what sort o' speeches they'd, make then. I
tell ye, Si, there's a big diff'rence 'tween goin' yerself an' tellin'
some other feller to go."

"Mebbe they'll git to draftin' after a while," observed Si, "'n' if they
do I hope that'll ketch em!"

"Wall, we're in fur it, anyway," said Shorty. "Let's take down the bed
'n' turn in!"

It didn't take long to complete the arrangements for the night. They
spread their "gum" blankets, or ponchos, on the ground, within the tent,
and on these their wool blankets, placed their knapsacks at the head for
pillows, and that was all. It was warmer than usual that evening, and
they stripped down to their nether garments.

"Feels good once in a while," said Si, "to peel a feller's clothes oft,
'n' sleep in a Christian-like way. But, Great Scott! Shorty, ain't this
ground lumpy? It's like lying on a big washboard. I scooted all over the
country huntin' fer straw to-night. There wasn't but one little stack
within a mile of camp. Them derned Ohio chaps gobbled every smidgin of
it. They didn't leave enuff to make a hummin'-bird's nest. The 200th
Ind. 'll git even with 'em some day."

So Si and Shorty crept in between the blankets, drew the top one up to
their chins, and adjusted their bodily protuberances as best they could
to fit the ridges and hollows beneath them.

"Now, Si," said Shorty, "don't ye git to fitin' rebels in yer sleep and
kick the kiver off, as ye did last night."

As they lay there their ears caught the music of the bugles sounding the
"tattoo." Far and near floated through the clear night air the familiar
melody that warned every soldier not on duty to go to bed. Next to the
200th Ind. lay a regiment of wild Michigan veterans, who struck up,
following the strains of the bugles:

Say, oh Dutch'y, will ye fight mit Si-gel? Zwei glass o' la-ger, Yaw!
Yaw! Yaw!!! Will yet fight to help de bul-ly ea-gle?

Schweitzer-ksse und pret-zels, Hur-raw! raw! raw!

During the night there came one of those sudden storms that seemed to be
sent by an inscrutable Providence especially to give variety to the
soldier's life.

Struck by a Cyclone 111

A well-developed cyclone struck the camp, and Si and Shorty were soon
awakened by the racket. The wind was blowing and whirling in fierce
gusts, wrenching out the tent-pins or snapping the ropes as if they were
threads. Everywhere was heard the flapping of canvas, and the yells and
shouts of the men as they dashed about in the darkness and wild
confusion. Many of the tents were already prostrate, and their
demoralized inmates were crawling out from under the ruin. To crown all
the rain began to fall in torrents. The camp was a vast pandemonium. The
blackest darkness prevailed, save when the scene was illuminated by
flashes of lightning. These were followed by peals of thunder that made
the stoutest quake.

Si sprang up at the first alarm. "Git up, here, you fellers!" he
shouted. "We'd better go outside and grab the ropes, or the hull shebang
'll go over."

There was not a moment to spare. Si dashed out into the storm and
darkness, followed by his comrades. Seizing the ropes, some of which
were already loosened, they braced themselves and hung on for dear life,
in the drenching rain, their hair and garments streaming in the wind.

Si's prompt action saved the tent from the general wreck. The fury of
the storm was soon past. Si and his comrades, after driving the pins and
securing the ropes, re-entered the tent, wet and shivering for the
mercury had gone down with a tumble, or rather it would have done so had
they been supplied with thermometers. But the scanty costume in which Si
found himself afforded a weather indicator sufficiently accurate for all
practical purposes.

Supper Under Difficulties 115

The ground was flooded, and their blankets and garments were fast
absorbing the water that flowed around in such an exasperating way.
Sleep under such conditions was out of the question. Si and Shorty put
on their clothes and tried to make the best of their sorry plight.

By this time the rain had nearly ceased. Fortunately they had laid in a
good stock of fuel the night before, and after a little patient effort
they succeeded in getting a fire started. Around this the boys hovered,
alternately warming their calves and shins.

"This is a leetle more'n I bargained fer," said Si. Then, taking a
philosophical view of the case, he added, "but there's one good thing
about it, Shorty, we'll be all fixed for mornin', an' we won't have to
get up when they sound the revel-lee. The buglers kin jest bust
theirselves a-blowin' fer all I keer!"

In this way the soldiers spent the remainder of the night. Before
daybreak the blast of a hundred bugles rang out, but there was little
need for the reveille.

Breakfast was soon over, and in the gray dawn of that murky morning the
long column went trailing on its way. The weather gave promise of a
sloppy day, and the indications were fully verified. A drizzling rain
set in, and continued without cessation. The boys put their heads
through the holes in their ponchos, from the corners of which the water
streamed. With their muskets at a "secure" they sloshed along through
the mud, hour after hour. In spite of their "gums" the water found its
way in at the back of the neck and trickled down their bodies. Their
clothes became saturated, and they were altogether about as miserable as
it is possible for mortals to be.

A Field Shanty 117

It seemed to Si that the maximum of discomfort had been reached. He had
experienced one thing after another during the few weeks since he left
home, and he thought each in turn was worse than the last, and about as
bad as it could be. But Si learned a good deal more before he graduated.
All through the long, dreary day the soldiers plodded on. There was
little comfort to be derived from the "rest," for the ground was soaked
with water.

"Why didn't we think of it, Shorty," said Si, "'n' make it part o' the
bargain' when we 'listed that we were to have umbrellers. These gum
things don't amount to shucks, nohow, to keep the rain off. I sh'd think
Uncle Sam might do that much for us!"

"I reckon our clothes 'll be purty well washed by the time we git out o'
this mess," said Shorty.

"Feels that way," said Si; "but how about the bilin'? A cold bath jest
refreshes them pesky little varmints, 'n' makes 'em livelier 'n ever.
Say, Shorty, ye didn't write home anything 'bout our havin' graybacks,
did ye?"

"No, not yet; but I was thinkin' I'd tell 'em 'bout it one o' these
days."

"Well, Shorty, I ain't going to tell my folks; it 'd jest make my mother
feel awful to know I was that way. And sister Maria, and\x97"

Si was thinking aloud, and was going to say "Annabel," but he checked
himself. That name was not to be mentioned in other ears. But he was
afraid she would go back on him if she knew, all about it.

It was nearly night when the 200th Ind., dripping and discouraged, filed
off into a field of standing corn to pass the night. The men sank to
their shoetops in the soft earth. Si remarked to Shorty that he didn't
see why the officers should turn 'em loose in such a place as that. But
the longer he lived the more he found out about those things. That was
the way they always did.

It's the Morning 119

In five minutes after arms were stacked not a cornstalk remained
standing in the field. During the afterfnoon the troops had gone over a
long stretch of swamp road that was almost impassable for teams. Fears
were entertained that the wagons of the regiment would not be up that
night, and they would not have their tents to shelter them from the
storm. In anticipation of such a calamity the boys, gathered in the
cornstalks, having a vague idea that they would help out in case of
emergency.

Taking the Top Rail 113

Then there was a scramble for the fences. Recognizing the need of good
fuel, an order from the General was filtered through the various
headquarters that the men might take the top rails, only, from the fence
inclosing tha field. This order was literally interpreted and carried
out, each man, successively, taking the "top rail" as he found it. The
very speedy result was that the bottom rails became the "top," and then
there weren't any. Almost in the twinkling of an eye the entire fence
disappeared.

The drizzle continued through the evening, and by the sputtering fires
the soldiers prepared and ate their frugal suppers. Word came that, as
was feared, the wagons were hopelessly bemired three or four miles back,
and the men would have to make such shift as they could.

The prospect was dreary and cheerless enough. It was little wonder that
many of the young Hoosiers felt as if they wanted to quit and go home.
But with that wonderful facility for adapting themselves to
circumstances that marked the volunteer soldiers, they set about the
work of preparing for the night. No one who has not "been there" can
imagine how good a degree of comfort\x97comparatively speaking, of
course\x97it was possible to reach, with such surroundings, by the exercise
of a little patience, ingenuity and industry.

Si and Shorty and the others of the "mess" bestirred themselves, and it
did not take them more than 20 minutes to build, out of rails and
cornstalks, a shelter that was really inviting. They kindled a big fire
in front of it, laid some rails within, covered with stalks, and on
these spread their blankets. Si, who had "bossed" the job, viewed the
work with great satisfaction.

"I tell ye, that's no slouch of a shanty!" said he.



CHAPTER XIII. SI "STRAGGLED" AND THE OTHER BOYS MADE IT MIGHTY LOVELY
FOR HIM.

ONE day while Buell was chasing Bragg, two or three weeks after leaving
Louisville, the army was pushing forward at a gait that made the cavalry
ahead trot half the time to keep out of the way of the infantry. The
extraordinary speed that day was due to the fact that there were no
rebels in sight. Half a dozen ragged troopers with shotguns, a mile
away, would have caused the whole army to halt, form line-of-battle, and
stay thera the rest of the day.

The tanned veterans didn't mind the marching. They stretched their legs
and went swinging along with a happy-go-lucky air, always ready for
anything that might turn up. But it was rough on the new troops, just
from home. It taxed their locomotive powers to the utmost limit.

The boys of the 200th Ind. started out bravely. Their fresh, clean
faces, new uniforms, and shiny accouterments contrasted strongly with
those of the weather-beaten soldiers of '61. You could tell a
"tenderfoot" as far as you could see him.

They trudged along in fair shape for an hour or two. Before starting in
the morning strict orders had been read to the regiment forbidding
straggling, for any reason, under the most terrifying pains and
penalties.

"Them fellers that's been in the service longer 'n we have think they're
smart," said Si Klegg, as he and Shorty plodded on, both already a
little blown. "Well show 'em that we can hoof it jest as fast as they
can, and jest as fur in a day!"

"Seems to me we're git'n over the ground party lively to-day," replied
Shorty, who was in a grumbling mood. "Wonder if the Gin'ral thinks we're
bosses! I'm a little short o' wind, and these pesky gunboats are
scrapin' the bark off'n my feet; but I'll keep up or bust."

Though e spirit of these young patriots was willing, the flesh was weak.
It wasn't long till Si began to limp. Now and then a groan escaped his
lips as a fresh blister "broke." But Si clinched his teeth, humped his
back to ease his shoulders from the weight of his knapsack, screwed up
his courage, and tramped on over the stony pike. He thought the
breathing spells were very short and a long way apart.

Si's knapsack had experienced the universal shrinkage, as told in a
previous chapter of our hero's martial career. He still had, however, a
good many things that he thought he couldn't spare, but which he found
later he could very well get along without.

By noon the 200th began to show signs of going to pieces. The column
stretched out longer and longer, like a piece of India-rubber. The ranks
looked thin and ragged. Lame and foot-sore, with wo-begone faces, their
bodies aching in every bone and tendon, and overcome with a weariness
that no one can realize unless he has "been there," the men dropped out
one by one and threw themselves into the fence-corners to rest. The
officers stormed and drew their swords in vain. Nature\x97that is, the
nature of a new soldier\x97could endure no more. The ambulances were filled
to their utmost, but these would not hold a twentieth part of the
crippled and suffering men.

"How're ye gittin' on, Shorty?" said Si, as he and his comrade still
struggled along.

"Fair to middlin'," replied Shorty. "I'm goin' to try and pull through!"

"I thought I could," said Si, "but I'm 'bout played out! I am, fer a
fact! I guess ef I rest a bit I'll be able to ketch up after a while."

Si didn't know till he found out by experience how hard it was to "ketch
up" when a soldier once got behind on the march. Si was too fat for a
good roadster, but it didn't take a great while to work off his surplus
flesh. Shorty was tall and slim, mostly bone\x97one of the sort that always
stood the marching best, crept up to the Orderly and told him that he
would have to stop and puff a while and give his blisters a rest. He'd
pull up with Co. Q in an hour or so.

"Better not, Si" said the Orderly; "ye know it's agin orders, and the
rear-guard 'll punch ye with their bay'net's if they catch ye
stragglin'."

But Si concluded that if he must die for his country it would be sweeter
to do so by having a bayonet inserted in his vitals, and then it would
be all over with at once, than to walk himself to death.

So he gradually fell back till he reached the tail of the company.
Watching his opportunity, he left the ranks, crept into a clump of
bushes, and lay down, feeling as if he had been run through a grist-
mill. Soon the rear-guard of the 200th came along, with fixed bayonets,
driving before them like a flock of frightened sheep a motley crowd of
limping, groaning men, gathered up by the roadside.

Si lay very still, hoping to escaoe discovery; but the keen eye of the
officer detected the blue heap among the bushes.

"Bring that man out!" said he sternly to one of the guards.

Poor Si scarcely dare to breathe. He hoped the man would think he was
dead, and therefore no longer of any account. But the soldier began to
prod him with his bayonet, ordering him to get up and move on.

'don't Stab Me.' 123

"Look-a-here, pard," said Si, "don't stab me with that thing! I jest
can't git along any furder till I blow a little. You please lemme be,
an' I'll do as much for you. P'rhaps some time you'll get played out and
I'll be on the rear-guard. The Cap'n 'll tell me ter fotch ye 'long, an'
I'll jest let ye rest, so I will!"

This view of the case struck the guard with some force. Moved with
compassion, he turned away, leaving Si to enjoy his rest.

Hydropathic Treatment 125

Si threw aside his traps, took off his shoes and stockings, and bathed
his feet with water from his canteen. He ate a couple of hardtack, and
in the course of half an hour began to feel more like Si Klegg. He
geared himself up, shouldered his gun, and started to "ketch up."

All this time the stream of troops\x97regiments, brigades and divisions\x97had
flowed on. Of course, soldiers who were with their colors had the right
of way, and the stragglers were obliged to stumble along as best they
could, over the logs and through the bushes at the sides of the roads or
skirt along the edges of the fields and woods adjoining. It was this
fact added to their exhausted and crippled condition, that made it
almost impossible for stragglers to overtake their regiments until they
halted for the night. Even then it was often midnight before the last of
the wayfarers, weary and worn, dragged their aching limbs into camp.

Si started forward briskly, but soon found it was no easy matter to gain
the mile or so that the 200th Ind. was now ahead of him. It was about
all he could do to keep up with the fast-moving column and avoid failing
still further to the rear. Presently the bugles sounded a halt for one
of the hourly rests.

"Now," said Si to himself, "I'll have a good chance to git along tor'd
the front. The soljers 'll all lie down in the fence corners an' leave
the road clear. I'll jest git up an' dust!"

The sound of the bugles had scarcely died away when the pike was
deserted, and on either side, as far as the eye could reach, the
prostrate men that covered the ground mingled in a long fringe of blue.

Si got up into the road and started along the lane between these lines
of recumbent soldiers. His gait was a little shaky, for the blisters on
his feet began to give evidence of renewed activity. He trudged pluckily
along, limping some in spite of himself, but on the whole making very
good headway.

Pretty soon he struck a veteran regiment from Illinois, the members of
which were sitting and lying around in all the picturesque and
indescribable postures which the old soldiers found gave them the
greatest comfort during a "rest." Then they commenced\x97that is, it was
great sport for the Sucker boys, though Si did not readily appreciate
the humorous features of the scene.

"What rigiment is this?" asked Si, timidly.

"Same old rijiment!" was the answer from half a dozen at once. A single
glance told the swarthy veterans that the fresh-looking youth who asked
this conundrum belonged to one of the new regiments, and they
immediately opened their batteries upon him:

"Left\x97left-=left!"

"Hayfoot\x97strawfoot! Hayfoot\x97strawfoot!" keeping time with Si's somewhat
irregular steps.

"Hello, there, you! Change step and you'll march easier!"

"Look at that 'ere poor feller; the only man left alive of his regiment!
Great Cesar, how they must have suffered! Say, what rijiment did you
b'long to?"

"Paymaster's comin', boys, here's a chap with a pay-roll round his
neck!" Si had put on that morning the last of the paper collars he had
brought from home.

"You'd better shed that knapsack, or it'll be the death of ye!"

"I say, there, how's all the folks to home?"

"How d'ye like it as far as you've got, any way?"

"Git some commissary and pour into them gunboats!"

"Second relief's come, boys; we can all go home now."

"Grab a root!"

"Hep\x97hep\x97hep!"

"How'd ye leave Mary Ann?"

Si had never been under such a fire before. He stood it as long as he
could, and 'then he stopped.

"Halt!" shouted a chorus of voices. "Shoulder\x97Arms!" "Order\x97Arms!"

By this time Si's wrath was at the boiling point. Casting around him a
look of defiance, he exclaimed:

"You cowardly blaggards; I can jest lick any two of ye, an' I'll dare ye
to come on. If the 200th Ind. was here we'd clean out the hull pack of
ye quicker'n ye can say scat!"

This is where Si made a mistake. He ought to have kept right on and said
nothing. But Si had to find out all these things by experience, as the
rest of the boys did.

Si Defies a Regiment 129

All the members took a hand in the game. They just got right up and
yelled, discharging at Si a volley of expletives and pointed remarks
that drove him to desperation. Instinctively he brought up his gun.

"Load in nine times\x97Load!" shouted a dozen of the Illinois tramps.

If Si's gun had been loaded he would have shot somebody, regardless of
consequences. Thinking of his bayonet, he jerked it quickly from its
scabbard.

"Fix\x97Bay'net!" yelled the ragged veterans.

And he did, though it was more from the promptings of his own hostile
feelings than in obedience to the orders.

"Charge\x97Bay'net!"

Si had completely lost control of himself in his overpowering rage. With
blood in his eye, he came to, a charge, glancing fiercely from one side
of the road to the other, uncertain where to begin the assault.

Instantly there was a loud clicking all along the line. The Illinois
soldiers, almost to a man, fixed their bayonets. Half of them sprang to
their feet, and all aimed their shining points at the poor young Hoosier
patriot, filling the air with shouts of derision.

It was plain, even to Si in his inflamed state of mind, that the odds
against him were too heavy.

"Unfix\x97Bay'net!" came from half the regiment.

Si concluded he had better get out of a bad scrape the best way he
could. So he took off his bayonet and put it back in its place. He
shouted words of defiance to his tormentors, but they could not be heard
in the din.

"Shoulder\x97Arms!" "Right\x97Face!" "Right shoulder shift\x97Arms!"
"Forward\x97March!" These commands came in quick succession from the ranks
amidst roars of laughter.

Si obeyed the orders and started off.

"Left\x97left\x97left!"

"Hayfoot\x97strawfoot!"

Forgetting his blisters. Si took the double-quick while the mob swung
their caps and howled with delight.

Si didn't "ketch up" with the 200 Ind. until after it had gone into
camp. Shorty had a quart of hot coffee waiting for him.

"Shorty," said Si as they sat by the fire,\x97"I'm goin' to drop dead in my
tracks before I'll fall out again."

"Why, what's the matter?"

"Oh, nothin'; only you jest try it," said Si.

Had it not been for the "fun" the soldiers had in the army to brighten
their otherwise dark and cheerless lives, they would all have died. Si
was a true type of those who had to suffer for the good of others until
they learned wisdom in the school of experience.



CHAPTER XIV. SI AND THE MULES ONE DAY'S RICH EXPERIENCE AS COMPANY
TEAMSTER.

"I'VE GOT to have a man to drive team for a few days," said the Orderly
of Co. Q of the 200th Ind. one morning at roll-call. "The teamster's
sick and I'm goin' to send him to the hospital to-day."

The Orderly-Sergeant of Co. Q was a wily fellow. All Orderly-Sergeants
have to be. If they are not naturally, they learn it very quickly, or
lose the little diamond on their sleeves, if not all their stripes. The
man who undertakes to manage 60 or 75 stalwart, high-spirited young
Americans through all their moods and tenses, and every kind of weather,
has to be as wise as a serpent, though not necessarily as harmless as a
dove. Therefore, the Orderly-Sergeant didn't tell the boys what ailed
the teamster. The fact was that the heels of the "off=wheeler" caught
the teamster in the pit of the stomach and doubled him up so badly that
he wouldn't be fit for duty for a week. It was worse than the green-corn
colic.

"'Tisn't every man," continued the Orderly, "that's gifted with fust-
class talent fur drivin' team. I'd like to find the best man to steer
them animals, an' if there's a real sientifick mule-whacker in this
comp'ny let him speak up an' I'll detail him right off. It'll be a soft
thing fur somebody; them mules are daises."

Somehow they didn't all speak at once. The company had only had the team
two or three weeks, but the boys were not dull of hearing, and ominous
sounds had come to them from the rear of the camp at all hours of the
night\x97the maddening "Yeehaw-w-w!" of the long-eared brutes, and the
frantic ejaculations of the teamster, spiced with oaths that would have
sent a shudder through "our army in Flanders."

He Let Both Heels Fly 133

So they did not apply for the vacant saddle with that alacrity which
might have been expected, when so good a chance was offered for a
soldier to ride and get his traps carried on a wagon. Whenever an
infantryman threw away such an opportunity it is safe to assume that
there was some good reason for it.

But the idea of riding for a few days and letting his blisters get well
was too much for Si Klegg. Besides, he thought if there was any one
thing he could do better than another it was driving a team. He had been
doing it on his father's farm all his life. It is true, he didn't know
much about mules, but he imagined they were a good deal like horses.

"I'm your man!" spoke up Si cheerfully.

"All right," said the Orderly. "Company, Right\x97Face! Break ranks\x97March!"

"There ain't any trouble about it!" Si said to Shorty as they walked
back to the tent. "I reckon it's easy enough to manage mules if you go
at 'em right. It'll be just fun for me to drive team. And say. Shorty,
I'll carry all your traps on my wagon. That'll be a heap better'n totin'
'em!"

Si gathered up his outfit and started to enter upon his new sphere of
usefulness.

"Shall I take my gun and bay'net along?" he asked the Orderly.

"Guess you'd better; they might come handy!" replied the Orderly, as he
thought of the teamster's disastrous encounter with the "off-wheeler."

After Shorty had eaten his breakfast he thought he would go back to the
tent and see how Si was getting on. With thoughtful care Si had fed his
mules before appeasing his own appetite, and Shorty found him just
waiting for his coffee to cool a bit.

"Why, them 'ere mules is jist as gentle'n' peaceful-like ez so many
kittens. Look at 'em, Shorty!" and Si pointed with a proud and gratified
air to where the six "daisies" were standing, three on each side of the
wagon-pole, with their noses in the feed-box, quietly munching their
matutinal rations, and whisking their paint-brush tails about in evident
enjoyment.

Indeed, to look at those mules one who was ignorant of the peculiar
characteristics of the species would not have thought that beneath those
meek exteriors there were hearts filled with the raging fires of total
depravity. Shorty thought how it would be, but he didn't say anything.
He was sure that Si would find out about it soon enough.

The brigade to which the 200th Ind. belonged was to march in the rear of
the long procession that day. This was lucky for Si, as it gave him an
hour or two more than he would otherwise have had to get hitched up. But
all the same he thought he would begin early, so as to be on hand with
his team in good time.

"Want any help?" asked Shorty.

"No," said Si; "I can hitch 'em up slick's a whistle. I can't see why so
many makes sich a fuss 'bout handlin' mules."

Shorty lighted his cob pipe and sat down on a stump to watch Si. "Kinder
think there'll be a circus!" he said to himself.

Si got up from his coffee and hardtack, and addressed himself to the
business of the hour. It proved to be just as much as he could attend
to. When Si poured half a bushel of corn into the feed box it was all
very nice, and the animals rubbed their heads against him to give
expression to their grateful emotions. But when it came to putting on
the harness, that was quite a different thing. The mere touch of a strap
was enough to stimulate into baleful activity all the evil passions of
mule-nature.

"Now, Pete and Jim and Susan, we must git ready to pull out!" said Si to
his charge, in a familiar, soothing tone, preliminary to getting down to
business. It was his evident desire to maintain the friendly relations
that he thought he had already established. At the first rattle of the
harness Pete and Susan and the rest, moved by a common impulse, laid
back their ears and began to bray, their heels at the same time showing
symptoms of impatience.

"Whoa, there\x97whoa!" exclaimed Si, in a conciliatory way, as he advanced
with a bridle in his hand toward one of the big wheelers, whose ears
were flapping about like the fans of a windmill.

Si imprudently crept up from the rear. A flank movement would have been
better. As soon as he had got fairly within range the mule winked
viciously, lowered his head, and let fly both heels. Si was a spry boy,
and a quick dodge saved him from the fate of his predecessor. One of the
heels whizzed past his ear with the speed of a cannon ball, caught his
hat, and sent it spinning through the air.

Shorty, who was whittling up a piece of Kentucky twist to recharge his
pipe, laughed till he rolled off the stump all in a heap. A few of the
other boys had stayed out to see the fun, and were lounging around the
outskirts of the corral. "Go for 'em, Si!" they shouted.

Si was plucky, and again advanced with more caution. This time he was
successful, after a spirited engagement, in getting the bridle on. He
thought he would ride him down to the creek for water, and this would
give him a chance to get acquainted with him, as it were. He patted the
animal's neck, called him pet names, and gently stroked his stubby mane.
Alas, Si didn't know then what an utter waste of material it was to give
taffy to an army mule.

With a quick spring Si vaulted upon the back of the mule. He started off
in good shape, waving his hand exultingly to the boys with the air of a
General who has just won a great battle.

All at once the animal stopped as suddenly as if he had run against a
stone wall. He planted his fore feet, throwing his ears back and his
head down. There was a simultaneous rear elevation, with the heels at an
upward angle of about 45 degrees. Si went sprawling among the bushes.
This performance was greeted with great enthusiasm by the fast
increasing crowd of spectators.

Si Went Sprawling 137

"I oughter have told you that saddle-mule's the worst bucker in the Army
o' the Ohio," said the Quartermaster-Sergeant, who was among the
onlookers. "Why, he'd buck off the stripe that runs down his back, if he
took it into his measly head. He bucked off a chattel mortgage, and
that's the way he come into the army. You can't ride him without using
one of Aunt Jemima's sticking plasters."

"Much obliged for your information. But I will ride him all the same,"
said Si, whose temper had risen to the exploding point. "I kin ride him
if he ties himself in a double bow-knot."

Si was too much of a farmer boy to give in to anything that walked on
four legs.

He had hung on to the bridle rein, and after addressing a few impressive
words to the obstreperous mule he again leaped upon his back. The mule
took a docile turn, his motive having apparently been merely to show Si
what he could do when he took a notion.

The space at command will not permit us to follow Si through all the
details of "hitching up" that team. He did finally "git thar, Eli,"
after much strategic effort. The mules brayed and kicked a good deal,
and Si's wrath was fully aroused before he got through. He became
convinced that soft words were of no account in such a contest, and he
enforced discipline by the judicious use of a big club, together with
such appropriate language as he could think of. Si hadn't yet learned to
swear with that wonderful and appalling proficiency that was so soon
acquired by the army teamsters. In the management of mules profanity was
considered an invaluable accessory in times of great emergency.

At last Si climbed into the saddle, as proud as a King. Seizing the
long, single line running to the "leaders"\x97by which contrivance the army
team was always guided\x97he shouted "Git up, thar, Pete! G'lang Susan!"
and the caravan started. But the unregenerated brutes didn't go far. Si
was gaily cracking his whip, trying to hit a big blue-bottle fly that
was perched on the ear of one of the "swing" mules.

As if by a preconcerted plan, the establishment came to a sudden halt
and the mules began to rear and kick and plunge around in utter
disregard of consequences. It didn't take more than a minute for them to
get into a hopeless tangle. They were in all conceivable shapes\x97heads
and tails together, crosswise and "every which way," tied up with the
straps of the harness. The air in all directions was full of heels.
There was a maddening chorus of discordant braying.

In the course of the scrimmage Si found himself on the ground. Gathering
himself up, he gazed in utter amazement at the twisted, writhing mass.
At this moment a messenger came from the Captain to "hurry up that
team," and poor Si didn't know what to do. He wished he could only swear
like the old mule drivers. He thought it would make him feel better.
There was no one to help him out of his dilemma, as the members of the
company were all getting ready for the march.

A veteran teamster happened along that way, and took in the situation at
a glance. He saw that Si had bit off more than he could chew, and
volunteered his assistance.

"Here, young feller," said he, "lemme show ye how to take the stiffenin'
out o' them ere dod-gasted mules!"

Seizing the whip at the small end of the stock he began laying on right
and left with the butt, taking care to keep out of range of the heels.
During these persuasive efforts he was shouting at the top of his voice
words that fairly hissed through the air. Si thought he could smell the
brimstone and see the smoke issuing from the old teamster's mouth and
nostrils. This is a section of what that experienced mule driver said,
as nearly as we can express it:

"_________;;_____________!!!***???!!!! ____???________???!!!!"

Si thanked the veteran for these timely suggestions in the way of
language, and said he would remember them. He had no doubt they would
help him out the next time.

They finally got the team untied, and Si drove over to the company
ground. The regiment had been gone some time, a detail having been left
to load the wagon. After getting out upon the road the mules plodded
along without objection, and Si got on famously. But having lost his
place in the column in consequence of the delay, he was obliged to fall
in rear of the division train, and it was noon before he got well
started.

Along towards evening Si struck a section of old corduroy road through a
piece of swamp. The passage of the artillery and wagons had left the
road in a wretched condition. The logs were lying at all points of the
compass, or drifting vaguely about in the mire, while here and there
were seas of water and pits of abysmal depth.

Stuck in the Mud 141

To make the story short, Si's mules stumbled and floundered and
kicked,\x97while Si laid on with the whip and used some of the words he had
learned from the old teamster before starting.

At length the wagon became hopelessly stalled. The wheels sank to the
hubs, and Si yelled and cracked his whip in vain. Perhaps if he had had
the old teamster there to swear for him he could have pulled through,
but as it was he gave it up, dismounted, hunted a dry spot, and sat down
to think and wait for something to turn up.

Just before dark a large detail from Co. Q, which had been sent back on
an exploring expedition for Si and his team, reached the spot. After
hours of prying and pushing and tugging and yelling they at length got
the wagon over the slough, reaching camp about midnight.

"Orderly," said Si, "I believe I'd like to resign my place as mule-
driver. It's a nice, soft thing, but I'd jest as lief let s'mother
feller have it, so I'll take my gun an' go to hoofin' it agin!"



CHAPTER XV. UNDER FIRE\x97SI HAS A FIGHT, CAPTURES A PRISONER AND GETS
PROMOTED.

"SEEMS to me it's 'bout time ter be gitt' into a fite!" said Si Klegg to
Shorty one night as they sat around the fire after supper, with their
shoes and stockings off, comparing the size and number of their
respective blisters. Neither of them had much of the skin they started
out with left on their feet. "I always s'posed," he continued, "that
bein' a sojer meant fitin' somebody; and here we are roaming over the
country like a lot of tramps. I can't see no good in it, nohow."

"Don't be in a hurry. Si," replied Shorty; "I reckon we'll ketch it soon
'nuff. From what I've hearn the old soldiers tell a battle ain't such a
funny thing as a feller thinks who don't know anything about it, like
you'n me. The boys is always hungry at first for shootin' and bein' shot
at, but I've an idee that it sorter takes away their appetite when they
gits one square meal of it. They don't hanker after it no more. It's
likely we'll git filled full one o' these days. I'm willin' to wait!"

"Wall," said Si, "I sh'd think we might have a little skirmish, anyway.
I'd like to have a chance to try my gun and to hear what kind of a noise
bullets make. Of course, I'd ruther they'd hit some other feller besides
me, but I'm ready to take the chances on that. I don't b'lieve I'd be
afeard."

Si was ambitious, and full of the martial ardor that blazed in the
breast of every young volunteer. He was really glad when the Orderly
came around presently and told them that the 200th Ind. would have the
advance next day, and Co. Q would be on the skirmish-line. He told the
boys to see that their cartridge-boxes were all full and their guns in
good order, as they would be very like to run foul of the rebels.

This was just before the battle of Perryville. The rebels were very
saucy, and there seemed to be a fair prospect that the curiosity of the
members of the 200th Ind. to "see the elephant" would be at least
measurably gratified.

Before Si went to bed he cleaned up his gun and made sure that it would
"go off" whenever he wanted it to. Then he and Shorty crawled under the
blankets, and as they lay "spoon fashion," thinking about what might
happen the next day. Si said he hoped they would both have "lots of
sand."

All night Si dreamed about awful scenes of slaughter. Before morning he
had destroyed a large part of the Confederate army.

It was yet dark when the reveille sounded through the camp. Si and
Shorty kicked off the blankets at first blast of bugle, and were
promptly in their places for roll-call. Then, almost in a moment, a
hundred fires were gleaming, and the soldiers gathered around them to
prepare their hasty breakfast.

Before the sun was up the bugles rang out again upon the morning air. In
quick succession came the "general," the "assembly," and "to the
colors." The 200th marched out upon the pike, but soon filed off into a
cornfield to take its assigned place in the line, for the advance
division was to move in order of battle, brigade front, that day.

In obedience to orders, Co. Q moved briskly out and deployed as
skirmishers, covering the regimental front. As the line advanced through
field and thicket Si Klegg's heart was not the only one that thumped
against the blouse that covered it.

It was not long till a squad of cavalrymen came galloping back, yelling
that the rebels were just ahead. The line was halted for a few minutes;
while the Generals swept the surrounding country with their field
glasses and took in the situation.

The skirmishers, for fear of accidents, took advantage of such cover as
they could find. Si and Shorty found themselves to leeward of a large
stump.

"D'ye reckon a bullet 'd go through this 'ere stump?" said Si.

Before Shorty could answer something else happened that absorbed their
entire attention. For the time they didn't think of anything else.

'Boom-m-m-m!'

"Great Scott! d'ye hear that?" said Si through his chattering teeth.

"Yes, and there's somethin' comin' over this way," replied Shorty.

A shell came screaming and swishing through the air. The young Hoosiers
curled around the roots of that stump and flattened themselves out like
a pair of griddle-cakes. If it was Si that the rebel gunners were after,
they timed the shell to a second, for it burst with a loud bang just
over them. The fragments flew all around, one striking the stump and
others tearing up the dirt on every side.

It Burst With a Loud 'bang.' 145

To say that for the moment those two soldiers were demoralized would be
drawing it very mildly. They showed symptoms of a panic. It seemed as
though they would be hopelessly stampeded. Their tongues were paralyzed,
and they could only look silently into each other's white faces.

Si was the first to recover himself, although it could hardly be
expected that he could get over his scare all at once.

"D-d-did it hit ye, Sh-Shorty?" he said.

"N-no, I guess not; b-b-but ain't it aw-awful. Si? You look so bad I th-
thought you was k-k-killed!"

"Who's afeard?" said Si. "I was only skeered of you. Shorty. Brace up,
now same's I do!"

"Skirmishers\x97Forward!" was heard along the line. "Come on, Shorty!" said
Si, and they plunged bravely ahead.

Emerging suddenly from a thick wood, they came upon the rebel
skirmishers in full view, posted on the opposite side of the field.

Crack! Crack!\x97Zip! Zip!

"Guess there's a bee-tree somewhere around here, from the way the bees
are buzzin'," said Si.

"'Taint no bees," replied Shorty; "it's a mighty sight worse'n that.
Them's bullets, Si Don't ye see the dumed galoots over yonder a-shootin'
at us?"

Si was no coward, and he was determined to show that he wasn't. The
shell a little while before had taken the starch out of him for a few
minutes, but that was nothing to his discredit. Many a seasoned veteran
found himself exceedingly limber under such circumstances.

"Let's give the rascals a dose," said he; "the best we've got in stock!"

Suiting the action to the word, Si crept up to a fence, thrust his gun
between the rails, took good aim and fired.

Si Takes a Crack at A Reb 147

A bullet from one of the other fellows made the splinters fly from a
rail a foot or two from Si's head; but he was getting excited now, and
he didn't mind it any more than if it had been a paper wad from a pea-
shooter.

It makes a great difference with a soldier under fire whether he can
take a hand in the game himself, or whether he must lie idle and let the
enemy "play it alone."

"Did ye hear him squeal?" said Si, as he dropped upon the ground and
began to reload with all his might. "I hit that son-of-a-gun, sure. Give
'em H\x97Hail Columbia, Shorty. We'll show 'em that the 200th Ind. is in
front to-day!"

"Forward, men!" shouted the officers. "Go right for 'em!"

The skirmishers sprang over the fence and swept across the field at a
"double-quick" in the face of a sputtering fire that did little damage.
None of them reached the other side any sooner than Si did. The rebels
seemed to have found out that the 200th boys were coming, for they were
already on the run, and some of them had started early. Pell-mell
through the brush they went, and the blue-blouses after them.

"Halt, there, or I'll blow ye into the middle o' next week!" yelled Si,
as he closed up on a ragged specimen of the Southern Confederacy whose
wind had given out. Si thought it would be a tall feather in his hat if
he could take a prisoner and march him back.

Si Captures a Johnny 149

The "Johnny" gave one glance at his pursuer, hesitated, and was lost. He
saw that Si meant business, and surrendered at discretion.

"Come 'long with me!" said Si, his eyes glistening with pleasure and
pride. Si marched him back and delivered him to the Colonel.

"Well done, my brave fellow!" said the Colonel.

"This is a glorious day for the 200th Ind., and you've taken its first
prisoner. What's your name my boy?"

"Josiah Klegg, sir!" said Si, blushing to the very roots of his hair.

"What company do you belong to?"

"Company Q, sir!" and Si saluted the officer as nicely as he knew how.

"I'll see your Captain to-night, Mr. Klegg, and you shall be rewarded
for your good conduct. You may now return to your company."

It was the proudest moment of Si's life up to date. He stammered out his
thanks to the Colonel, and then, throwing his gun up to a right
shoulder-shift, he started off on a canter to rejoin the skirmishers.

That night Si Klegg was the subject of a short conversation between his
Captain and the Colonel. They agreed that Si had behaved very
handsomely, and deserved to be promoted.

"Are there any vacancies in your non-commissioned officers?" asked the
Colonel.

"No," was the reply, "but there ought to be. One of my Corporals skulked
back to the rear this morning and crawled into a wagon. I think we had
better reduce him to the ranks and appoint Mr. Klegg."

"Do so at once," said the Colonel.

Next morning when the 200th was drawn up in line an order was read by
the Adjutant reducing the skulker and promoting Si to the full rank of
Corporal, with a few words commending the gallantry of the latter. These
orders announcing rewards and punishments were supposed to have a
salutary effect in stimulating the men to deeds of glory, and as a
warning to those who were a little short of "sand."

Corporal si Klegg 151

The boys of Co. Q showered their congratulations upon Si in the usual
way. They made it very lively for him that day. In the evening: Si
hunted up some white cloth, borrowed a needle and thread, went off back
of the tent, rammed his bayonet into the ground, stuck a candle in the
socket, and sewed chevrons on the sleeves of his blouse. Then he wrote a
short letter:

"Deer Annie: I once more take my pen in hand to tell you there's grate
news. I'm an ossifer. We had an awful fite yisterdy. I don't know how
menny rebbles I kild, but I guess thare was enuff to start a good sized
graveyard. I tuk a prizner, too, and the Kurnal says to me bully fer
you, Mister Klegg, or sumthin to that effeck. This mornin they made me a
Corporil, and red it out before the hull rijiment I guess youd been
prowd if you could have seen me. To-night the boys is hollerin hurraw
fer Corporal Klegg all over camp. I ain't as big is the Ginrals and gum
of the other ossifers, but thars no tellin how hi I'll get in three
years.

"Rownd is the ring that haint no end, So is my luv to you my friend.

"Yours, same as before,

"Corporal Si Klegg."



CHAPTER XVI. ONE OF THE "NON-COMMISH" A NIGHT'S ADVENTURES AS "CORPORAL
OF THE GUARD."

"CORPORAL Klegg, you will go on duty to-night with the camp guard!" said
the Orderly of Co. Q one evening, as the 200th Ind. filed off into a
piece of woods to bivouac for the night, two or three days after Si had
been promoted.

The chevrons on his arms had raised Si several degrees in the estimation
not only of himself, but of the other members of the company. His
conduct in the skirmish had shown that he had in him the material for a
good soldier, and even the Orderly began to treat him with that respect
due to his new rank as one of the "non-commish."

Like every other man who put on the army blue and marched away so bold,
"With gay and gallant tread," Si could not tell whether he was going to
amount to anything as a soldier until he had gone through the test of
being under fire. There were many men who walked very erect, talked
bravely, drilled well, and made a fine appearance on dress parade,
before they reached "the front," but who wilted at the "zip" of bullets
like tender corn blades nipped by untimely frost. And a good many of
them continued in that wilted condition. Perhaps they really couldn't
help it. An inscrutable Providence had seen fit to omit putting any
"sand in their gizzards," as the boys expressed it.

It must be confessed that Si was somewhat unduly elated and puffed up
over, his own achievements as a skirmisher and his success in climbing
the ladder of military rank and fame. It is true, it wasn't much of a
fight they had that day, but Si thought it was pretty fair for a
starter, and enough to prove to both himself and his comrades that he
wouldn't be one of the "coffee coolers" when there was business on hand.

Si was sorry that his regiment did not get into the fight at Perryville.
The 200th Ind. belonged to one of the two corps of Buell's army that lay
under the trees two or three miles away all through that October
afternoon, while McCook's gallant men were in a life-and-death struggle
against overwhelming odds. It bothered Si as much to understand it all
as it did 30,000 other soldiers that day.

Si responded with alacrity when he was detailed for guard duty. He had
walked a beat once or twice as a common tramp, and had not found it
particularly pleasant, especially in stormy weather; but now he was a
peg higher, and he thought as Corporal he would have a better time. He
had already observed that the rude winds of army life were tempered, if
not to the shorn lambs, at least to the officers, in a degree
proportionate to their rank. The latter had the first pick of
everything, and the men took what was left. The officers always got the
softest rails to sleep on, the hardtack that was least tunneled through
by the worms, the bacon that had the fewest maggots, and the biggest
trees in a fight.

"Forward\x97March!" shouted the officer in command, when the detachment was
ready. Si stepped off very proudly, thinking how glad his good old
mother and sister Marier and pretty Annabel would be if they could see
him at that moment. He was determined to discharge his official duties
"right up to the handle," and make the boys stand around in lively
style.

When the guard reached the place selected for headquarters the officer
drily lectured them in regard to their duties, impressing upon them the
necessity of being alert and vigilant. There was only a thin picket-line
between them and the enemy. The safety of the army depended upon the
faithfulness of those appointed to watch while others slept. He gave
them the countersign, "Bunker Hill," and ordered them under no
circumstances to allow any person to pass without giving it, not even
the Commanding General himself.

Then the guards were posted, the "beats" laid off and numbered, and as
the fast-gathering shadows deepened among the trees the sentinels paced
to and fro around the tired army.

For an hour or two after the guards were stationed all was quiet along
the line. The noise of the great camp was hushed for the night, and no
sound broke the stillness of the gloomy forest. The moon rose and peeped
timidly through the branches.

"Corporal of the Guard; Post No. 6."

Si's quick ear, as he lay curled up at the foot of a tree, caught these
words, rapidly repeated by one sentinel after another. It was his first
summons. He sprang to his feet, gun in hand, his heart beating at the
thought of adventure, and started on the run for "Post No. 6."

"What's up?" he said to the guard, with a perceptible tremor in his
voice.

"There's one o' the boys tryin' to run the guards!" was the answer.
"He's been out foragin', I reckon. He's got a lot o' plunder he wants to
git into camp with. See him, out there in the bush?"

The forager, for such he proved to be, was nimbly dodging from tree to
tree, watching for a chance to cross the line, but the alertness of the'
guards had thus far kept him outside. He had tried to bribe one or two
of the boys by offering to "whack up" if they would let him pass or give
him the countersign, so that he could get in at some other point in the
cordon. But the guards were incorruptible. They were "fresh" yet, and
had not caught on to the plan of accepting an offered chicken, a section
of succulent pig, or a few sweet potatoes, and then walking off to the
remote limit of the beat, with eyes to the front, while the forager shot
across the line in safety. They learned all about this after a while.

The raider tried to parley with Si, but Si wouldn't have it. Raising his
gun to a "ready" he ordered the man to come in or he would put a hole
through him.

The best thing to do under the circumstances was to obey. The forager,
who belonged to Si's company, crept up to Corporal Klegg and in a
conciliatory tone opened negotiations.

"You jest let me pass, and you may have your pick of this stuff," said
he, holding up a fowl in one hand and a ham in the other. "It'll be all
right, and nobody 'll ever know nothin' 'bout it!"

Si hesitated; it was human nature. The offer was a tempting one, but he
remembered his responsibility to his country, and his stomach appealed
in vain. Duty came before stewed chicken or roasted sparerib.

"Can't do it!" said Si. "You've got hold of the wrong man this time. I
ain't goin' to have nobody monkeyin' 'round while I'm Corporal of this
'ere guard. Come along with me, and step out lively, too!"

Si marched the culprit back to headquarters and delivered him up to the
officer, who commended Si for his fidelity.

Next day the ground back of the Colonel's tent was strewn with feathers,
chicken bones, ham rinds, and potato skins, while the unlucky forager
who had provided the field officers' mess with such a royal meal was
humped around for two hours on "knapsack drill," and condemned to spend
24 hours in the guard-house.

An hour later Si had another experience. The Captain of Co. Q felt a
kindly interest, and not a little pride in him, since the skirmish, and
he thought he would take a turn that night and see whether his newly-
made Corporal was "up to snuff."

"Post No. 3," was Si's second call. He responded promptly, and as he
approached the guard the latter said:

"Corporal, here's the Cap'n, and he wants to get in! He hain't got the
countersign; shall I pass him?"

"Good evening. Corporal!" said the Captain, as Si came up, at the same
time extending his hand.

Si was thrown completely off his guard. Dropping the butt of his gun
carelessly to the ground he replied cheerily, "Good evening, Cap'n,"
touching his hat by way of salute. Then he took the proffered hand,
pleased at the Captain's mark of kindly recognition. He didn't
understand the scheme then. "How are you getting on, Mr. Klegg?" "First
rate!" said Si, with the air of one conscious that he had done his duty
well. "I capchered a forager a little bit ago and took him to
headquarters!"

One of the 'non-com Mish.' 159

"Well done, Corporal I have no doubt you will honor the good name of the
200th Ind. in general and Company Q in particular, I got caught outside
to night, and I want to get back into camp. Of course, you know me and
it's all right!"

"Certainly, sir!" said Si, as he stood leaning on his gun and allowed
the officer to pass the magic line. "Good night, Cap'n!"

"Good night, Corporal! By the way," said the Captain, retracing his
steps, "I notice that you do not carry your gun just right. Let me show
you how to handle it!"

Si didn't know what a flagrant offense it was for a soldier on guard to
let his gun go out of his hands; nor had he the faintest suspicion that
the Captain was playing it on him. So he promptly handed his picee to
the Captain, who immediately brought it down to a "charge," with the
bayonet at Si's breast.

"Suppose, now, I was a rebel in disguise," said the Captain, "what kind
of a fix would you be in?"

Light began to dawn upon Si, and he started back in terror at the
thought of the mistake he had made.

"Of course, I wouldn't let anybody else have it," he stammered; "but I
knew you, Cap'n!"

"That makes no difference to a man on duty. Corporal. You hang on to
your gun the rest of the night, and if anybody\x97I don't care if it's Gen.
Buell himself\x97insists on your giving it to him, let him have two or
three inches of the point of your bayonet. Don't let anybody pass
without the countersign, either! Come to my quarters when you are
relieved tomorrow."

All this illustrates the way the officers had of testing new soldiers
and teaching them a thing or two, when, as was frequently the case, they
were not yet up to the mark. A trick of extra duty for the hapless
novitiate was generally the penance for his simplicity.

The cold chills ran up and down Si's back as he took his gun and slowly
returned to the guard fire. He felt that he had utterly spoiled his good
record.

"Lieutenant," he said to the officer, "I wish you'd please detail a man
to kick me for about an hour."

The Lieutenant wanted to know what the matter was, and Si told him all
about it, ending with:

"So now I s'pose the Cap'n 'll yank the stripes off'n my blouse!"

The officer quieted his fears by assuring him that there was no cause
for alarm. The Captain knew that he was trying to do his duty, and what
he had done was for Si's own good.

Si sat down by the fire and was thinking it over when there was another
call, "Corporal of the guard!" He was soon at the point indicated and
found two officers on horseback, whom he recognized as the Colonel and
Adjutant of the 200th Ind. Si's friend Shorty was the guard who had
halted them.

"Now, Corporal Klegg," said Si to himself, laying his finger alongside
his nose, "you jist watch out this time. Here's big game! Shouldn't
wonder if them ossifers had bin out skylarkin', and they're tryin' to
git in. Don't ye let 'em fool ye as the Cap'n did!"

Si was right in his surmise. The Colonel and Adjutant had been enjoying
a good supper at a house half a mile away, and had not the slightest
idea what the countersign was.

Si was determined not to "get left" this time. As he approached, the
Colonel saw that it was soldier he had commended for his gallantry at
the time of the skirmish.

"Ah, Corporal Klegg, I'm glad to see you so prompt in your duty. I was
sure we had made no mistake when we promoted you. Of course, you can see
who I am. I'm your Colonel, and this is the Adjutant. We are,
unfortunately, outside without the countersign; but you can just let us
through."

The Colonel's taffy had no effect on Si. He just brought himself into a
hostile attitude, with his bayonet in fair range of the Colonel, as he
replied:

"Colonel, my orders is to pass no livin' man unless he says 'Bunker
Hill.' I'd be glad to do ye a good turn, but there's no use talkin'. I'm
goin' to obey orders, and ye can't pass here."

'not 'less Ye Say 'bunker Hill.'' 155

The Colonel chuckled softly as he dismounted and came up to Si.

"It's all right," he said, "of course I know what the countersign is. I
was only trying you."

"Hold on there," said Si, "don't come too close. If you've got the
countersign, advance and give it. If ye ain't got it, I'll jest call the
Officer of the Guard!"

Leaning over the point of Si's bayonet the Colonel gently whispered
"Bunker Hill".

"Correct!" said Si, and bringing his gun to a shoulder, he respectfully
saluted the Colonel. The latter started to remount, but turned back as
he said:

"Just let me show you how to hold your gun. You don't\x97"

"Not if the court knows herself," said Si, again menacing the Colonel
with his bayonet. "That's bin played on me once to-night, and if anybody
does it again my name ain't Si Klegg!"

"That's right, Corporal," said the Colonel as he sprang into the saddle;
"but don't tell anybody what the countersign is again! Good night!"

"Good night. Colonel," said Si, touching his hat. As the officers rode
away Si began to think he had put his foot in it again. He was confirmed
in this opinion by seeing Shorty sit down on a log in a paroxysm of
laughter.

"You give yerself away bad this time!" said Shorty, as soon as he could
speak. "What did ye tell him the countersign for?"

"Whew-w-w-w!" observed Si, with a prolonged whistle. "Shorty," said he,
"I wish you'd take a club and see if you can't pound a little sense into
me; I don't believe I've got any!" Without another word he shouldered
his gun and returned to the guard headquarters. "Now I'm a goner, sure!"
he said to himself.

On his way he found a guard sitting by a tree, sound asleep. Carefully
taking away his gun Si awoke him, and frightened him half to death by
telling him that he would report him and he would be shot for sleeping
on post. Si finally said he wouldn't tell on him this time, but he must
never do so again, or he would be a dead man.

"Corporal of the guard!" was heard again, sometime after midnight. "If
they try any more measly tricks on me to-night somebody 'll git hurt!"
thought Si as he walked briskly along the line in response to the call.

This time it was a "contraband"\x97an old negro, who stood shivering with
terror as the guard held him at the point of the bayonet. Recalling the
unlucky adventures of the night. Si imagined that it was one of the
officers, who had blackened himself like a minstrel, and had come there
purposely to "catch him."

"Ye can't get through unless ye've got the counter sign," said he,
decisively; "and I shan't give it to ye, nuther! And ye needn't try to
show me how to hold my gun! I can handle it well enough to shoot and
punch the Bayonet!"

"Don't know what dat all means, boss," said the frightened negro; "but
fer de good Lawd's sake don't shove dat t'ing frew me. I've only bin
ober to de nex' place to a 'possum roast and I'se jist gwine home. I
didn't know dese yer ge-yards was heah!"

Si didn't propose to take any chances, and so he marched the old
contraband back and delivered him to the officer, who kept him till
morning and then suffered him to go on his way.

Once more that night Si was called, in addition to his tramps with the
"reliefs" and the "grand rounds." It was, perhaps, an hour before
daylight, and Shorty was the guard who called him. He told Si there was
something walking around in the woods, and he believed it was a rebel
trying to creep up on them. He had challenged two or three times, but
got no answer. The moon had gone down, and in the dark woods objects at
any distance could not be distinguished.

"There, d'ye hear that?" said Shorty, as there came a sound of crackling
sticks and rustling leaves.

"Halt!" exclaimed Si. "Who comes there?"

There was no response, and Si challenged again with like result.

"Shorty," said Si, "let's fire both together," and crack went their
muskets.

For a moment there was a great floundering, and then all was still. As
soon as it was light, and Shorty was relieved, he and Si went out to see
the result of their fire. To their astonishment they found the prowler
cold and stiff in death\x97they had shot a big gray mule.

They Had Shot a Mule 163

On the whole, it was a busy and interesting night for Si. He did not
lose his chevrons on account of his mistakes. But he learned something,
and the lesson was impressed upon his mind by a few kindly words of
caution and advice from the Captain of Co. Q.



CHAPTER XVII. FORAGING ON THE WAY SI HAS SOME VARIED EXPERIENCES WITH
SOUTHERN PRODUCTS.

THE long chase after Bragg from Louisville to the mountains of
southeastern Kentucky was rough on the new troops. It weeded them out
very fast, and in every town through which Buell's army passed the
buildings were turned into hospitals and filled with sick and crippled
soldiers, who had found out early that they were not physically able to
endure the hardships of an active campaign. At the end of two or three
weeks some of the new regiments were as much reduced in numbers as most
of those that went out in '61 were during their first six months.

The 200th Ind. jogged along bravely, but its ranks had suffered the
common skage. Not less than 400 of its men had fallen by the wayside,
and were taking quinine and blue-mass and rubbing arnica on their legs
all along the tortuous route.

Corporal Si Klegg and his friend Shorty proved to be "stayers." Full of
life and ambition, they were always prompt for duty and ready for a
fight or a frolic. No one was more quick than Si to offer a suffering
comrade the last drop of fresh water in his canteen or give him a lift
by carrying his gun a piece.

One day the regiment started out for an easy, comfortable day's march.
The coast was clear of rebels, and there being no excuse for crowding on
the steam, the boys were allowed to take their own gait, while the
horses of the officers and cavalry had a chance to recover their wind.

It was a warm day late in October. The nights at this time were keen and
frosty, but the sun at mid-day still showed much of his Summer vigor.
Perspiration flowed freely down the faces of those wandering
Hoosiers\x97faces that were fast assuming the color of half-tanned leather
under the influence of sunshine and storm.

Once an hour there was the customary halt, when the boys would stretch
their legs by the roadside, hitching their knapsacks up under their
heads. When the allotted time had expired the bugler blew "Fall in," the
notes of which during the next two years became so familiar to the ears
of the 200th. Later in '64, the Indiana boys mingled their voices with
the rest of Sherman's hundred thousand veterans as they sang:

"I know you are tired, but still you must go Down to Atlanta to see the
big show."

The soldiers were in good spirits. As they marched they fired jests at
one another, and laughter rippled along the line.

The only thing that troubled them was the emaciated condition of their
haversacks, with a corresponding state of affairs in their several
stomachs. The Commissary Department was thoroughly demoralized. The
supply train had failed to connect, and rations were almost exhausted.
There was no prospect that the aching void would be filled, at least, in
the regular way, until they reached a certain place, which would not be
until the following day.

Strict orders against foraging were issued almost daily under the Buell
dispensation. These were often read impressively to the new troops, who,
in their simplicity, "took it all in" as military gospel.

The 200th Ind. Was Not Without Talent in Foraging 169

The effect was somewhat depressing upon the ardor with which otherwise
they would have pursued the panting pig and the fluttering fowl, and
reveled in the orchards and potato-fields. A few irrepressible fellows
managed to get a choice meal now and then\x97just enough to show that the
200th Ind. was not without latent talent in this direction, which only
needed a little encouragement to become fruitful of results.

But these orders against foraging didn't hold the soldiers of the crop
of 1861. It was like trying to carry water in a sieve. When rations were
short, or if they wanted to vary the rather monotonous bill of fare,
they always found a way to make up any existing deficiency.

On the day in question a few hints were thrown out which resulted in a
tacit understanding that, in view of the actual need of the soldiers, if
they got a good chance to pick up something the eyes of the officers
would be closed. In fact, the officers were as hungry as the men, and
hoped to come in for a "divide."

Soon after starting in the morning a persimmon tree, well laden with
fruit, was seen in a field not far from the road. About fifty men
started for it on a run, and in five minutes it was as bare as the
barren fig tree.

The persimmon has some very marked peculiarities. It is a toothsome
fruit when well ripened by frost, but if eaten before it has reached the
point of full maturity, the effect upon one's interior is unique and
startling. The pungent juices take hold of the mouth and pucker it up in
such manner as to make even speech for a time impossible. The tongue
seems as if it were tied in a knot. If the juice be swallowed, similar
results follow all along its course. But the novice does not often get
far enough for that.

The boys soon found that the 'simmons, although they looked very
tempting, were too green to be eaten with any degree of enjoyment. So
they filled their pockets with them to pucker up the regiment.

Shorty had joined in the scramble, telling Si he would bring him a good
supply.

"Ain't them nice?" he said to Si, holding out three or four of the
greenest ones he could find. "Eat 'em; they're jest gorjus! You can't
help likin' 'em."

Si had never seen any persimmons before. They were certainly tempting to
the eye, and he thought they were sent as manna was supplied to the
children of Israel in the wilderness.

Eagerly seizing them, Si tossed one into his mouth and began to chew it
with great vigor. The persimmon got in its work at once. It took hold
with a mighty grip, wrinkling him up like the skins on scalded milk.

After sputtering vigorously a few minutes, while Shorty laughed at him.
Si managed to get his tongue untwisted.

"Yes," said he, "them things is nice\x97in a horn! 'Twouldn't take many of
'em to make a meal!"

A little farther on Si's quick eye noticed a row of beehives standing on
a bench in the yard of one of the natives. Si had a weakness for honey.

"Shorty," said he, "see them hives over there? How'd ye like to have
some honey for supper?"

Shorty "allowed" that it would be a good thing. Si stopped and waited a
few minutes until his own regiment got past, thinking his plan would be
less liable to interruption. Then he leaped over the fence, went up to
the hives, and boldly tipped one of them over, hoping he could get out a
comb or two, fill up his coffee-kettle, and effect his retreat before
the bees really found out what he was up to.

But the bees instantly rallied their forces and made a vigorous assault
upon the invader. Si saw that it would be too hot for him, and without
standing upon the order of his going he went at once, in a decidedly
panicky state of mind. The bees made the most of their opportunity,
using their "business ends" on him with great activity and zeal. They
seemed to fully' share the common feeling in the South toward the
"Yanks."

Si Beat a Retreat 171

A pretty woman, standing on the porch, had watched Si's raid from the
doorway. As he fell back in utter rout she screamed "Sarves ye right!"
and then sat down on the doorstep and laughed till she cried. She
enjoyed it as much as the bees did.

The latter took hold of Si in various places, and by the time he had
caught up with the regiment one eye was closed, and there was a big lump
on his nose, besides several more stings which the bees had judiciously
distributed about his person. It was very evident that he had been
overmatched and had come out second best in the encounter.

Corporal Klegg presented a picturesque appearance as he reached Co. Q.
The boys fairly yelled with delight.

"Whar's yer honey?" said Shorty. "Pears like ye waked up the wrong
passenger that time!"

Si laughed with the rest, rubbed salt on his stings, and plodded on,
consoling himself with the thought that his was not the only case in
which the merit of earnest effort had gone unrewarded.

Soon after noon the 200th came to a large patch of sweet potatoes. Si
and Shorty, as well as a good many of the rest, thought it would be a
good place to lay in a supply for supper, as they might not have another
So good a chance. From all parts of the column the men, by dozens dashed
into the field. In a moment there was a man at every hill, digging away
with his bayonet, and chucking the tempting tubers into his haversack.


173 (74K)

THERE WAS A MAN AT EVERY HILL

Two hours before going into camp the regiment passed a small spring,
around which a crowd of soldiers were struggling to fill their canteens.
There had been a long stretch without fresh water, and Si thought he
would supply himself.

"Gimme your canteen, too, Shorty, and I'll fill it!" he said.

"Here, Si, you're a bully boy, take mine!" "Mine, too!" "And mine!" said
one after another of his comrades. Si good naturedly complied and they
loaded him down with about 20 canteens.

Si Being Worked for a 'good Thing.' 175

"All right," said Si, "I'll be along with 'em full d'reckly!"

He had to wait for his turn at the spring, and by the time he had filled
all the canteens he was half an hour behind. Slinging them around his
neck he started on, with just about as big a load as he could carry.

Si forged ahead, gradually gaining a little, through the tardy movement
of the column that generally preceded going into camp. The canteen
straps chafed his shoulders, his back ached, and perspiration streamed
from every pore. The smoke of the campfires ahead told that the end of
the day's march was near. He kept on and finally came up with Co. Q just
as the 200th was stacking arms on the bank of a clear stream.

Si threw down his burdens of canteens, himself thoroughly blown and
well-nigh exhausted.

"Purty good load, wasn't it, Si?" said Shorty. "But what made ye lug all
that water in here? When ye saw they was goin' into camp ahead ye might
ha' knowed there was plenty o' water. Why in blazes didn't ye turn the
water out o' them 'ere canteens?"

"I'll be hanged if I thought o' that!" said Si, while the boys joined in
a hearty laugh.

At the command "Break ranks" there was a general scamper to engage in
the work of getting supper and preparing to spend the night with as much
comfort as possible. The members of each mess scattered in all
directions for water, rails, straw, etc., while some went out to scour
the adjacent region for edibles.

These exercises the soldiers always entered into with the heartiest
gusto, and the scene will be well remembered by all those who marched.

Si threw off his traps and dropped on the ground to rest a few minutes.
He got up presently to scratch around with the rest. As he took hold of
his haversack he was surprised at its lightness. When he laid it down it
was bulging out with sweet potatoes, and a glance showed him that these
were all gone.

"Dern my buttons!" exclaimed Si, as he forgot his weariness, and his
eyes flashed fire. "If I am a Corporal, I kin jest mash the feller that
stole my 'taters, I don't keer if he's ten foot high. Won't somebody
show 'im to me? There won't be 'nuff of 'im left to hold a fun'ral
over?"

Si pranced around in a high state of inflammation, and it is probable
that if he had found the purloiner of his provender there would have
been a harder fight than any that occurred between Buell and Bragg.

The boys winked slyly at one another, and all said it was too bad. It
was a startling case of turpitude, and Si determined to have revenge by
getting even with some other fellow, without pausing to consider the
questions of moral philosophy involved.

"Come 'long with me. Shorty!" he said to his friend, and they strode
away. Just outside the camp they came upon two members of some other new
regiment coming into camp with a fine pig slung over a pole and two or
three chickens in their hands. Shorty suggested to Si that this was a
good chance for him to even up.

"Halt, there!" shouted Si to the foragers. "We're sent out to pick up
such fellows as you!"

The effect was like a discharge from a masked battery. The men dropped
their plunder and fled in wild confusion.

"Take hold 'o that pole, Shorty!" said Si, and laying it upon their
shoulders they made a triumphant entry into camp.

There seemed to be no danger of immediate starvation in the ranks of the
200th. Each man appeared to have supplied himself during the day. On
every hand fires gleamed brightly in the gathering twilight, and around
them crowded the hungry soldiers, intent upon the simple culinary
processes incident to the evening meal.



CHAPTER XVIII. A SUNDAY OFF SI AND SHORTY GET A MUCH-NEEDED WASH-UP.

"YOU can take it easy to-day, boys, for we ain't goin' to move!" said
the Orderly of Co. Q one morning at roll-call. "The orders is for to put
the camp in nice shape, and for the men to wash up. We're goin' to have
an extra ration of soap this mornin', and you fellows want to stir
around lively and fix yerselves as if it was Sunday and ye was goin' to
meetin'. The fust thing after breakfast all hands 'll turn out and
p'leece ther camp."

"What in the world does he mean by p'leecin' the camp?" Corporal Klegg
asked Shorty, as they stood by the fire making coffee and warming up the
fragments of chicken that had been left over from supper the night
before. "I didn't c'pose," said Si, "that we 'listed to be p'leecemen!"

Shorty replied that he didn't know, but he reckoned they'd find out soon
enough. The 200th Ind. had been on the jump every day since leaving
Louisville, and this was the first time it had been called on to
"police" a camp.

As soon as breakfast was over the Orderly directed each man to provide
himself with a small bundle of sticks, made by putting together a dozen
bits of brush or "switches" three or four feet long, such as are used to
rural pedagogs to enforce discipline. These, he said, were the
implements used in policing camp, which meant brushing the leaves and
loose debris outside the grounds.

"Does Corprils have to do that sort o' thing?" asked Si. He thought army
regulations and camp usage ought to show some consideration for his
rank. "What's the use of bein' a Corporil," he said to himself, "if it
don't give a feller a chance to play off once in a while?"

"Corporals ain't no better'n anybody else," replied the Orderly, "'n'
you can jist git some brush and go to work, 'long with the rest!"

Si was disposed to grumble a little, but he obeyed orders and was soon
scratching up the leaves and dust with great zeal. He did not find it a
particularly pleasant occupation, but the camp looked so much better
when the job was done, that he thought it was not a bad thing, after
all.

"Now, Shorty," said Si, "let's go down to the creek and do our washin'.
My clothes has got to be biled, and I shouldn't wonder if yourn had,
too."

"Yes, that's a fact!" said Shorty.

They got a big camp-kettle that had been used, and would be again, for
making bean-soup, and started for the stream back of the camp. They had
no change of clothing with them. Some days before, in order to lighten
their knapsacks, they had taken out their extra shirts and drawers, tied
them in a bundle, and put them on the company wagon, and this was
somewhere back in the rear, owing to the confusion of the campaign.

"Seems to me," observed Si, "it ain't hardly a fair shake for Uncle Sam
to make us do our washin'. They ought to confiscate the niggers 'n' set
them at it; or I don't see why the Guvyment can't furnish a washin'
masheen for each comp'ny! 'Twouldn't be no more'n the square thing!"

Si Was Disposed to Grumble 181

"The wimmen does the washin', ye know, Si, up where we live," said
Shorty, "'n' I don't quite like the notion o' doin' that kind o' workt,
but I can't jest see how we're goin' to git out of it. It's got to be
done, that's sure!"

On the bank of the stream they quickly threw off their clothes for a
bath. Si cast rueful glances at his nether garments as he laid them on
the ground.

"Hadn't we better pile some rocks on 'em, Shorty?" said he. I'm affeared
if we don't they'll crawl off into the bush.

"Guess we had," replied Shorty. "I b'lieve mine's started already!"

Having made sure of them, they plunged into the water. Far up and down
the stream were hundreds of men, swimming and splashing about.

The soldiers availed themselves of every opportunity to enjoy this
luxury.

Having thoroughly performed their ablutions. Si and Shorty turned their
energies toward the clothes, which were in such sore need of soap and
hot water. Putting their garments into the kettle and filling it with
water, they built a fire under it. After half an hour of vigorous
boiling they concluded they were "done." Plenty of soap, rubbing and
rinsing finished the work, and the clothes sure presented a remarkable
appearance, particularly the blue trousers.

"How're we going to git 'em dry?" asked Si, as he wrung out the last of
his "wash."

"Hang 'em on the fence in the sun!" replied Shorty.

"But what'll we wear while they're dryin'?"

"Nothin', I reckon!"

So they spread out their garments, and then dashed again into the water.
After splashing awhile they came out and drew on their half-dried
trousers. Shorty lighted his pipe as they sat down to wait for the
sunshine to do its perfect work. All along the stream were soldiers in
similar stages of dishabille. It seemed like the Garden of Eden.

Showing the Old Man a Trick 183

"Say, Shorty," said Si, "'taint very wicked to smoke, is it?"

"Guess not!" was the reply.

"That's the way it 'pears to me, 'n' I've been kinder thinkin' lately
that I'd learn how. The soljers all seem to enjoy their smokin' so much.
You know. Shorty, that I was always a reel good boy\x97never smoked, nor
chawed terbacker, nor cussed, nor done nothin' that was out o' the
straight an' narrer way. When I jined the regiment my good old mother
says to me: 'Now, Si,' says she, 'I do hope ye'll 'member what I've
always taught ye. I've beam 'em tell that they does dretful things in
the army, and I want ye to see if ye can't be as good a boy as ye've
been at home.' Of course, I told her I would, 'n' I mean, ter stick to
it; but I don't b'lieve there's any harm in smokin'. Is it hard to
learn?"

"Wall, I dunno; I reck'n ye can't most always tell till ye try. Take a
whiff, 'nd see how she goes!" And Shorty handed him his pipe, which he
had just refilled with whittlings of black "navy plug."

"Derned if I don't try it!" said Si, as he took the pipe and began to
puff with great energy. He made a few wry faces at first, but Shorty
told him to stick to it, and he bravely pulled away while the clouds of
smoke curled above him.

It was not long till the color left his face, his head was in a whirl,
and his stomach began to manifest eruptive symptoms.

"Shorty," he gasped, "I'm awful sick. If smokin' makes a feller feel
like this I don't want any more of it in mine."

"Where's all yer sand ye brag so much about?" said Shorty, laughing.
"You're mighty poor timber for a soljer if ye can't stand a little pipe
o' terbacker like that. You'll get over it purty soon, and it won't
bother ye any next time ye try it."

Si found that he had on hand about as much as he could manage with his
dizzy head and the rebellion that was so actively going on at a point a
little lower in his physical system. The feeling wore gradually off,
however, and by the time he was able to walk their clothes were well
dried. They proceeded to "dress up," and then returned to camp.

During the afternoon the camp was visited by natives, black and white,
from the region round about, with corn "pones," alleged pies, boiled
eggs, and truck of various kinds, which they sought to dispose of for a
valuable consideration. They struck a bad crowd, however, in a financial
sense. The members of the 200th Ind. were not at this time in a
condition of opulence. Most of them had spent what money they brought
from home, and they had not been out long enough yet to receive a visit
from the Paymaster. The lank men and scrawny women cried their wares
vociferously, but with indifferent results. The boys wanted the stuff,
but they were "busted," and trade was dull.

Si looked wistfully at the "pies," and suggested to Shorty a joint
investment. Their purses were nearly empty, but the temptation was too
strong to be resisted.

"Them looks nice," said Si. They were the first pies he had seen since
leaving home, and his judgment was a little "off." As a matter of fact,
it was only by the greatest stretch of courtesy that they could be
called pies at all. But the word touched Si in a tender spot, and he
only thought of such as his mother used to make.

Si and Shorty "pooled in" and bought a pie. Impatiently whipping out his
pocket knife Si tried to cut it in two. It was hard work, for the
"crust"\x97so called\x97was as tough as the hide of a mule. By their united
efforts they at length succeeded in sawing it asunder. It was a fearful
and wonderful specimen of culinary effort. It was made of two slabs of
sodden, leathery dough, with a very feeble layer of dried apples
sandwiched between them.

Si tried his teeth on the pie, but it was like trying to chew an old
boot-leg.

"I say, old lady," said he, turning to the female of whom he had bought
it, "is these pies pegged or sewed?"

"Look a hyar, young feller," said the woman, with considerable vinegar
in her tone, "p'raps you-uns-all thinks it's right smart to insult we-
uns; it shows how yer wuz broughten up. I don't 'low yer ever seed any
nicer dog-g-goned pies 'n them is. Ye needn't try ter argify 'long 'th
me, fur I kin jest knock the spots off'n any woman there is 'round here
in cookin'."

Si saw that it would be profitless to discuss the matter, and concluded
to make the best of a bad bargain. But he wouldn't eat the pie.

On the whole, the hucksters fared rather badly. The boys confiscated
most of the stuff that was brought in, promising to pay next time they
came that way. There was a good deal of grumbling, but the trouble
always ended in the soldiers getting the plunder.

The climax was reached when a putty-faced citizen drove into camp a bony
mule tied with straps and ropes and strings to a crazy cart, on which
was a barrel of cider, which he "allowed" to sell out to the boys at 10
cents a drink, or a quarter a canteen full. He had a spigot rigged up in
one end and an old tin cup, with which he dealt out the seductive
beverage to such as would pay.

A thirsty crowd gathered around him, but sales were slow, on account of
the scarcity of money. Si and Shorty mingled with the boys, and then
drew aside and engaged in a whispered consultation.

"That'll be jest bully!" said Shorty. "If you can raise an auger
somewhere we'll git the bulge on that old chap."

Waiting for Their Clothes to Dry 187

Si returned after a brief absence, with an auger which he had borrowed
from the driver of an ammunition wagon.

"Now, Shorty," said Si, "you git the boys to stand around and keep up a
racket, and I'll crawl under the cart and bore a hole into that 'ere
barrel. Then pass in yer canteens and army kettles 'n' we'll show the
old man a trick!"

Shorty quietly broached the scheme to a few of his comrades, who fell in
with it at once. Gathering around the cart, they cheered and chattered
so as to drown any noise Si might make while carrying out his plan, and
which would "give it away."

It was not more than a minute till a gurgling sound was heard, and Si
began to pass out to the boys the buckets and canteens which they so
freely furnished him, filled with the fast-flowing contents of the
barrel. It didn't take long to empty it entirely, nor did the citizen
discover the state of affairs until the cider no longer ran from the
spigot.

He had not sold more than a gallon or two, and he was amazed when the
liquid ceased to respond. Then he resolved himself into an investigating
committee, and after a protracted search he discovered the trick that
had been played on him.

"Wall, I'll be gosh-durned!" he exclaimed. "I've hearn tell 'bout Yankee
tricks, but dog my cats if this 'ere don't beat 'em all! I'd like to cut
the gizzard outen the rascal that bored the hole in that bar'l!"

"I declare, old pard; that was mean!" said Si, who stood looking on,
with his hands in his trousers pockets, the very picture of innocence.
"I'm jist goin' to flax 'round 'n' help ye find that feller. If I was
you I'd pound the stuffin' out of him\x97when ye cotch him!"



CHAPTER XIX. A CLOSE CALL CORPORAL KLEGG HAS AN EXCITING ADVENTURE
GUARDING A FORAGE TRAIN.

"COMPANY Q's bin detailed to go out 'n' help guard a forage train to-
morrow," said the Orderly one evening at roll-call. "You fellers wants
to all be up 'n' dressed bright 'n' early, with yer cartridge-boxes full
'n' a day's rations in yer haversacks. Be sure yer guns is in good
order, fer likely's not we'll have a squirmish afore we git back."

The 200th Ind. had been lying in camp for two or three days, and the
ambitious heroes who composed that regiment were getting tired of
loafing about. Nothing chafed the raging patriotism of the new troops
like a condition, however brief, of masterly inactivity. They refused to
be comforted unless they were on the warpath all the time. Their ideal
of a soldier's life was to take a rebel battery every morning before
breakfast, storm a line of works to give them an appetite for dinner,
and spend the afternoon charging with cold steel the serried columns of
the foe and wading around through seas of gore.

So Corporal Klegg and Shorty and the rest of the boys betook themselves
with alacrity to the work of preparation for the duties of the morrow.
Members of the other companies watched the proceedings with jealous eye.
They almost turned green with envy because they were not detailed for
the expedition instead of Co. Q.

"Say, Si," remarked Shorty, thoughtfully, "hadn't we better write a
letter home? Who knows but we'll be as dead as mackerels to-morrer
night!"

"Fiddlesticks!" said Si. "What's the use o' havin' a funeral afore
there's any corpse! We've bin through one fight 'n' didn't git hurt, 'n'
I've made up my mind there's no use gittin' into a stew over a thing
that may hap'n 'n' may not. Time 'nuff to fret 'bout it when it comes. I
recolleck one thing I learned in Sunday-school\x97let's see, it was
'S'ficient unto the day is the evil thereof,' or suthin' like that.
Strikes me that's a good passidge o' Scripter fer a soldier to keep
pasted in his hat. I ain't goin' ter hang back fer fear a billit 'll hit
me, nuther. If we're going to be killed we can't help it, so let's not
fret our gizzards out!" And Si crammed a handful of hardtack into his
haversack.

Si's cheery view of the case was not without its effect upon Shorty.
Indeed, it cannot be denied that there was a great deal of common sense
in his homely, good-natured philosophy. Sooner or later every soldier
who did not "peter out" came gradually to adopt Si's idea as the
governing principle of his military career.

"Shouldn't wonder if you was 'bout right, after all," said Shorty, as he
sliced up some bacon to have it ready for an early breakfast. "You're
better'n medicine, Si, to a feller w'at gits the blues sometimes!"

The preparations were soon made, and Co. Q went to bed early. In the
morning the Orderly came around and stirred the boys up an hour before
reveille, as they were ordered to be ready to start at daylight. The
primary object of the expedition was forage for the animals, the supply
of which had run short. Besides this, each man had a secondary purpose,
and that was to gather in something on his own hook that would satisfy
his longing for a change from the regulation diet. This was always the
unwritten part of the order to "go out foraging." Daylight was just
streaking over the camp when Co. Q, equipped in light marching order,
leaving knapsacks behind, moved out to where the half dozen wagons
detailed from the regimental transportation were ready for the start.
Each regiment in the brigade furnished a company and the same number of
wagons. The impatient mules were braying and flapping their ears, as if
they understood that they were to be the chief beneficiaries of the
raid.

"Pile in, boys!" said the Orderly, and they clambered into the wagons.
The guards were permitted to ride until there were symptoms of danger.

Then the muleteers, bestriding the big "wheelers," cracked their long
whips like pistol-snots, addressed to the mules the usual words of
exhortation, and the long procession drew out upon the stony pike and
took a brisk trot. Considerable foraging had already been done in the
vicinity, and it was expected the train would have to go out several
miles in order to fully accomplish its object. The boys were in fine
spirits and enjoyed their morning ride, albeit the jolting of the wagons
gave them a thorough shaking up.

"I guess they forgot to put any springs in when they built these
wagons!" said Shorty, as he shifted his position so that he might catch
the bumps in a new place for a while.

"Jest thinkin' that way myself," replied Si; "but all the same, it beats
travelin' on the hoof all holler!"

Three or four miles out from camp the train was halted while the
officers in command made inquiries of a cadaverous native who was
sunning himself on the fence and whose principal occupation seemed to be
chewing tobacco and distributing the resultant liquid around in a
promiscuous way.

"Good morning, stranger," said the officer, "have you any corn on your
place?"

"Haint got a dog-goned ear left!" was the surly answer. "Some o' you-
unses men wuz out here yisterdy 'n' tuk every bit I hed."

This may or may not have been true. Inquiries of this nature always
developed the fact that it was a man's neighbors who had plenty of corn;
he never had any himself.

"There's ole man Scroggs," he continued; "he lives a matter of two miles
from hyar. I 'low ye'll git sum if ye go thar. He growed a power o' cawn
this yeah; he sold a heap, but I reckon he's got a right smart left."

During this time a couple of men had been making a hasty examination of
the outbuildings on the place. They reported that they could find
nothing in the way of forage. If the man had any corn he had carefully
concealed it. The train started on to pay a visit to old man Scroggs.

"Say, old pard," asked Si as his wagon drove past, "is there any rebs
'round here?"

"There wuz a few Confedrit critter-men ridin' 'bout hyar this
mawnin';\x97mebby ye'll run agin 'em 'afore night."

"How many o' your boys is among em?"

"We'uns is all Union."

"Jest as long as we're 'round, I s'pose!" said Si.

A mile further on those who were in the lead, rising to the crest of a
hill, saw\x97or thought they saw a few vagrant cavalrymen far ahead. The
train was halted and dispositions were made to meet any emergency likely
to arise. The men were ordered to "tumble out" of the wagons. The main
body was formed in advance. A line of skirmishers was deployed in front
and flankers were thrown out on either side. Thus protected, the mule
drivers again cracked their whips and the procession moved cautiously
forward.

"Now keep yer eyes skinned," said Si to Shorty as they trailed along
through the woods and fields and over fences, on one of the flanks. "If
any of them raskils comes dodgin' 'round here let's try 'n' have the
first crack at 'em 'n' git the bulge on the rest o' the boys!"

Keenly alert, with muskets loaded and capped, they crept carefully
along, poking their noses into every thicket and peering around every
building. It was clear that there would not be anything in the nature of
a surprise if the whole line was as well taken care of as the particular
point guarded by Corporal Klegg and his faithful friend Shorty.

"It's some like huntin' squirrels up in the woods of Posey County," said
Si, as they forced their way through a patch of brambles.

"'Pears to be rayther more excitin' than huntin' squirrels," said
Shorty. "Ye know squirrels doesn't shute back at a feller as them pesky
rebbles does, an' the fun 's all on one side. I reckon ef squirrels c'd
shute there wouldn't be so much huntin' of 'em!"

It was really a disappointment to Si that he found no opportunity to
squint along the barrel of his musket in range of a foe. If any of his
misguided fellow-citizens were in the neighborhood they considered
discretion the better part of valor and kept out of harm's way.

In due time the Scroggs plantation was reached. A hasty examination
showed that there was an abundance of corn on the place to load the
wagons, and arrangements for a sudden transfer of the property were
quickly made. A third of the force established a cordon of picket-posts
around the marauding party, covering all the avenues of approach, with
re serves at convenient points. The remainder of the troops stacked arms
and entered briskly upon the work of confiscation.

An Assault on the Well-filled Corn Crib 191

Part of the harvest had already been gathered, and the first assault

was made on a well-filled cornhouse\x97one of a group of dilapidated out-
buildings a little way from the dwelling. "Old man" Scroggs protested
with profane vehemence, reinforced by the "old woman" and the entire
family of children. We say "entire family," because there could not well
have been a more numerous progeny in one household anywhere outside of
Utah.

The head of the family cursed and swore, and his wife and the big girls
looked as if they wanted to do the same thing, as they stood wringing
their hands, their eyes flashing fire while the small-fry stood around
and sobbed with a vague idea that some dire calamity had befallen them.

The old Kentuckian declared that he was a "Union man," and that he would
demand of the Government full revenge for this outrage. It was noticed
that there were no young men around as there should be according to the
economy of nature, to preserve the balance of sex in so large a family.
The officer in command asked him where all his sons were.

"Wall, I kaint tell yer 'zactly whar they is," was the reply. "They
ain't to hum jest now. I 'low they've got a right to g'way ef they want
ter."

The officer had been informed that there were several representatives of
the Scroggs family in the rebel army. The old man's avowal of loyalty
was taken for what it was worth. That it was not rated at a high figure
was well attested by the appearance of the plantation a few hours later.

Meanwhile the soldiers kept right along in the duty assigned them. The
corn-house was surrounded by wagons, the roof was gently lifted off, and
in scarcely more time than it takes to tell the story six or eight of
the wagons were heaped with the contents. The mules wagged their tails
and brayed in anticipation of the picnic they would have when they got
back to camp.

Then the force moved some distance and attacked a large field of
standing corn. The stalks had been "topped," but the ears were yet
ungathered. The men started in between the rows and swept through that
field like a cyclone, plucking the ears right and left. Bags, baskets
and boxes were pressed into the service, and as there were not enough of
these to go' round many bore the corn to the wagons by armfuls. It did
not take more than two or three hours to strip every ear from the field.
A visitation of overgrown Kansas grasshoppers could not have done a more
thorough job.

"Fo' de Lawd, boss," said an old darky who had been roosting on the
fence watching the spoilers, "I nebber seed de crap gaddered so quick
since I'se bawn. You'uns all is powerful smart, da't shuah!"

But where were Corporal Klegg and his comrade. Shorty, while all this
was going on?

They had been stationed as sentinels near a house, half a mile beyond,
on the pike. They were cautioned to keep a sharp lookout, and for a time
they obeyed their instructions to the letter. Their vigilant eyes swept
the surrounding country, and no rebel could have crept up on them
without getting a pair of bullets from their ready muskets. They saw no
signs of an enemy, and after a while it began to grow monotonous.

"Shorty," said Si, "I don't b'lieve there's any seceshers in these
parts, an' there ain't any use'n us both keepin' this thing up. You jest
watch out awhile 'n' I'll skin around 'n' see what I kin find."

Shorty agreed to this, taking it as an order from his superior officer.
Si threw his gun up to a "right shoulder shift" and started off, after
again urging upon his companion the importance of attending strictly to
business.

Si had not gone far till he saw, penned in a corner of the barnyard, a
cow with a full udder, from which a frisky young calf was busily engaged
in pumping nourishment. A violent feeling of envy toward that calf began
immediately to rage in the 'breast of Si. He had not had a draft of
fresh milk since he had left home, and he felt that a little refreshment
of that kind would be particularly gratifying to his interior organism.
It would strengthen him and give him new courage to stand up to the rack
if they should happen to get into a fight.

"I say. Shorty," he called, "cum 'ere a minnit, quick!"

Si's conscience smote him for calling Shorty from his duty and leaving
the post unguarded, but the temptation was too strong for him to resist,
and he yielded to the impulse to take the chances. Shorty came on the
run, with eyes wide open, thinking his comrade had discovered some
rebels hanging around.

"Look there!" said Si, pointing to the maternal scene that has been
alluded to. "Let's have some o' that. We'll git over the fence 'n' you
jest hold the calf while I milk our canteens full. 'Twont take more'n a
jiffy!"

"We ort n't to leave the post, ort we?" suggested Shorty.

"Oh, there ain't no danger," Si replied; "an' besides, you can keep
lookin' out while you're hangin' on to the calf. I was alters a good
milker 'n' I'll fill up these canteens in a couple o' minnits." So they
climbed over and leaned their muskets against the fence. Shorty seized
the calf and held it with a firm grip, in spite of its struggling and
bleating. The cow seemed disposed at first to resent the interference,
but Si's persuasive "So, bossy" proved effectual in calming her fears,
and she stood placidly chewing her cud while Si, spurred on by a guilty
conscience, milked with all his might.

Shorty Held the Calf 195

The canteens were soon filled, and, with out stopping to drink. Si and
Shorty hurried back to their post of duty. All was quiet, and no harm
had resulted from their brief absence.

"I told ye 'twould be all right," said Si. "Now, we'll jest empty one o'
these canteens\x97here, take a swig\x97'n' we'll carry the other to camp.
It'll be jest bully to have milk in our coffee agin!"

Then they betook themselves to duty with redoubled vigilance, to atone
for their derelictions. After watching for an hour without seeing
anything, Si said he would take another little turn around the place.

Boldly advancing to the house, which was some distance in front of their
post, he was met by a girl of about 18. She was rather pretty, but to
Si's ardent imagination she was like a vision of surpassing loveliness.
She greeted him pleasantly\x97for Si was a comely youth\x97and, if the truth
must be told, he actually forgot for the moment all about his duty. When
she said she would get him a good dinner, and invited him into the house
to sit while she prepared it, he just went right along.

But his conscience began to thump so loudly that after a few minutes he
told her he guessed he'd have to go, but would be delighted to return in
an hour and partake of her hospitality.

"May I bring Shorty\x97he's my pard\x97'long with me?" he timidly asked.

"Certainly!" she replied, with a sweet smile; and Si went away, his
nerves tingling with pleasant emotions to the very tips of his fingers.

"Shorty," he said, as he came up to "I've struck it this time. Over to
that house there's the purtiest gal I ever see."

"Wha-a-a-a-t!" interjected Shorty, with a look of astonishment; for he
knew something about Si and Annabel\x97the girl he left behind him\x97and he
was both surprised and pained at Si's treasonable enthusiasm.

Si easily divined his thoughts, for something of the same nature had
already caused his own heart to palpitate in a reproving way.

"Of\x97c-c-course\x97I d-d-don't\x97mean th-th-that. Shorty," he stammered "but
she's a nice girl, anyhow, 'n' she's gittin' up a dinner fer me 'n' you.
Bet ye it'll be a nice lay-out, too!"

Shorty did not feel quite at ease in his mind about leaving the post
again, but Si assured him it would be all right. The peculiar
circumstances of the case had sadly warped Si's judgment.

So they went to the house and were cordially greeted by their fair young
hostess, who was flying around, putting the finishing touches to the
meal she had prepared for them.

"Jiminy, don't that smell good?" said Si to Shorty in an undertone, as
his sensitive nostrils caught the savory odors that arose from the
nicely-spread board.

The young soldiers stood their guns on the floor in a corner of the
room, preliminary to an assault on the edibles.

"Ugh!" exclaimed the young woman, with a coquettish shiver, "be them
awful things loaded?"

"N\x97no!" said Si; "they won't hurt ye if ye don't touch 'em!"

Si was learning to fib a little, and he wanted to quiet the girl's
fears.

The boys were soon seated at the table, bountifully supplied with ham,
chicken, eggs, bread and butter, honey, and all the accessories of a
well-ordered repast. They fell to with an eagerness that was, perhaps,
justified by the long time that had elapsed since they had had a "square
meal." Si thought that never in his life had anything tasted so good.

While they were thus engaged, without a thought of impending danger, the
girl suddenly opened the door, leading to the dining room. A wild-eyed
man\x97who proved to be her brother\x97in the uniform of a rebel soldier,
dashed in, and, presenting a cocked revolver, demanded their
unconditional and immediate surrender.

They were in a tight place. But Si proved equal to the sudden and
appalling emergency. It flashed through his mind in an instant how the
girl had "played it" on him. He made up his mind that he would rather be
shot than be captured under such circumstances.

Si Sprang Upon Him 199

Si sprang up, and the rebel, true to his word, fired. Si dodged, and the
ball only chipped a piece from his left ear. There was not time to get
and use his gun. With the quickness of a cat Si sprang upon him, and
with a blow of his fist laid him sprawling upon the floor. Disarming
him, he placed the revolver at his head and triumphantly exclaimed:

"Now, gol durn ye, you're my prisoner. I'd like to blow the top o' yer
head off fer spilin' my dinner, but I won't do it this time. But you
jist git up 'n' come 'long with me!"

With his complete mastery of the situation, Si's confidence returned,
and Shorty, who had been dazed and helpless at first, recovered himself
and came to his assistance.

But at this instant their ears caught the sound of horses' hoofs
galloping down the pike. Si's quick perception told him that is was a
dash of rebel cavalrymen, and that a few moments later escape would be
impossible.

"Grab yer gun an' git!" he said to Shorty, at the same time casting one
ferocious glance at the terrified girl, who stood, white and speechless,
contemplating the scene.

Si and Shorty dashed out of the house and started for the reserve, at
the highest speed of which their legs were capable. On clattered the
horses, and a few shots from the carbines of the swift-riding horsemen
whistled through the air.

Six feet at a jump, with thumping hearts and bulging eyes, the fugitives
almost flew over the ground, throwing quick glances at their pursuers,
and then ahead, in the hope of catching a glimpse of succor.

'shorty if We--only Git--out O' This--' 203

"Shorty, if we only git out o' this\x97" but Si found he hadn't any wind to
spare to finish the sentence. We must leave to the reader's imagination
the good resolutions as to his future conduct that were forming in Si's
mind at this critical juncture. He saw the awful consequences of
yielding to the influence of that alluring young woman and her seductive
dinner. What he had read about Adam and the trouble Eve got him into, in
pretty much the same way, flashed before him. It was a good time to
resolve that he wouldn't do so any more.

Shorty, long and lank, was swifter on his feet than Si. Hardtack and
bacon had not yet reduced the latter's surplus flesh to a degree that
enabled him to run well. Shorty kept ahead, but would not desert his
comrade, slowing up for an instant now and then to give Si, who was
straining to the utmost every nerve, and puffing like a locomotive on an
upgrade, a chance to keep within supporting distance.

The soldiers of the reserve taking the alarm, came out at a double-quick
and were fortunately able to cover the retreat of Si and Shorty. The
half dozen cavalrymen, upon the appearance of so large a force, turned
their horses and galloped away.

"Hello, Si," said the Orderly of Co. Q, "yer ear's bleedin'. What hurt
ye?"

"Fell down and scratched it on a brier!" said Si, as soon as he was able
to speak.

That night Si and Shorty sat on a log by the campfire talking over the
events of the day.

"Don't ye never blow on this thing," said Si. "It'll be a cold day for
us if they'd find it out."

"There ain't no danger o' my tellin'," replied Shorty. "But, say, ain't
that a nice girl out there?"

"She's a mean rebel, that's what she is! But that was a smart trick o'
her'n, wasn't it?"

"Come mighty near bein' too smart fer us!" replied Shorty. "I don't want
no more such close shaves in mine. You 'member the story of the spider
and the fly, don't ye? Well, she was the spider 'n' we was two poor
little fool flies!"

"Shorty," said Si, "I'd a mighty sight ruther be an angel an' have the
daisies a-bloomin' over my grave, than to have been tuk a prisoner in
that house. But that dinner was good, anyhow\x97what we got of it!"



CHAPTER XX. "THE SWEET SABBATH" HOW THE BLESSED DAY OF REST WAS SPENT IN
THE ARMY.

"TOMORROW'S Sunday, ye know," said the Orderly of Company Q one Saturday
night at roll-call.

This was in the nature of news to the boys. But for the announcement
very few of them would have known it. The Orderly was not distinguished
for his piety, and it is not likely that the approach of Sunday would
have occurred to him if the Sergeant-Major had not come around with
orders from the Colonel for a proper observance of the day. The Colonel
himself would not have thought of it either, if the Chaplain had not
reminded him of it. Everybody wondered how even the Chaplain could keep
track of the days well enough to know when Sunday came\x97but that was
chiefly what he wore shoulder-straps and drew his salary for. It was the
general impression that he either carried an almanac in his pocket, or
else a stick in which he cut a notch every day with his jack-knife, and
in that way managed to know when a new week began.

"There'll be guard-mountin' at 9 o'clock," continued the Orderly,
"regimental inspection at 10, preachin' at 11, an' dress-parade at 5 in
the evenin'. All of ye wants to tumble out right promptly at revellee
an' git yer breakfast, an' then clean up yer guns an' put all yer traps
in apple-pie order, 'cause the Colonel's goin' to look at 'em. He's got
sharp eyes, an' I reck'n he'll be mighty pertickler. If there's anything
that ain't jest right he'll see it quicker'n litenin'. Ye know we hain't
had any inspections yet, an' the Cap'n wants us to be the boss company.
So ye've got to scratch around lively in the mornin'."

"Say," said Corporal Klegg, after the company had broken ranks, "seems
to me there wa'n't no use in the Orderly tellin' us to 'scratch around,'
fer we're doin' that purty much all the time, now that the graybacks is
gittin' in their work on us."

Shorty smiled faintly at what he seemed to consider a rather feeble
joke, even for Si.

The 200th Ind. had now been in the field for many weeks, but it had been
continually cantering about the country, and the Generals had kept it
particularly active on Sundays. Probably this regiment did not manifest
any more than the average degree of enthusiasm and fervor in religious
matters, but there were many in its ranks who, at home, had always sat
under Gospel ministrations, and to tramp on Sundays, the same as other
days, was, at first, a rude shock to their moral sensibilities. These
were yet keen, the edges had not been worn off and blunted and battered
by the hard knocks of army life. True, they could scarcely tell when
Sunday came, but they knew that they kept right along every day.

"Shorty," said Si, after they had curled up under the blanket for the
night, "'pears to me it'll seem sort o' nice to keep Sunday agin. At the
rate we've bin goin' on we'll all be heathens by the time we git home\x97if
we ever do. Our Chaplain haint had no chance to preachify yet. The boys
of Comp'ny X, w'at knows him, says he's a staver, 'n' I b'lieve it'll
make us all feel better to have him talk to us once. 'Twont do us no
harm, nohow, I'd like to be home to-morrer 'n' go to church with mother,
'n' sister Marier, 'n'\x97er\x97I mean the rest of the folks. Then I'd jest
eat all the afternoon. I ain't goin' ter git homesick, Shorty; but a
feller can't help feelin' a little streaked once 'n' a while. Mebbe it's
a good idee fer 'em to keep us on the jump, fer then we don't git no
chance to think 'bout it. I don't suppose I'm the only boy 'n the
regiment that 'd be glad to git a jest fer to-morrer. I sh'd want ter be
back bright 'n' arly to fall in Monday mornin', fer I'm goin' to stick
to the 200th through thick 'n' thin, if I don't git knocked out. Say,
Shorty, how d'ye feel, any way?"

But Shorty was already fast asleep. Si spooned up to him and was soon,
in his dreams, away up in Posey County.

The sound of the bugle and drum, at daylight, fell upon unwilling ears,
for the soldiers felt the same indisposition to get up early Sunday
morning that is everywhere One of the characteristics of modern
civilization. Their beds were hard, but to their weary limbs no couch of
down ever gave more welcome rest than did the rough ground on which they
lay. But the wild yell of the Orderly, "Turn out for roll-call!" with
the thought of the penalties for non-obedience\x97which some of them had
abundant reason to remember\x97quickly brought out the laggards.

Si and Shorty were, as usual, among the first to take their places in
line. They were pleasantly greeted by the Captain, who had come out on
the run at the last moment, and wriggled himself into his coat as he
strode along the company street. The Captain did not very often appear
at morning rollcall. But one officer of the company was required to be
present, and the Captain generally loaded this duty upon the Lieutenants
"turn about." If he did show up, he would go back to bed and snooze for
an hour while the cook was getting breakfast. If one of the men did that
he would soon be promenading with a rail on his shoulder or standing on
a barrel with a stick or a bayonet tied in his mouth.

"I think that's a fust rate notion to mount the guards," said Si to
Shorty as they sat on a rail by the fire making coffee and frying bacon.
"It'll be so much better 'n walkin' back 'n' forrard on the beats.
Wonder 'f they'll give us bosses or mules to ride."

"I'd like to know what put that idee into yer head," said Shorty.

"Whydn't the Ord'ly say last night there 'd be guard-mountin' at 9
o'clock this mornin'? I s'posed that fer a man to be mounted meant
straddlin' a boss or s'mother kind of an animal."

"Ain't ye never goin' to larn nuthin'," said Shorty, with a laugh.
"Guard-mountin' don't mean fer the men to git on hosses. It's only the
name they gives it in the Army Reggelations. Dunno why they calls it
that, 'nless it's 'cause the guards has to 'mount' anybody that tries to
pass 'thout the countersign. But don't ye fool yerself with thinkin' yer
goin' to get to ride. We'll keep pluggin' along afoot, on guard or
anywhere else, same's we have all the time."

Thus rudely was shattered another of Si Klegg's bright illusions.

The whole regiment turned out to witness the ceremony of guard-mounting.
It was the first time the exigencies of the campaign had permitted the
200th Ind. to do this in regular style. The Adjutant was the most
important personage, and stood so straight that he narrowly escaped
falling over backward. In order to guard against making a mess of it, he
had spent half the night rehearsing the various commands in his tent.
Thus prepared, he managed to get through it in very fair shape.

So Straight he Leaned Backward 211

The next thing on the program for the day was the inspection. The boys
had been industriously engaged in cleaning up their muskets and
accouterments, and putting their scanty wardrobes in presentable
condition. In arranging his knapsack for the Colonel's eye, each man
carefully laid a clean shirt, if he had one, on the top. The garments
that were not clean he either stowed away in the tent or put at the
bottom of the knapsack. In this he was actuated by the same principle
that prompts the thrifty farmer to put the biggest apples and
strawberries at the top of his measure.

The clothing of the regiment was already in an advanced stage of
demoralization. It was of the "shoddy" sort that a good hard wind would
almost blow to pieces.

Corporal Klegg was anxious that not only his person, but all his
belongings, should make as good an appearance as possible. He put on the
best and cleanest garments he had, and then betook himself to fixing his
knapsack so it would pass muster.

"Them duds is a bad lot," he said to Shorty, casting rueful glances at
the little heap of soiled and ragged clothes. "Purty hard to make a
decent show with them things."

"Wait a minute," said Shorty, "an' I'll show ye a little trick."

Taking his poncho under His arm. Shorty went to the rear of the camp,
where the mules were feeding, and presently returned with a bunch of
hay.

"What ye goin' to do with that?" asked Si.

"You jest do 's I tell ye, and don't ask no questions. Cram some o' this
hay into yer knapsack 'n' fill 'er up 'n' then put a shirt or suthin',
the best ye kin find, on top, 'n' the Colonel 'll think she's full o'
clothes right from the laundry. I'm goin' to fix mine that way."

"Shorty, you're a trump!" said Si, approvingly. "That 'll be a bully
scheme."

It required but a few minutes to carry out the plan. The hay was stuffed
into the knapsack, and all vagrant spears were carefully tucked in.

Then a garment, folded so as to conceal its worst features, was nicely
spread over the hay, the flaps were closed and buckled, and the young
Hoosiers were ready for inspection.

"S'posen the Colonel sh'd take a notion to go pokin' down into them
knapsacks," said Si; "don't ye think it'd be purty cold weather for us?"

"P'r'aps it mout," answered Shorty; "but we've got ter take the chances.
He's got seven or eight hundred knapsacks to 'nspect, 'n' I don't
b'lieve he'll stick his nose down into very many on 'em!"

At the appointed time the battalion was formed and the inspection was
gone through with in good style. The Colonel and the field and staff
officers, escorted by the Captain of each successive company, moved
gradually between the ranks, their swords dangling around and getting
mixed up with their legs. The soldiers stood facing inward like so many
wooden men, with their open knapsacks lying upon the ground at their
feet. The Colonel looked sharply right and left, stopped now and then to
commend a soldier whose "straps" were in particularly good condition, or
to "go for" another whose slouchy appearance betokened untidy habits. If
a button was missing, or a shoe untied, his eye was keen to detect it,
and a word of reproof was administered to the delinquent.

As the Colonel started down the line of Company Q Si watched him out of
the corners of his eyes with no little anxiety. His heart thumped as he
saw him occasionally stoop and fumble over the contents of a knapsack,
evidently to test the truth of Longfellow's declaration that "things are
not what they seem." What if the Colonel should go down into the bowels
of Si's knapsack! Si fairly shuddered at the thought.

Si, being the shortest of the Corporals, was at the foot of the company,
while Shorty, on account of his hight, was well up toward the head. Si
almost fainted when he saw the Colonel stop in front of his "pard" and
make an examination of his fatlooking knapsack. Military official
dignity gave way when the removal of the single garment exposed the
stuffing of hay. The officers burst into a laugh at the unexpected
revelation, while the boys on either side almost exploded in their
enjoyment of Shorty's discomfiture.

Si Almost Fainted when the Colonel Stopped 215

"Captain," said the Colonel, with as much sternness as he could command,
"as soon as your company is dismissed detail a guard to take charge of
this man. Have him take the hay out of his knapsack and fill it with
stones\x97and see that it is filled full. Have this man put it on and march
him up and down the company street till church-call, and then take him
to hear the Chaplain. He needs to be preached to. Perhaps, between the
knapsack-drill and the Chaplain, we can straight him out."

Corporal Klegg heard all this, and he wished the ground might open and
swallow him. "These stripes is gone this time, sure!" he said to
himself, as he looked at the chevrons on his arm. "But there's no use
givin' yourself away, Si. Brace up, 'n' mebbe the Colonel 'll skip ye."

Si had been badly shaken up by the Colonel's episode with Shorty, but by
a great effort he gathered himself together and was at his best,
externally, when the Colonel reached him, though his thoughts were in a
raging condition. His face was clean and rosy, and his general make-up
was as good as could be expected under the circumstances.

The Colonel had always remembered Si as the soldier he had promoted to
be a Corporal for his gallantry in the little skirmish a few days
before. As he came up he greeted the Corporal with a smile and a nod of
recognition. He was evidently pleased at his tidy appearance. He cast a
glance at the voluptuous knapsack, and Si's heart seemed to sink away
down into his shoes.

But the fates smiled on Si that day. The Colonel turned to the Captain
and told him that Corporal Klegg was the model soldier of Company Q. Si
was the happiest man in the universe at that precise moment. It was not
on account of the compliment the Colonel had paid him, but because his
knapsack had escaped a critical inspection of its contents.

The inspection over, Company Q marched back to its quarters and was
dismissed. Poor Shorty was soon tramping to and fro, under guard,
humping his back to ease the load that had been put upon it. Si was very
sorry for him, and at the same time felt a glow of pleasure at the
thought that it was not his own knapsack instead of Shorty's that the
Colonel had examined. He could not help feeling, too, that it was a
great joke on Shorty to be caught in his own trap.

Shorty Was There--with a Guard 217

Shorty took his medicine like a man, marching up and down the row of
tents bravely and patiently, unheeding the gibes and jeers of his hard-
hearted comrades.

The bugle sounded the call for religious services. Shorty was not in a
frame of mind that fitted him for devout worship. In fact, few in the
regiment had greater need of the regenerating influence. He had never
been inside of a church but two or three times in his life, and he
really felt that to be compelled to go and listen to the Chaplain's
sermon was the hardest part of the double punishment the Colonel had
inflicted upon him.

The companies were all marched to a wooded knoll just outside the camp.
Shorty went by himself, save the companionship of the guard, with fixed
bayonet. He had been permitted to leave his knapsack behind. He was
taken to a point near the Chaplain, that he might get the full benefit
of the preacher's words.

Under the spreading trees, whose foliage was brilliant with the hues of
Autumn, in the mellow sunshine of that October day the men seated
themselves upon the ground to hear the Gospel preached. The Chaplain, in
his best uniform, stood and prayed fervently for Divine guidance and
protection and blessing, while the soldiers listened, with heads
reverently bowed. Then he gave out the familiar Methodist hymn,

"Am I a soldier of the cross,"

and all joined in the old tune "Balerma," their voices swelling in
mighty chorus. As they sang,

"Are there no foes for me to face?"

there came to the minds of many a practical application of the words, in
view of the long and fruitless chase after the rebels in which they had
been engaged for nearly a month.

The Chaplain had formerly been an old-fashioned Methodist circuit-rider
in Indiana. He was full of fiery zeal, and portrayed the terrors of
eternal punishment so vividly that His hearers could almost feel the
heat of the flame and smell the fumes of brimstone that are popularly
believed to roll out unceasingly from the mouth of the bottomless pit.
It ought to have had a salutary effect upon Shorty, but it is greatly to
be feared that he steeled his stubborn heart against all that the
Chaplain said.

It was always difficult not to feel that there was something
contradictory and anomalous about religious services in the army. Grim-
visaged, hideous war, and all its attendant circumstances, seemed so
utterly at variance with the principles of the Bible and the teachings
of Him who was meek and lowly, that few soldiers had philosophy enough
to reconcile them.

The soldiers spent the afternoon in reading what few stray books and
fugitive, well-worn newspapers there were in camp, mending their
clothes, sleeping, and some of them, we are pained to add, in playing
eucher, old sledge, and other sinful games. Dress parade closed the day
that had brought welcome rest to the way-worn soldiers of the 200th
Ind..

"Shorty," said Si, after they had gone to bed that night, "I sh'd be
mighty sorry if I'd ha' got up that knapsack trick this mornin', 'cause
you got left on it so bad."

"There's a good many things," replied Shorty, "that's all right when ye
don't git ketched. It worked tip top with you, Si, 'n' I'm glad of it.
But I put ye up to it, 'n' I shouldn't never got over it if the Colonel
had caught ye, on account of them stripes on yer arm. He'd ha' snatched
'em baldheaded, sure's yer born. You're my pard, 'n' I'm jest as proud
of 'em as you be yerself. I'm only a privit,' 'n' they can't rejuce me
any lower! Besides, I 'low it sarved me right 'n' I don't keer fer the
knapsack drill, so I didn't git you into a scrape."



CHAPTER XXI. SI AND SHORTY WERE RAPIDLY LEARNING THE GREAT MILITARY
TRUTH

THAT IN THE ARMY THE MOST LIKELY THING TO HAPPEN IS SOMETHING ENTIRELY
UNLIKELY.

COL. TERRENCE P. McTARNAGHAN, as his name would indicate, had first
opened his eyes where the blue heavens bend over the evergreen sod of
Ireland. Naturally, therefore, he thought himself a born soldier, and
this conviction had been confirmed by a year's service as Second
Lieutenant of Volunteers in the Mexican War, and subsequent connection
with the Indiana Militia. Being an Irishman, when he went in for
anything, and especially soldiering, he went in with all his might. He
had associated with Regular Army officers whenever there was an
opportunity, and he looked up to them with the reverence and emulation
that an amateur gives to a professional. Naturally he shared their idea
that an inspection and parade was the summit of military art.
Consequently, the main thing to make the 200th Ind. the regiment it
should be were frequent and rigid inspections.

Fine weather, two days of idleness, and the prospect that the regiment
would remain there some time watching the crossing of the Cumberland
were enough and more than enough to set the Colonel going. The Adjutant
published the following order:

Headquarters 200th Indiana, In the Field, on the Cumberland,

Nov. 25, 1862.

I. The Regiment will be paraded for inspection tomorrow afternoon at 4
o'clock.

II. Captains will be expected to parade the full strength of their
companies.

III. A half hour before the parade. Captains will form their companies
in the company streets and inspect every man.

IV. The men will be required to have their clothes neatly brushed,
blouses buttoned up, clean underclothes, shoes blacked, letters and
numbers polished, and arms and accouterments in best condition. They
will wear white gloves.

V. The man who has his clothes, arms and accouterments in the best order
will be selected for the Colonel's Orderly.

By command of

Attest: COL. TERRENCE P. McTARNAGHAN, Colonel.

B. B. LAUGHLIN, Adjutant.

When Capt. McGillicuddy marched Co. Q back to its street, he called
attention to the order with a few terse admonitions as to what it meant
to every one.

"Get at this as soon as you break ranks, boys," urged the Captain. "You
can do a whole lot between now and tattoo. The others will, and you must
not let them get ahead of you. No straw in knapsacks this time."

Company spirit was high, and it would be little short of a calamity to
have Co. Q beaten in anything.

There was a rush to the Sutler for white gloves, blacking, needles,
thread, paper collars, sweet oil and rotten stone for the guns.

That genial bird of prey added 50 per cent to his prices, because it was
the first business he had done for some weeks; 50 per cent more for
keeping open in the evening, another 50 per cent for giving credit till
pay day, and still another for good will.

The Government had just offered some very tempting gold-interest bonds,
of which he wanted a swad.

"'Tain't right to let them green boys have their hull $13 a month to
waste in foolishness," he said. "Some good man should gather it up and
make a right use of it."

Like Indiana farmer boys of his class. Si Klegg was cleanly but not
neat. Thanks to his mother and sisters, his Sunday clothes were always
"respectable," and he put on a few extra touches when he expected to
meet Annabel. He took his first bath for the year in the Wabash a week
or two after the suckers began to run, and his last just before the
water got so cold as to make the fish bite freely.

Such a thing as a "dandy" was particularly distasteful to him.

"Shorty," said Si, as he watched some of the boys laboring with
sandpaper, rotten stone and oil to make the gunbarrels shine like
silver, "what's the cense o' bein' so partickler about the outside of a
gun? The business part's inside. Making them screw heads look like beads
don't make it no surer of gitting Mr. Butternut."

"Trouble about you folks on the Wabash," answered Shorty, as he twisted
a screw head against some emery paper, "is that you don't pay enough
attention to style. Style goes a long ways in this vain and wicked
world," (and his eyes became as if meditating on worlds he had known
which were not so vain and wicked), "and when I see them Kokomo
persimmon knockers of Co. B hustling to put on frills, I'm going to beat
'em if I don't lay up a cent."

"Same here," said Si, falling to work on his gunbarrel. "Just as' nice
people moved into Posey County as squatted in Kokomo. Gang o' hoss
thieves first settled Howard County."

"Recollect that big two fister from Kokomo who said he'd knock your head
off if you ever throwed that up to him again?" grinned Shorty. "You
invited him to try it on, an' he said your stripes stopped him. You
pulled off your blouse, and you said you had no stripes on your shirt
sleeves. But I wouldn't say it again until those Co. B fellers try again
to buck us out of our place in the ration line. It's too good a slam to
waste."

Tattoo sounded before they had finished their guns and accouterments.
These were laid aside to be completed in the full light of day.

The next morning work was resumed with industry stimulated by reports of
the unusual things being done by the other companies.

"This Tennessee mud sticks closer'n a $500 mortgage to a 40-acre tract,"
sighed Si, as he stopped beating and brushing his blouse and pantaloons.

"Or, "'Aunt Jemima's plaster, "The more you try to pull it off the more
it sticks the faster."

hummed Shorty, with what breath he had left from his violent exercise.

So well did they work that by dinner time they felt ready for
inspection, careful reconnoissances of the other companies showing them
to have no advantages.

Next to the Sutler's for the prescribed white gloves.

Si' had never worn anything on his hands but warm, woolen mittens knit
for him by his mother, but the order said white gloves, and gloves they
must have. The accommodating sutler made another stoppage in their
month's pay of $1 for a pair of cheap, white cotton gloves. By this time
the sutler had accumulated enough from the 200th Ind. to secure quite a
handful of gold interest-bearing bonds.

"Well, what do you think of them. Si?" said Shorty, as he worked his
generous hands into a pair of the largest sized gloves and held them up
to view.

"If they were only painted yaller and had a label on them," said Si,
"they could be issued for Cincinnati canvas covered hams."

Shorty's retort was checked by hearing the bugle sound the officers'
call. The Colonel announced to them that owing to the threatening look
of the skies the parade and inspection would take place in an hour.

There was feverish haste to finish undone things, but when Capt.
McGillicuddy looked over his men in the company street, he declared
himself proud to stack up Co. Q against any other in the regiment. Gun
barrels and bayonets shone like silver, rammers rang clear, and came out
without a stain to the Captain's white gloves.

The band on the parade ground struck up the rollicking

"O, ain't I glad to git out of the wilderness, Out of the wilderness-Out
of the wilderness,"

and Capt. McGillicuddy marched proudly out at the head of 75 broad-
shouldered, well-thewed young Indianians, fit and fine as any south of
the Ohio.

The guides, holding their muskets butts up, indicated where the line was
to form, the trim little Adjutant, glorious as the day in a new uniform
and full breasted as a pouter-pigeon, was strutting over toward the
band, and the towering red-headed Colonel, martial from his waving plume
to his jangling spurs, stood before his tent in massive dignity, waiting
for the color company to come up and receive the precious regimental
standard.

This scene of orderly pomp and pageantry was rudely disturbed by an Aid
dashing in on a sweating horse, and calling out to the statuesque
commander:

"Colonel, a train is stalled in the creek about three miles from here,
and is threatened with capture by Morgan's cavalry. The General presents
his compliments, and directs that you take your regiment on the double-
quick to the assistance of the train. You v'e not a moment lose."

"Tare and 'ounds!" swore the Colonel in the classic he used when
excited, "am I niver to have a dacint inspection? Orderly, bring me me
harse. Stop that band's ijiotic blatting. Get into line there, quick as
love will let you, you unblessed Indiana spalpeans. Without doubling;
right face! Forward, M-a-r-c-h!"

Col. McTarnaghan, still wearing his parade grandeur, was soon at the
head of the column, on that long-striding horse which always set such a
hot pace for the regiment; especially over such a rough, gullied road as
they were now traveling.

Still, the progress was not fast enough to suit the impatient Colonel,
who had an eye to the report he would have to make to the Brigadier
General, who was a Regular.

"Capt. McGillicuddy," commanded he, turning in his saddle, "send forward
a Corporal and five men for an advance guard."

"Corporal Klegg, take five men and go to the front," commanded the
Captain.

"Now you b'yes, get ahead as fast as you can. Get a move on them durty
spalpanes of tamesters. We must get back to camp before this storm
strikes us. Shove out, now, as if the divil or Jahn Morgan was after
yez."

It was awful double-quicking over that rocky, rutty road, but taking
Shorty and four others. Si went on the keen jump to arrive hot and
breathless on the banks of the creek. There he found a large bearded man
wearing an officer's slouched hat sitting on a log, smoking a black
pipe, and gazing calmly on the ruck of wagons piled up behind one
stalled in the creek, which all the mules they could hitch to it had
failed to pull out.

It was the Wagon Master, and his calmness was that of exhaustion. He had
yelled and sworn himself dry, and was collecting another fund of abuse
to spout at men and animals.

"Here, why don't you git a move on them wagons?" said Si hotly, for he
was angered at the man's apparent indifference.

"'Tend to your own business and I'll tend to mine," said the Wagon
Master, sullenly, without removing his pipe or looking at Si.

"Look here, I'm a Corporal, commanding the advance guard," said Si. "I
order you!"

This seemed to open the fountains of the man's soul.

"You order me?" he yelled, "you splay-footed, knock-kneed, chuckled-
headed paper-collared, whitegloved sprat from a milk-sick prairie.
Corporal! I outrank all the Corporals from here to Christmas of next
year."

"The gentleman seems to have something on his mind," grinned Shorty.
"Mebbe his dinner didn't set well."

"Shorty?" inquired Si, "how does a Wagon Master rank? Seems to me nobody
lower'n a Brigadier-General should dare talk to me that way."

"Dunno," answered Shorty, doubtfully. "Seems as if I'd heard some of
them Wagon Masters rank as Kurnels. He swears like one."

"Corporal!" shouted the Wagon Master with infinite scorn. "Measly $2-a-
month water toter for the camp-guard, order me!" and he went off into a
rolling stream of choice "army language."

"He must certainly be a Kurnel," said Shorty.

"Here," continued the Wagon Master, "if you don't want them two shoat-
brands jerked offen you, jump in and get them wagons acrost. That's what
you were sent to do. Hump yourself, if you know what's good for you.
I've done all I can. Now it's your turn."

Dazed and awed by the man's authoritativeness the boys ran down to the
water to see what was the trouble.

They found the usual difficulty in Southern crossings. The stupid
tinkerers with the road had sought to prevent it running down into the
stream by laying a log at the edge of the water. This was an enormous
one two feet in diameter, with a chuckhole before it, formed by the
efforts of the teams to mount the log. The heavily laden ammunition
wagon had its hub below the top of the log, whence no amount of mule-
power could extricate it.

Si, with Indiana commonsense, saw that the only help was to push the
wagon back and lay a pile of poles to make a gradual ascent. He and the
rest laid their carefully polished muskets on dry leaves at the side,
pulled off their white gloves, and sending two men to hunt thru the
wagons for axes to cut the poles. Si and Shorty roused up the stupid
teamsters to unhitch the mules and get them behind the wagon to pull it
back. Alas for their carefully brushed pantaloons and well-blackened
shoes, which did not last a minute in the splashing mud.

The Wagon Master had in the meanwhile laid in a fresh supply of epithets
and had a fresh batch to swear at. He stood up on the bank and yelled
profane injunctions at the soldiers like a Mississippi River Mate at a
boat landing. They would not work fast enough for him, nor do the right
thing.

The storm at last burst. November storms in Tennessee are like the
charge of a pack of wolves upon a herd of buffalo. There are wild,
furious rushes, alternating with calmer intervals. The rain came down
for a few minutes as if it would beat the face off the earth, and the
stream swelled into a muddy torrent. Si's paper collar and cuffs at once
became pulpy paste, and his boiled shirt a clammy rag. In spite of this
his temper rose to the boiling point as he struggled thru the sweeping
rush of muddy water to get the other wagons out of the road and the
ammunition wagon pulled back a little ways to allow the poles to be
piled in front of it.

The dashing downpour did not check the Wagon Master's flow of profanity.
He only yelled the louder to make himself heard above the roar. The rain
stopped for a few minutes as suddenly as it had begun and Col.
McTarnaghan came up with all his parade finery drenched and dripping
like the feathers of a prize rooster in a rainy barnyard. His Irish
temper was at the steaming point, and he was in search of something to
vent it on.

"You blab-mouthed son of a thief," he shouted at the Wagon Master, "what
are you ordering my men around for? They are sent here to order you, not
you to order them. Shut that ugly potato trap of yours and get down to
work, or I'll wear my saber out on you. Get down there and put your own
shoulders to the wheels, you misbegotten villain. Get down there into
the water, I tell you. Corporal, see that he does his juty!"

The Wagon Master slunk down the hill, where Shorty grabbed him by the
collar and yanked him over to help push one of the wagons back. The
other boys had meanwhile found axes, cut down and trimmed up some pine
poles and were piling them into the chuckhole under Si's practical
guidance. A double team was put on the ammunition wagon, and the rest of
Co. Q came up wet, mad and panting. A rope was found and stretched ahead
of the mules, on which the company lined itself, the Colonel took his
place on the bank and gave the word, and with a mighty effort the wagon
was dragged up the hill. Some other heavily loaded ammunition wagons
followed. The whole regiment was now up, and the bigger part of it lined
on the rope so that these wagons came up more easily, even tho the rain
resumed its wicked pounding upon the clay soil.

Wading around thru the whirling water. Si had discovered, to his
discomfiture, that there was a narrow, crooked reef that had to be kept
to. There were deep overturning holes on either side. Into one of these
Si had gone, to come again floundering and spurting muddy water from his
mouth.

Shorty noted the place and took the first opportunity to crowd the Wagon
Master into it.

A wagon loaded with crackers and pork missed the reef and went over
hopelessly on its side, to the rage of Col. McTamaghan.

"Lave it there; lave it there, ye blithering numbskulls," he yelled,
"Unhitch those mules and get 'em out. The pork and wagon we can get when
the water goes down. If another wagon goes over Oi'll rejuce it every
mother's son of yez, and tie yez up by the thumbs besides."

Si and Shorty waded around to unhitch the struggling mules, and then,
taking poles in hand to steady themselves, took their stations in the
stream where they could head the mules right.

Thru the beating storm and the growing darkness, the wagons were, one by
one, laboriously worked over until, as midnight approached, only three
or four remained on the other side. Chilled to the bone, and almost
dropping with fatigue from hours of standing in the deep water running
like a mill race. Si called Al Klapp, Sib Ball and Jesse Langley to take
their poles and act as guides.

Al Klapp had it in for the sutlers. He was a worm that was ready to
turn. He had seen some previous service, and had never gone to the
Paymaster's table but to see the most of his $13 a month swept away by
the sutler's remorseless hand. He and Jesse got the remaining army
wagons over all right. The last wagon was a four-horse team belonging to
a sutler.

The fire of long-watched-for vengeance gleamed in Al's eye as he made
out its character in the dim light. It reached the center of the stream,
when over it went in the rushing current of muddy water.

Al and Jesse busied themselves unhooking the struggling mules.

The Colonel raged. "Lave it there! Lave it there!" he yelled after
exhausting his plentiful stock of Irish expletives. "But we must lave a
guard with it. Capt. Sidney Hyde, your company has been doing less than
any other. Detail a Sergeant and 10 men to stand guard here until
tomorrow, and put them two thick-headed oudmahouns in the creek on guard
with them. Make them stand double tricks.

"All right. It was worth it," said Al Klapp, as the Sergeant put him on
post, with the water running in rivulets from his clothes. "It'll take a
whole lot of skinning for the sutlers to get even for the dose I've
given one of them."

"B'yes, yoi've done just splendid," said the Colonel, coming over to
where Si and Shorty were sitting wringing the water and mud from their
pantaloons and blouses. "You're hayroes, both of yez. Take a wee drap
from my canteen. It'll kape yez from catching cold."

"No, thankee, Kurnel," said Si, blushing with delight, and forgetting
his fatigue and discomfort, in this condescension and praise from his
commanding officer. "I'm a Good Templar."

"Sinsible b'y," said the Colonel approvingly, and handing his canteen to
Shorty.

"I'm mightily afraid of catching cold," said Shorty, reaching eagerly
for the canteen, and modestly turning his back on the Colonel that he
might not see how deep his draft.

"Should think you were," mused the Colonel, hefting the lightened
vessel. "Bugler, sound the assembly and let's get back to camp."

The next day the number of rusty muskets, dilapidated accouterments and
quantity of soiled clothes in the camp of the 200th Ind. was only
equaled by the number of unutterably weary and disgusted boys.



CHAPTER XXII. A NIGHT OF SONG HOME-SICKNESS AND ITS OUTPOURING IN MUSIC.

IT WAS Sunday again, and the 200th Ind. still lingered near Nashville.
For some inscrutible reason known only to the commanding officers the
brigade had been for nearly a week in camp on the banks of the swift
running Cumberland. They had been bright, sunshiny days, the last two of
them. Much rain in the hill country had swollen the swift waters of the
Cumberland and they fiercely clamored their devious way to the broad
Ohio. The gentle roar as the rippling wavelets dashed against the rock
bound shores sounded almost surf-life, but to Si, who had never heard
the salt waves play hide-and-go-seek on the pebbly beach, the
Cumberland's angry flood sang only songs of home on the Wabash. He had
seen the Wabash raging in flood time and had helped to yank many a head
of stock from its engulfing fury. He had seen the Ohio, too, when she
ran bank full with her arched center carrying the Spring floods and
hundreds of acres of good soil down to the continent-dividing
Mississippi, and on out to sea. His strong arms and stout muscles had
piloted many a boat-load of boys and girls through the Wabash eddies and
rapids during the Spring rise, and as he stood now, looking over the
vast width of this dreary waste of waters, a great wave of home-sickness
swept over him.

After all, Si was only a kid of a boy, like thousands of his comrades.'
True, he was past his majority a few months, but his environment from
youth to his enlistment had so sheltered him that he was a boy at heart.

"The like precurse of fierce events and prologue to the omen coming on"
had as yet made small impression upon him. Grim visaged war had not
frightened him much up to that time. He was to get his regenerating
baptism of blood at Murfreesboro a few weeks later. Just now Si Klegg
was simply a boy grown big, a little over fat, fond of mother's cooking,
mother's nice clean feather beds, mother's mothering, if the truth must
be told. He had never in his life before been three nights from under
the roof of the comfortable old house in which he was born. He had now
been wearing the blue uniform of the Union a little more than three
months, and had not felt mother's work-hardened hands smoothing his
rebellious hair or seen her face or heard a prayer like she could make
in all that three months.

"Shucks!" he said fretfully to himself as he looked back at the droning,
half asleep brigade camp, and then off to the north, across the boiling
yellow flood of waters that tumbled past the rocks far below him.

"A feller sure does git tired of doin' nothin'."

Lusty, young, and bred to an active life, Si, while he did not really
crave hustle and bustle, was yet wedded to "keeping things moving." He
had already forgotten the fierce suffering of his early marching\x97it
seemed three years to him instead of three months back; he had forgotten
the graybacks, the wet nights, the foraging expeditions, the extra guard
duty and all that. There had been two days of soft Autumn sunshine in a
camp that was almost ideal. Everything was cleaned up, mended up, and
the men had washed and barbered themselves into almost dude-like
neatness. Their heaviest duties had been lazy camp guard duty, which
Shorty, growing indolent, had declared to be "dumned foolishness," and
the only excitement offered came from returning foraging parties. There
was no lurking enemy to fear, for the country had been cleared of
guerrillas, and in very truth the ease and quietness of the days of
inactivity was almost demoralizing the men.

There had been no Sunday services. The 200th Ind. was sprawled out on
the ground in its several hundred attitudes of ease, and those with whom
they were brigaded were just as carelessly disposed.

As Si sauntered aimlessly back to look for Shorty, the early twilight
began to close in as the sun slid down behind the distant hills.
Campfires began to glow as belated foragers prepared their suppers, and
the gentle hum of voices came pleasantly to the ear, punctuated by
laughter, often boisterous, but quite as often just the babbling, cheery
laugh of carefree boys.

Si felt\x97well, Si was just plain homesick for mother and the girls, and
one particular girl, whose front name was Annabel, and he almost felt as
though he didn't care who knew it.

The air was redolent with the odor of frying meat. Mingled with this
were vagrant whiffs of cooking potatoes, onions, chickens, and the
fragrance of coffee steaming to blackest strength, all telling tales of
skillful and successful foraging, and it all reminded Si of home and the
odors in his mother's kitchen.

Si couldn't find Shorty, so he hunched down, silent and alone, beside
his tent, a prey to the blue devils. It would soon be Christmas at home.
He could see the great apple bins in the cellar; the pumpkins in the hay
in the barn; the turkeys roosting above the woodshed; the yards of
encased sausages in the attic; he could even smell the mince meat
seasoning in the great stone jar; the honey in the bee cellar; the huge
fruit cake in the milk pan in the pantry; since he could remember he
seen and smelled all these, with 57 varieties of preserves, "jells,"
marmalades, and fruit-butters thrown in for good measure at Christmas
time. He had even contemplated with equanimity all these 21 Christmases,
the dose of "blue pills" that inevitably followed over-feeding at Mother
Klegg's, and now on his 22d Christmas he might be providing a target for
a rebel bullet.

Suddenly Si noticed that the dark had come; the fragrance of tobacco
from hundreds of pipes was filling the air, and from away off in the
distance the almost Indian Summer zephyrs were bringing soft rythmic
sounds like\x97surely\x97yes, he caught it now, it was that mighty soother of
tired hearts\x97

"Jesus, lover of my soul, Let me to Thy bosom fly. While the billows
near me roll. While the tempest still is high."

Si shut his eyes lest the tear drops welling suddenly up fall on his
uniform, not stopping to think that in the gloom they could not be seen.

Miles away the singers seemed to be when Si caught the first sounds, but
as the long, swinging notes reached out in the darkness, squad after
squad, company after company, regiment after regiment took up the grand
old hymn until Si himself lifted up his not untuneful voice and with the
thousands of others was pleading\x97

"Hide me, oh, my Savior hide, 'Till the storm of life is past; Safe into
the haven guide. Oh, receive my soul at last."

and the song rose and swelled out and up toward heaven, and stole away
off to the horizon till the whole vast universe seemed filled with the
sacred melody. As the last words and their music faded out in space.
Shorty lunged down beside Si.

"Say, Pard," he began banteringly, "you've missed yer callin'. Op'ry
oughter have been yer trade."

"Oh, chop off yer chin music for a minute. Shorty," broke in Si. "In the
dark here it seemed most as though I was at home in the little old
church with Maria and Annabel and Pap and Mother, and us all singing
together, and you've busted it\x97ah! listen!"

From not far away a bugler had tuned up and through the fragrant night
came piercingly sweet\x97

"I will sing you a song of that beautiful land\x97"

Then near at hand a strong, clear, musical tenor voice took up the
second line,

"The far away home of the soul,"

and almost instantly a deep, resonant bass voice boomed in\x97

"Where no storms ever beat on that glittering strand While the years of
eternity roll,"

and soon a hundred voices were making melody of the spheres as they sang
Philip Phillips's beautiful song.

"That was Wilse Hornbeck singin' tenor," said Si, as the song ended.

"And it was Hen Withers doin' the bass stunt," returned Shorty.

"You just oughter hear him do the ornamental on a mule whacker. Why, Si,
he's an artist at cussing. Hen Withers is. Sodom and Gomorrah would git
jealous of him if he planted himself near 'em, he's that wicked."

"Well, he can sing all right," grunted Si.

Just then Hen Withers, in the squad some 50 feet away broke into song
again\x97

"Oh, say, can you see by the dawn's early light"

It welled up from his throat like the pipe from a church organ, and as
mellow as the strains from a French horn. When the refrain rolled out
fully 3,000 men were singing, yelling and shouting in frenzied fervor\x97

"And the Star Spangled banner. In triumph shall wave, O'er the land of
the free, And the home of the brave."

While Hen Withers rested on his well-earned laurels, a strong, clear
voice, whose owner was probably thinking of home and the shady gloom of
the walk through the grove to singing school with his sweetheart,
trilled an apostrophe to the queen of light.

"Roll on, silvery moon, Guide the traveler on his way,"

but he had it pretty much to himself, for not many knew the words, and
he trailed off into

"I loved a little beauty, Bell Brandon,"

then his music died out in the night.

It was now the "tenore robusto" who chimed in bells, on a new battle
song that held a mile square of camp spellbound:

"Oh, wrap the flag around me, boys,

To die were far more sweet With freedom's starry emblem, boys.

To be my winding sheet. In life I loved to see it wave

And follow where it led, And now my eyes grow dim, my hands

Would clasp its last bright shred. Oh, I had thought to meet you, boys,

On many a well-worn field When to our starry emblem, boys,

The trait'rous foe should yield. But now, alas, I am denied

My dearest earthly prayer, You'll follow and you'll meet the foe,

But I shall not be there."

Wilse Hornback knew by the hush of the camp as the sound of his
wonderful voice died on the far horizon that he had his laurels, too,
and so he sang on while the mile square of camp went music-mad again as
it sang with him\x97

"We are springing to the call of our brothers gone before, Shouting the
battle cry of freedom. And we'll fill the vacant ranks with a million
freemen more. Shouting the battle cry of freedom."

Chorus:

"The Union forever! Hurrah, boys. Hurrah; Down with the traitor and up
with the Star, While we rally 'round the Flag, boys, We'll rally once
again, Shouting the battle cry of freedom.

We will welcome to our numbers the loyal, true and brave. Shouting the
battle cry of freedom, And although they may be poor, not a man shall be
a slave. Shouting the battle cry of freedom.

So we're springing to the call from the East and from the West, Shouting
the battle cry of freedom, And we'll hurl the rebel crew from the land
we love the best, Shouting the battle cry of freedom."

In the almighty hush that followed the billows of sound, some sweet-
voiced fellow started Annie Laurie, and then sang\x97

"In the prison cell I sit"

with grand chorus accompaniment. Then Wilse Hornback started and Hen
Withers joined in singing the Battle Hymn\x97

"Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord,"

and oh, God of Battles! how that army of voices took up the refrain\x97

"Glory, glory, hallelujah,"

and tossed and flung it back and forth from hill to hill and shore to
shore till it seemed as though Lee and his cohorts must have heard and
quailed before the fearful prophecy and arraignment.

Then the "tenore robusto" and the "basso profundo" opened a regular
concert program, more or less sprinkled with magnificent chorus:
singing, as it was easy or difficult for the men to recall the words.
You must rummage in the closets of memory for most of them! The Old
Oaken Bucket; Nellie Gray; Anna Lisle; No, Ne'er Can Thy Home be Mine;
Tramp, Tramp, Tramp; We are Coming, Father Abraham; Just as I Am; By
Cold Siloam's Shady Rill\x97how those home-loving Sunday school young boys
did sing that! It seemed incongruous, but every now and then they
dropped into these old hymn tunes, which many a mother had sung her baby
to sleep with in those elder and better days.

The war songs are all frazzled and torn fragments of memory now, covered
with dust and oblivion, but they were great songs in and for their day.
No other country ever had so many.

Laughter and badinage had long since ceased. Flat on their backs, gazing
up at the stars through the pine and hemlock boughs, the boys lay
quietly smoking while the "tenore robusto" assisted by the "basso
profundo" and hundreds of others sang "Willie, We Have Missed You,"
"Just Before the Battle, Mother," "Brave Boys Are They," and the "Vacant
Chair."

In a little break in the singing. Hen Withers sang a wonderful song, now
almost forgotten. It was new to the boys then, but the bugler had heard
it, and as Hen's magnificent voice rolled forth its fervid words the
bugle caught up the high note theme, and never did the stars sing
together more entrancingly than did the "wicked mule whacker" and that
bugle\x97

"Lift up your eyes, desponding freemen. Fling to the winds your needless
fears. He who unfurled our beauteous banner Says it shall wave a
thousand years."

On the glorious chorus a thousand voices took up the refrain in droning
fashion that made one think of "The Sound of the Great Amen."

"A thousand years, my own Columbia! Tis the glad day so long foretold!
'Tis the glad mom whose early twilight Washington saw in times of old."

By the time Hen had sung all of the seven verses the whole brigade knew
the refrain and roared it forth as a defiance to the Southern
Confederacy, which took on physical vigor in the days that came after,
when the 200th Ind. went into battle to come off victorious on many a
fiercely contested field.

Then the tenor sang that doleful, woe begone, hope effacing, heart-
string-cracking "Lorena." Some writer has said that it sung the heart
right out of the Southern Confederacy.

"The sun's low down the sky, Lorena, The snow is on the grass again."

As Wilse Hornbeck let his splendid voice out on the mournful cadences,
Si felt his very heart strings snap, and even Shorty drew his breath
hard, while some of the men simply rolled over, and burying their faces
in their arms, sobbed audibly.

Wilse had not counted on losing his own nerve, but found his voice
breaking on the melancholy last lines, and bounding to his feet with a
petulant,

"Oh, hang it!"

"Say, darkies, hab you seen de Massa"

came dancing up from the jubilating chords of that wonderful human music
box, and soon the camp was reeling giddily with the jolly, rollicking,

"Or Massa ran, ha! ha!! The darkies stay, ho! ho!!"

Then, far in the distance a bugle sounded "lights out," and the songfest
was at an end; as bugler after bugler took it up, one by one the
campfires bAlinked out, and squad after squad sank into quiet.

"I feel a heap better somehow," remarked Si, as he crawled under his
blanket.

"Dogged if I hain't had a sort of uplift, too," muttered Shorty, as he
wrapped his blanket round his head. In the distance a tenor voice was
singing as he kicked out his fire and got ready for bed\x97

"Glory, glory, hallelujah."



SI KLEGG THRU THE STONE RIVER CAMPAIGN AND IN WINTER QUARTERS AT
MURFREESBORO.



By John McElroy



Book Two


Published By The National Tribune Co., Washington, D. C. Second Edition
Copyright 1910



THE SIX VOLUMES SI KLEGG, Book I, Transformation From a Raw Recruit SI
KLEGG, Book II, Through the Stone River Campaign SI KLEGG, Book III,
Meets Mr. Rosenbaum, the Spy SI KLEGG, Book IV, On The Great Tullahoma
Campaign SI KLEGG, Book V, Deacon's Adventures At Chattanooga SI KLEGG,
Book VI, Enter On The Atlanta Campaign



Si Sat Down Hard 20 frontispiecee (114K)



titlepage (70K)


CONTENTS


PREFACE

SI KLEGG


CHAPTER I. THROUGH MUD AND MIRE

CHAPTER II. SECOND DAY'S MARCH

CHAPTER III. STILL ON THE MARCH

CHAPTER IV. THE SUNSHINE OF LIFE

CHAPTER V. LINING UP FOR BATTLE

CHAPTER VI. BATTLE OF STONE RIVER

CHAPTER VII. AFTER THE FIRST DAY

CHAPTER VIII. A GLOOMY NEW YEAR'S DAY

CHAPTER IX. VICTORY AT LAST

CHAPTER X. THE VICTORIOUS ARMY

CHAPTER XI. WINTER QUARTERS

CHAPTER XII. ADDING TO THEIR COMFORT

CHAPTER XIII. "HOOSIER'S REST"

CHAPTER XIV. DEACON KLEGG'S SURPRISE

CHAPTER XV. DEACON KLEGG'S ARRIVAL IS MISTAKEN

CHAPTER XVI. IN A NEW WORLD

CHAPTER XVII. THE DEACON'S INITIATION

CHAPTER XVIII.   THE DEACON IS SHOCKED

CHAPTER XIX. THE DEACON IS TROUBLED

CHAPTER XX. THE DEACON BUTTS IN

CHAPTER XXI. THE PERPLEXED DEACON

CHAPTER XXII. TRYING TO EDUCATE ABRAHAM LINCOLN



ILLUSTRATIONS


The Aid Spatters Mud on si 18

Si Sat Down Hard 20

Stop Beatin' Them Mules' 22

Frozen in the Mud 29

What Do You See, Shorty?' 33

Si Reports to the Colonel 38

Preparing Supper 40

After the Mules Stampeded 44

The Adjutant Smiled on si and Shorty 49

The Prisoners 50

A Close Shave 62

Groundhog Fled 64

Earning Thirteen Dollars a Month 57

A Frightened Teamster 70

A Lucky Fall 81

Finding a Good Thing 85

Si's Challenge 90

A Disagreeable Awakening for Shorty and Si. 94

Si Klegg Fell Without a Groan 113

Shorty Thinks si Does Not Look Like a Ghost. 118

Shorty Retaliates. 126

The House Beautiful. 133

Solid Comfort. 135

"Am I a Soldier of the Cross?" 139

Shorty Confiscates the Caboose Door. 143

Si Defended the Plunder. 148

Si Floors the Wagonmaster. 154

A Stoutly-built, Farmer-looking Man Entered the Train 164

The Free Fight. 169

Mr. Klegg Ready for Action. 172

Deacon Klegg and the Knight of The Golden Circle.

The General Interrupts the Game 184

Meeting Between si and his Father. 189

His Honor and the 'attorney' Bucked And Gagged.

Shorty Admonishes the Orderly 198

The Deacon is Shocked. 210

Trying to Conquer the Deacon's Scruples. 212

'How Much'd You Give for This?' 216

Deacon Klegg Looks over the Larder. 220

Hit My Jug a Welt With his Sword 231

'Pulled out a Fat Roll of Greenbacks. 235

I'm Gwine Ter Kill Ye, Right Here 246

Do You Hear? Git on Your Mule at Onct.'

"I'll Invite Your Attention to the Emancipation Proclamation 264 "

The Deacon Gives Abe a Lesson in Wood Chopping 269



PREFACE

"Si Klegg, of the 200th Ind., and Shorty, his Partner," were born years
ago in the brain of John McElroy, Editor of THE NATIONAL TRIBUNE.

These sketches are the original ones published in THE NATIONAL TRIBUNE,
revised and enlarged some what by the author. How true they are to
nature every veteran can abundantly testify from his own service.
Really, only the name of the regiment was invented. There is no doubt
that there were several men of the name of Josiah Klegg in the Union
Army, and who did valiant service for the Government. They had
experiences akin to, if not identical with, those narrated here, and
substantially every man who faithfully and bravely carried a musket in
defense of the best Government on earth had some times, if not often,
experiences of which those of Si Klegg are a strong reminder.

THE PUBLISHERS. THIS BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO THE RANK AND FILE
OF THE GRANDEST ARMY EVER MUSTERED FOR WAR.



SI KLEOG



CHAPTER I. THROUGH MUD AND MIRE DUTY'S PATH LEADS THE 200TH IND.
SOUTHWARD FROM NASHVILLE.

"SHORTY" said Si Klegg, the morning after Christmas, 1862, as the 200th
Ind. sullenly plunged along through the mud and rain, over the roads
leading southward from Nashville, "they say that this is to be a sure-
enough battle and end the war."

"Your granny's night-cap they do," answered Shorty crossly, as he turned
his cap around back ward to stop the icy current from chasing down his
backbone. "How many thousand times 's that bin stuffed into your ears?
This is the forty-thousandth mile we've marched to find that battle that
was goin' to end the war. And I'll bet we'll march 40,000 more. This war
ain't goin' to end till we've scuffed the top off all the roads in
Kentucky and Tennessee, and wore out God's patience and all the sole-
leather in the North. I believe it's the shoe-makers that's runnin' this
war in the interest o' their business."

The cold, soaking rain had reduced the most of the 200th Ind. to a mood
when they would have 16disputed the Ten Commandments and quarreled with
their mothers.

"There's no use bein' crosser'n a saw-buck, if you are wet, Shorty,"
said Si, walking to the side of the road and scraping off his generous-
sized brogans several pounds of stiff, red mud. "They say this new
General with a Dutch name is a fighter from Wayback, an' he always licks
the rebels right out of their boots. I'm sure, I hope it's so. I like
huntin' ez well ez anybody, an' I'll walk ez fur ez the next man to find
something to shoot. But I think walkin' over two States, backward and
forward, is altogether too much huntin' for so little shootin'. Don't
you?"

"Don't worry," snapped Shorty. "You'll git all the shootin' you want
before your three years are up. It'll keep."

"But why keep it so long?" persisted Si. "If it can be done up in three
months, an' we kin git back home, why dribble it out over three years?
That ain't the way we do work back home on the Wabash."

"Confound back home on the Wabash," roared Shorty. "I don't hear nothin'
else, day and night, but 'back home on the Wabash.' I've bin on the
Wabash, an' I don't want to never see the measly, muddy, agery ditch
agin'. Why, they have the ager so bad out there that it shakes the
buttons off a man's clothes, the teeth out of his head, the horns off
the cows. An' as for milk-sickness."

"Shorty!" thundered Si, "stop right there. If you wasn't my pardner I'd
fight you this minute. I kin join in jawin' about the officers an' the
17Government. A great deal of your slack that I can't agree with I kin
put up with, but you mustn't say nothin' against my home in the Wabash
Valley. That I won't stand from no man. For fear that I may lose my
temper I'm goin' away from you till you're in better humor."

With that Si strode on ahead, feeling as cross and uncomfortable
internally as he was ill-at-ease externally. He hated above all things
to quarrel with Shorty, but the Wabash Valley, that gardenspot of earth,
that place where lived his parents, and sister, and Annabel but the
subject was too sore to think about.

Presently an Aid came galloping along the middle of the road, calling
upon the men to make way for him. His horse's hoofs threw the mud in
every direction, and Si caught a heavy spatter directly in his face.

"Confound them snips of Aids," said he angrily, as he wiped the mud off.
"Put on more airs than if they was old Gen. Scott himself. Always
pretend to be in such a powerful hurry. Everybody must hustle out of
their way. I think that fool jest did that on purpose."

The rain kept pouring down with tormenting persistence. Wherever Si
looked were drenched, de pressed-looking men; melancholy, steaming
horses; sodden, gloomy fields; yellow, rushing streams, and boundless
mud that thousands of passing feet were churning into the consistency of
building-mortar.

Si had seen many rainy days since he had been in the army, but this was
the first real Winter rain 18he had been out in.

Jabe Belcher, the most disagreeable man in Co. Q, was just ahead of him.
He stepped into a mudpuddle, slipped, threw the mud and water over Si,
and his gun, which he flung in the effort to save himself, struck Si on
the shoulder.

The Aid Spatters Mud on si 18

"Clumsy lunkhead!" roared Si, as ill-tempered now as anybody. "Couldn't
you see that puddle and keep out of it? You'd walk right into the
Cumberland River if it was in front of you. Never saw such a bat-eyed
looney in my life."

"If the Captain wasn't lookin'," retorted Belcher, "I'd shut up both of
them dead-mackerel eyes o' your'n, you backwoods yearlin'. I'll settle
with you after we git into camp. Your stripes won't save you."

"Never mind about my stripes, old Stringhalt. I kin take them off long
enough to wallop you."

Si was in such a frame of mind that his usual open-eyedness was gone.
The company was wading across a creek, and Si plunged in without a
thought. He stepped on a smooth stone, his feet went from under him and
he sat 'down hard and waist-deep in much the coldest water that he ever
remembered.

"O, Greenland's icy mountains," was all that he could think to say.

The other boys yelled:

"Come on to camp, Si. That's no place to sit down."

"Feet hurt, Si, and goin' to rest a little?"

"This your day for taking a bath, Si?"

"Thinks this is a political meetin', and he's to take the chair."

"Place Rest!"

"When I sit down, I prefer a log or a rail; but some men's different."

"See a big bass there, Si, an' try to ketch him by settin' down on him?"

"Git up, Si; git up, an' give your seat to some lady."

Si Sat Down Hard 20

Si was too angry to notice their jibes. He felt around in the icy water
for his gun, and clambered out on the bank. He first poured the water
out of his gun-barrel and wiped the mud off. His next thought was the
three days' rations he had drawn 20 that morning. He opened his
haversack, and poured out the water it had caught. With it went his
sugar, coffee and salt. His hardtack was a pasty mess; his meat covered
with sand and dirt. He turned the haversack inside out, and swashed it
out in the stream.

Back came Capt. McGillicuddy, with water streaming from the down-turned
rim of his hat, and his humor bad. He was ignorant of Si's mishap.

"Corporal Klegg, what are you doing back here? Why aren't you in your
place? I've been looking all around for you. The company wagon's stalled
back somewhere. That spavin-brained teamster's at his old tricks. I want
you to take five men off the rear of the company, go back and find that
wagon, and bring it up. Be smart about it."

"Captain," remonstrated Si, "I'm wetter'n a drowned rat!"

"Well, who in thunder ain't?" exploded the Captain. "Do I look as dry as
a basket of chips? Am I walking around in a Panama and linen clothes?
Did you expect to keep from getting your feet wet when you came into the
army? I want none of your belly-aching or sore-toeing. You take five men
and bring up that wagon in a hurry. Do you hear me?"

And the Captain splashed off through the red mud to make somebody else
still more miserable.

Si picked up his wet gun from the rain-soaked sod, put it under his
streaming overcoat, ordered the five drenched, dripping, dejected boys
near him to follow, and plunged back into the creek, which had by this
time risen above his knees. He was past the stage of anger now. He
simply wished that he was dead and out of the whole business. A nice,
dry grave on a sunny hillock in Posey County, with a good roof over it
to keep out the rain, would be a welcome retreat.

In gloomy silence he and his squad plodded back through the eternal mud
and the steady downpour, through the miry fields, through the swirling
yellow floods in the brooks and branches, in search of the laggard
company wagon.22

Two or three miles back they came upon it, stuck fast in a deep mud-
hole. The enraged teamster was pounding the mules over the head with the
butt of his blacksnake whip, not in the expectation of getting any
further effort out of them he knew better than that but as a relief to
his overcharged heart.

"Stop beatin' them mules over the head," shouted Si, as they came up.
Not that he cared a fig about the mules, but that he wanted to "jump"
somebody.

Stop Beatin' Them Mules' 22

"Go to brimstone blazes, you freckle-faced Posey County refugee,"
responded Groundhog, the teamster, in the same fraternal spirit. "I'm
drivin' this here team." He gave the nigh-swing mule a "welt" that would
have knocked down anything else than a swing mule.

"If you don't stop beatin' them mules, by thunder, I'll make you."

"Make's a good word," responded Groundhog, giving the off-swing mule a
wicked "biff." "I never see anything come out of Posey County that could
make me do what I didn't want to."

Si struck at him awkwardly. He was so hampered by his weight of soggy
clothes that there was little force or direction to his blow. The soaked
teamster returned the blow with equal clumsiness.

The other boys came up and pulled them apart.

"We ain't no time for sich blamed nonsense," they growled. "We've got to
git this here wagon up to the company, an' we'll have the devil's own
time doin' it. Quit skylarkin' an' git to work."

They looked around for something with which to make pries. Every rail
and stick within a quarter of a mile of the road was gone. They had been
used up the previous Summer, when both armies had passed over the road.

There was nothing to do but plod off through mud and rain to the top of
a hill in the distance, where there was a fence still standing. A half
an hour later each of the six came back with a heavy rail on his
shoulder. They pried the wagon out and got it started, only to sink
again in another quagmire a few hundred yards further on.

Si and the boys went back to get their rails, but found that they had
been carried off by another squad that had a wagon in trouble. There was
nothing to do but to make another toilsome journey to the fence for more
rails.

After helping the wagon out they concluded it24 would be wiser to carry
their rails with them a little way to see if they would be needed again.

They were many times that afternoon. As dark ness came on Si, who had
the crowning virtue of hopefulness when he fully recognized the
unutterable badness of things, tried to cheer the other boys up with
assertions that they would soon get into camp, where they would find
bright, warm fires with which to dry their clothes, and plenty of hot
coffee to thaw them out inside.

The quick-coming darkness added enormously to the misery of their work.
For hours they struggled along the bottomless road, in the midst of a
ruck of played-out mules and unutterably tired, disgusted men, laboring
as they were to get wagons ahead.

Finally they came up to their brigade, which had turned off the road and
gone into line-of-battle in an old cotton-field, where the mud was
deeper, if possible, than in the road.

"Where's the 200th Ind.?" called out Si.

"Here, Si," Shorty's voice answered.

"Where's the fires, Shorty," asked Si, with sinking heart.

"Ain't allowed none," answered his partner gloomily. "There's a rebel
battery on that hill there, and they shoot every time a match is
lighted. What've you got there, a rail? By George, that's lucky! We'll
have something to keep us out of the mud."

They laid down the rail and sat upon it.

"Shorty," said Si, as he tried to arrange his aching bones to some
comfort on the rail, "I got mad at you for cussin' the Wabash this
morning. I ain't a fluid talker such as you are, an' I can't find words
to say25 what I think. But I jest wisht you would begin right here and
cuss everybody from Abe Lincoln down to Corporal Si Klegg, and
everything from the Wabash in Injianny down to the Cumberland in
Tennessee. I'd like to listen to you."



CHAPTER II. SECOND DAY'S MARCH THE LONG COLUMN CRAWLS THROUGH RAIN AND
COLD TO MURFREESBORO.

SI KLEGG was generous with his rail, as he was with all things among his
comrades. He selected the softest part, in the center, for him self and
Shorty, and then invited the other boys to share its hospitalities. They
crowded up close to him and Shorty on either side, and there seemed to
come a little warmth and dryness from the close contact of their bodies.

Si was so mortally tired that it seemed a great relief just to sit still
and rest, though the rain continued to pour down.

Shorty fished some hardtack and fried pork out of his haversack, and
also gave him a handful of ground coffee. Si munched the crackers and
meat, with an occasional nip at the coffee. His spirits began to rise
just a trifle. He was too healthy in body and mind to be totally
downcast for long.

"'Tis n't much of a supper," he said to himself, "but it beats nothin'
at all miles and miles. Besides, I was mighty lucky in gettin' the
biggest rail. Some that the other boys has are no good at all. They'll
let 'em right down in the mud. And most o' the boys has no rails at all.
I'm awfully sorry for 'em."

Then he began to wonder if they were not 27overcautious about the
nearness of the enemy. He had been in the army just long enough to have
contempt for the stories that were always current with a certain class
about the proximity and strength of the enemy. Shorty was not of that
kind; but, then, Shorty was as liable to be imposed upon as anybody.

"How do you know there's a rebel battery on the hill out there?" he
finally asked Shorty.

"They belted into the Oshkosh Terrors, out there to our right, killed a
mule, scared two teamsters to death, and knocked over three or four
kittles of coffee. It was awful unlucky about the coffee," an swered
Shorty.

"How long ago was that?"

"O, several hours ago. Just after we turned into the field, and long
before you come up."

"Mebbe they've gone off now. Mebbe, if they're there yet, their
ammynition's so soaked that they can't shoot. What do you say to
startin' a little fire? It'd be an immense comfort. Unless we can dry
out a little we'll be soaked into such mush before morning that we can't
keep our shape, and they'll have to ladle us up with dippers."

"It's strictly against orders."

"You mean it was against orders several hours ago. I can't see nothin'
on that hill over there. I've been watchin' for half an hour. There's
nothin' movin'. Mebbe the orders has been changed, an' you haint heard
about it," persisted Si. "Mebbe the Orderly that was bringing 'em 's
stuck in the mud. Mebbe the rain's soaked 'em so's they can't be read.
If anybody's got any dry matches I'm goin' to chance28 it."

Word was passed along the rail, and at length one of the boys was found
to have some matches in a tin box which was proof against the rain.

Si got out his knife and whittled down a corner of the rail until he
came to the dry part, and got off some shavings. Splinters were
contributed by the others, and after several failures a small flame was
started.

"Here, what in the world are you men doing there?" came in the
stentorian tones of the Colonel, who it startled Si to discover was
sitting a short distance behind him. "Put that light out this instant."

Even before the command could be obeyed, four great flashes burned out
like lightning in the murky darkness on the hill-top. Four cannon
roared, and four shells screeched toward Si and his companions, who
instinctively toppled over backward into the mud. One of the shells
struck in the mud a few yards in front, burst with a deafening report,
and sent over them a deluge of very wet Tennessee real estate.

"The battery's out there yit, Si," said Shorty, as they gathered
themselves up and carefully stamped out every spark of fire.

"It's 'tendin' strictly to business," remarked Wes Williams.

"Its ammynition don't seem to be a mite wet," added Jim Hutchinson.

"There, you see, now," said the Colonel sternly. "I'll tie up by the
thumbs the next man that dares scratch a match."

"You jest kin if I do," muttered Si, scraping off some of the
superabundant mud, and resuming his29 seat on the rail. "This dog's
cured of suckin' eggs." He set the butt of his gun down in front of him,
clasped his hands around the barrel, leaned his head on them, and went
to sleep.

He was so tired that he could have slept anywhere and in any position.
He was dimly conscious during the night that the rain ceased and that it
turned bitter cold. He was not going to wake up for trifles like that,
though. When Si went to sleep he devoted himself entirely to that and
nothing else. It 30 was one thing that he never allowed any interference
with.

But with the first gray streaks of dawn in the east some uneasy,
meddlesome spirit in the 200th Ind. happened to be awake, and he
awakened the Adjutant, who cuffed and shook the headquarters drummer
until he awakened and beat the reveille. This aroused the weary Orderly-
Sergeants, who started upon the task of getting up the bone-wracked,
aching-muscled men. In 10 minutes there was enough discontent and bitter
grumbling in the 200th Ind. to have furnished forth a new political
party.

The awakening process finally reached those of Co. Q who had roosted on
Si's rail all night.

Si vigorously insisted on being let alone; that he hadn't been asleep
five minutes, and that, anyhow, it was not his turn to go on guard. But
the Orderly-Sergeant of Co. Q was a persistent fellow, and would not be
denied.

When Si finally tried to rise he found that, in addition to the protests
of his stiff legs, he was pinned firmly down. Feeling around to
ascertain the cause, he discovered that the tail of his overcoat and his
shoes had become deeply imbedded in the mud, and frozen solidly there.
Shorty was in the same fix.

Frozen in the Mud 29

"Got to shuck yourself out o' your overcoat, and leave them gunboats
anchored where they are," remarked Shorty, doing as he said, and falling
in for roll-call in his stocking feet.

After roll-call Si got a hatchet from one of the boys and chopped his
and Shorty's shoes out. The overcoats were left for subsequent effort,
for the first thing was to get some wood and water and cook breakfast.31

The morning was bitter cold and the sky overcast, but Si felt that this
was a thousand times better than the cheerless rain, which seemed to
soak his very life out of him.

He pounded most of the frozen mud off his shoes, picked up the camp-
kettle, and started off for wood and water, broke the ice on the creek,
took a good wash, and presently came back with a load of dry pine and a
kettle full of water.

"My joints feel like I think an old wagon does after it's gone about a
year without greasing," he remarked to Shorty, who had a good fire
going; "but I think that after I get about a quart o' hot coffee, inside
of me, with a few pounds o' pork and crackers, I'll be nearly as good as
new again. My, how good that grub does smell! An' did you ever see such
a nice fire?"

He chopped his and Shorty's overcoats out while Shorty was cooking
breakfast, and when at last he sat down on one end of his rail and ate
enough toasted hard bread and crisp fried side-meat to feed a small
family for a week, washing it down with something near a quart of black
coffee sweetened with coarse brown sugar, life began again to have some
charms for him.

"You're sure that dumbed battery's gone that shot at us last night, are
you, Shorty?" he said, as he drained his cup, fastened it again to the
strap of his haversack, and studied the top of the hill with a critical
eye.

"They say it is," said Shorty, between bites. "While you was down at the
crick a man come over from the camp o' the Oshkosh Terrors, and said two
o' their32 companies 'd been onto the hill, and the rebels had gone."

"I wish them Oshkosh fellers'd mind their own business," said Si,
irritably, as he picked up his gun and began rubbing the mud and rust
off. "They're entirely too fresh for a new regiment. That battery was
none of theirs. It was ours, right in our front, an' if they'd let it
alone till after breakfast we'd gone up and taken it. It was just the
right size for the 200th Ind., and we wanted a chance at it. But now
they've had to stick in and run it off."

"Don't worry," said Shorty, fishing out another cracker; "it hasn't gone
too far. 'Taint lost. You'll have a chance at it some other time. Mebbe
to-day yet."

The army began to move out very promptly, and soon the 200th Ind. was
called to take its place in the long column that crawled over the hills
and across the valleys toward Murfreesboro, like some gigantic blue
serpent moving toward his prey.

Miles ahead of the 200th Ind.'s place in the column the rebels were
offering annoying disputation of farther progress. Lines as brown as the
dried leaves on the oak trees would form on the hilltops, batteries
would gallop into position, and there would be sharp bangs by the cannon
and a sputter of musketry-fire.

Then the long, blue serpent would wriggle out of the road into the
fields, as if coiling to strike. Union batteries would rush on to
hilltops and fire across valleys at the rebel cannon, and a sputter of
musketry would answer that from the leaf-brown ranks on the hilltops,
which would dissolve and march back33 to the next hilltop, where the
thing would be gone over again. The 200th Ind. would occasionally see
one of these performances as it marched over and down one of the hills.

As the afternoon was wearing away the 200th34 Ind. kept nearing the
front, where this was going on. Finally, when the dull day was shading
into dusk, and the brigade ahead of it was forming in the field at the
foot of a hill to open a bickering fire against the dun line at the top,
the 200th Ind. was taken off the road and marched away over to the left,
where it was put into line in front of a dense grove of cedars.

"Capt. McGillicuddy," commanded the Colonel to the Captain of Co. Q,
"advance your company as skirmishers to the edge of the cedars, and send
a Corporal and five men into the thicket to see if there is anything
there."

"Corporal Klegg," said the Captain, "take five men off the left of the
company and go in and see what's in there."

Si was instantly fired with the importance of the duty assigned him. He
sent two of his men to the left, two to the right, while he and Shorty,
a little distance apart, struck for the heart of the thicket. They made
their way with difficulty through the dense chaparral for some minute's,
and then stopped, as they heard voices and the crashing of branches in
front.

Si's heart thumped against his ribs. He looked over to his left, and saw
Shorty standing there peering earnestly into the brush, with his gun
cocked and ready to fire. He ran over to him and whispered:

"What do you see, Shorty?"

What Do You See, Shorty?' 33

"Nothin' yit, but I expect to every minute," replied Shorty, without
turning his intent eyes. Si's gun was already cocked, and he bent his
head 35forward eagerly, to get a better view. But he could see nothing,
except that the tops of the bushes were shaking.

"Shall we skip back an' report?" asked Si.

"I ain't goin' till I see something," said Shorty, stoutly.

"Nor me," echoed Si, rather ashamed that he had suggested it.

"Steady, there; steady, on the right! Come for ward with that left
company," called out a stern voice in front.

"Must be a full regiment in there," whispered Si, craning his neck still
farther. The tramping and crashing increased.

"Steady, men, I tell you! Steady! Press on the center," commanded the
unseen Colonel. "Forward! Forward!"

In spite of his perturbation, Si noticed that the sounds did not seem to
be coming any nearer.

"We must get a squint at 'em," he said, desperately, to Shorty. "Let's
git down an' crawl forward. There must be an openin' somewhere."

They got down on their hands and knees, so as to avoid as many as
possible of the thickly-interlaced branches. Soon they came to a rift
which led to an opening of some rods in circumference. Raising their
heads cautiously above a moss-covered log, they saw in the opening a
stalwart Sergeant with five or six men. The Sergeant was standing there
with his eyes fixed on the tops of the trees, apparently thinking of the
next series of commands he was to give, while the men were busy breaking
limbs off the cedars.

Si and Shorty immediately grasped the situation.36

"Forward, Co. Q!" yelled Si at the top of his lungs. "Surrender, you
consarned rebels, or we'll blow your heads off," he added, as he and
Shorty jumped forward into the opening and leveled their guns on the
squad.

"What'n thunder was you fellers makin' all that racket fur," Si asked
the Sergeant as he was marching him back to the skirmish-line.

"Ouah Cunnel," explained the Sergeant, "wuz afeared you'ns 'd try to
flank us through the thicket, and sent me down to make a rumpus and hold
you back while he fit you in front. But whar's your company?"

"We'll come to it soon," said Si.



CHAPTER III. STILL ON THE MARCH SI AND SHORTY STOP ON THE WAY LONG
ENOUGH TO BAG SIX REBS.

SI CALLED out to the other boys by name to come up and join him.

The rebel Sergeant mentally tallied off each name as it was called. A
flush of shame and anger mounted to his face as Si concluded.

"Gol darn hit," he said, "you'uns hain't got ez many ez we'uns; they
hain't nigh ez good men ez we'uns, an' they'uns ain't heah. We'uns air
Tennesseans, an' you'uns hain't."

"We've got enough, an' they're good enough," said Si sententiously.
"Injianny turns out better men than Tennessee ever dreamed o' doing."

"I don't believe hit a mite," said the Sergeant, stooping down and
picking up a piece of cedar, which made a formidable club. "We'uns is
not a-gwine back with yo'uns nary a step. By rights, we'uns orter take
yo'uns back with we'uns. But I'm willin' to call hit off, and let yo'uns
go ef yo'uns 'll let we'uns go. Is hit a bargain?"

"Not by 40 rows o' apple trees it ain't," said Si, stepping back a
little to get a better range, and fixing his bayonet. "I've set my heart
on takin' you back to Co. Q, an' back to Co. Q you'll go, if Si Klegg
knows himself."38

"And you'll go in a hurry, too," said Shorty. "It's gettin' late, and
I'm always afraid to be out after dark. Mosey, now!"

The other rebels were picking up clubs similar to the Sergeant's and
casting their eyes on him for the signal to attack.

"See here," said Si desperately, cocking his gun. "Don't waste no more
time in words. This hain't a debatin' society. You're goin' back to Co.
Q or going somewhere else thunderin' quick. Sergeant, if you make a move
agin me I'll surely blow your head off en you, an' jab my bayonet
through the next man. My partner, Shorty, is a worse man than I am, an'
I can't tell how many of you he'll kill. He's awful quick-tempered, too,
towards evening, an' liable to begin shooting any minute without
warnin'. It'll save several lives if you start right off on the jump,
straight toward the rear, an' keep it up, with out looking to the right
or left, until you reach Co. Q. You'll find the trail we made comin' in.
Take it this minute."

The rebel Sergeant's eyes looked directly into the dark muzzle of Si's
gun. They glanced along the barrel, and met one eye looking directly
through the sights, while the other was closed, in the act of taking
deliberate aim. He decided with great promptness that there were many
reasons why he should prefer to be a live rebel in a Yankee prison,
rather than a badly-disfigured dead one in a lonely cedar thicket. He
dropped his club, turned around, and made his way along the path over
which Si had come. The rest followed, with Si and Shorty a few paces in
the rear.

Palpitating with pride, Si marched his prisoners up to the company, who
gave him three cheers. The Captain ordered him to report with his
prisoners to the Colonel.

Si Reports to the Colonel 38

The Colonel praised him with words that made his blood tingle.40

The skirmishing off to the right had now ceased. The rebels had fallen
back to the next hilltop, and the 200th Ind. was ordered to go into camp
where it stood.

Preparing Supper 40

It was a fine place for a camp. The mud of the day before was frozen
into stony hardness. The wagons had no difficulty in coming up. There
was wood and water in abundance, and it seemed that the command "Break
ranks March!" had hardly been uttered when great, bright, comfort-giving
fires of fragrant cedar rails flashed up all along the line.

Si and Shorty found several cedar stumps and logs, which they rolled
together, and made a splendid fire. They cooked themselves an ample
supper of fried pork, toasted hardtack, and strong, fragrant coffee,
which they devoured with an appetite and a keen enjoyment only possible
to healthy young men who have had a day of active manuvering and
marching in the crisp, chill air of December.

Then they gathered a lot of cedar branches, and made a thick mattress of
them near the fire, upon which to spread their blankets for the night.

This was a new suggestion by Shorty, and an amazing success.

"I declare, Shorty," said Si, as he lay down on the bed to try it, "I
often wonder where you get all your ideas. For a man who wasn't raised
on the Wabash you know an awful sight. Mebbe, if you'd actually been
born in Posey County you'd a-knowed enough to be a Jigadier-Brindle.
Then I'd a lost you for a pard. This's a great invention. Why, it's
softer and comfortabler than one of mother's feather beds. When I get
out of the army, I'm going to sleep on nothin' but cedar boughs."

"There, you're at it again the Wabash forever," returned Shorty, good-
humoredly. "They raise the finest corn and cattle in the world on the
Wabash, I'll admit, and some fairly good soldiers. But where'll you get
any cedars there to make beds with? You'll have to go back to sleepin'
on wheat straw and corn husks, with chicken-feather pillers. But after42
the way you stood up to that rebel Sergeant to-day I'll never say
another word about ager and milk-sick en the Wabash, and I'll lick any
other feller that does. There wasn't a speck of ager in your gizzard
when you ordered him forward, or you'd blow his Southern Confederacy
head off."

"There was more ager there than you thought, Shorty," Si admitted
softly. "I was awfully scared, for there was six to us two, and if that
feller 'd had the right kind of sand he'd a-jumped me at once, before I
could get my gun up. The moment he began to palaver I knowed I had him.
But I'd 'a' died in my tracks before I'd let him go, and I knowed you
would, too. You're the best pard a feller ever had."

And he reached over and took Shorty's rough hand and squeezed it
affectionately.

"I can bet on you every time, even when I don't think it's quite safe to
bet on myself. And, Shorty," he continued, with his eyes kindling, "it
was worth all that we've gone through since we've been in the army, even
all that time in the rain, to have the Colonel speak as he did to us
before the rest of the boys. I'd be willing to enlist three years more
if father and mother and sisters, and and Annabel could have heard him.
I tell you, war has some glorious things in it, after all."

He sat there on his bed before the fire, with his feet curled up under
him in the comfortable way that it takes months of field service to
acquire, and gazed steadily into the bank of glowing coals. They
suffused his face and body with their generous warmth, and helped lift
his soul toward the skies.43

He was much happier than he had ever been before in his life. The trials
of the day before were hardly more than a far-away dream. The fears and
anxieties of the coming battle were forgotten. The ruddy embers became a
radiant vista, which Pride and Hope and Joy filled with all that he
wanted to see. He saw there the dear old home on the Wabash, his father
seated by the evening lamp reading the paper, while his mother knit on
the other side of the table. His sisters were busy with some feminine
trifles, and Annabel had come in to learn the news. They would hear what
he had done, and of the Colonel's words of praise before the regiment,
and his father's heart would glow with pride and his mother's eyes
suffuse with tears. And Annabel but it passed words, passed thought,
almost, what she would say and think.

Just then tattoo rang out clear and musical on the chill night air. The
rattling military "good night" had never before had any special charms
for Si. But now he thought it an unusually sweet composition.

"I declare," he said to Shorty, "that sheepskin band of our'n is
improving. They're getting to play real well. But I ought to write a few
lines home before taps. Got any paper. Shorty?"

"Much paper you'll find in this regiment after that rain," said Shorty
contemptuously, as he knocked the ashes out of his pipe, and started to
fall in for roll-call. "Every mite of paper anybody has was soaked to
spitwads. But mebbe the Orderly might have a sheet."

After roll-call Si went to the Orderly-Sergeant.44

Nothing in reason could then be refused Si, and the Orderly tore a
couple of leaves out of the back of his treasured diary, which had
escaped the rain, and handed them to him. Si fished his stub of a pencil
out of his blouse-pocket, laid the paper on the back of a tin plate, and
began:

"Somewhere in Tennessee, December the 27th, 1862.

"Dere Annabel: We're movin' on Murphysboro, where we expect a big fite.
There's bin fitin' goin' on ever since we left Nashville, but the 200th
Ind. hain't had no hand in it so far, except this after noon me and
Shorty"

He stopped, stuck his pencil in his mouth, and began to study just what
words he should use to describe the occurrence. He wanted to tell her
all that was bubbling in his heart, and yet he was afraid she would
think him an intolerable boaster, if he told it in just the words that
came to him. He was more afraid of that little country girl's
disapproval than of all the rebels in Murfreesboro.

There were yells, the rattling of chains, and the sound of galloping
hoofs coming toward him.

"Hi, there; stop them condemned mules!" shouted the voice of a teamster.

Si jumped to his feet, for the mules were charging directly for his
fire, and were almost upon him. He dropped paper, pan and pencil, and
jumped to one side, just in time to avoid a rush which scattered his
fire, his carefully-prepared bed, and all his be longings under 24
flying, hard-pounding hoofs.

After the Mules Stampeded 44

"Blast mules, anyhow," said the driver, coming up with his whip in his
hand. "I didn't hev nothin' for them to eat but a cottonwood pole that I
cut down in the bottom. But they must have smelt fodder over there
somewhere, and they broke for it like the devil beatin' tanbark. Hope
you weren't hurt, pard."

Si and Shorty fixed up their fire again, rearranged46 their scattered
cedar boughs, and did the best they could with their torn blankets.

Si found that a mule's hoof had landed squarely on his tin plate, mashed
all future usefulness out of it, and stamped his letter to Annabel into
unrecognizability.

He threw the rent fragments into the fire, sighed deeply, and crawled
under the blankets with Shorty, just as three sounding taps on the bass-
drum commanded silence and lights out in the camp.

48



CHAPTER IV. THE SUNSHINE OF LIFE SI FEELS ONCE MORE THAT LIFE IS REALLY
WORTH LIVING.

THERE come times in every man's life when he feels himself part of the
sunshine that illumines and warms the earth:

The lover, after he has won his best girl's consent.

The candidate, after he has been elected by a big majority.

The valedictorian, after his address has been received with bursts of
ringing applause.

The clerk, after he has been admitted into partnership.

The next morning the camp of the 200th Ind. seemed to Si Klegg one of
the most delightful places on earth.

The sun shone brightly and cheerily through the crisp December air. The
fires of cedar rails sent up a pungent, grateful fragrance. Hardtack,
pork and coffee tasted better than he had ever known them.

Everybody noticed him and spoke pleasantly to him. The other boys of Co.
Q called out cheerily to him from their fires. Those from other
companies would stroll over to take a look at him and Shorty, and his
comrades would point them out proudly as fair specimens of Co. Q, and
what it was capable of doing when called upon in an emergency.

The Adjutant Smiled on si and Shorty 48

The Captain spoke very cordially to him and Shorty, the busy Adjutant
stopped and greeted them smilingly, and even the grave Colonel singled
them out for a pleasant "Good morning" and an inquiry as to whether they
had everything they wanted. It did not seem to Si that there was
anything more on earth just then for which he could ask.

The 200th Ind. having been at the head of the 49column when it halted,
was to take the rear for that day's march, and so remained in camp for a
while to let the rest pass on.

After getting things ready for the march Si and Shorty took a stroll
through the camp to see what was to be seen. They came across their
prisoners seated around a fire, under guard.

How different they looked from what they did the evening before, when
the two partners encountered them in the depths of the cedar brake. Then
they seemed like fierce giants, capable of terrible things, such as
would make the heart quail. Now, powerless of harm, and awed by the
presence of multitudes of armed men in blue filling the country in every
direction that they looked, they appeared very commonplace, ignorant,
rough men, long-haired, staring-eyed, and poorly-clad in coarse,
butternut-dyed homespun, frayed and tattered.

"Father gits better men than them to work on the farm for $8 a month,"
Si remarked to Shorty, after a lengthened survey of them.

"Eight dollars a month is Congressman's wages to what they git for
fightin' for the Southern Confederacy," answered Shorty. "I don't s'pose
any one of 'em ever had eight real dollars in his pocket in his life.
They say they're fightin' to keep us from takin' their niggers away from
'em, and yit if niggers wuz sellin' for $1 a-piece not one of 'em could
buy a six-months'-old baby. Let's go up and talk to 'em."

"I don't know 'bout that," said Si, doubtfully. "Seems to me I wouldn't
be particularly anxious to see men who'd taken me prisoner and talked
very cross about blowin' my blamed head off."50

"O, that's all right," answered Shorty confidently. "Words spoken in the
heat of debate, and so on. They won't lay them up agin us. If they do,
and want any satisfaction, we can give it to 'em. I kin lick any man in
that crowd with my fists, and so kin you. We'll jest invite 'em to a
little argyment with nature's weepons, without no interference by the
guard. Come on."

The Prisoners 50

The prisoners returned their greetings rather pleasantly. They were so
dazed by the host of strange faces that Si and Shorty seemed, in a
measure, like old acquaintances.

"Had plenty to eat, boys," asked Shorty, familiarly, seating himself on
a log beside them and passing his pipe and tobacco to the Sergeant.

"Plenty, thankee," said the Sergeant, taking the pipe and filling it.
"More'n we'uns 've had sence we left home, an' mouty good vittles, too.
You Yanks sartinly live well, ef yo'uns don't do nothin' else."

"Yes," said Shorty, with a glance at his mud-stained garments, "we're
bound to live high and dress well, even if we don't lay up a cent."

"You sartinly do have good cloze, too," said the Sergeant, surveying the
stout blue uniforms with admiration. "Yo'uns' common soldiers 've better
cloze than our officers. We'uns got hold o' some o' yo'uns' overcoats,
and they wear like leather."

"There's leather in 'em," said Shorty unblushingly. "I tell you, old Abe
Lincoln's a very smart man. He saw that this war was costin' a heap of
money, especially for clothes. He got a bright idee that by soaking the
clothes when they were new and green in the tan-vats, jest after the
leather wuz taken out, they'd take up the strength o' the leather out o'
the juice, and wear always. The idee worked bully, and now old Abe goes
every morning to where they're makin' clothes and sees that every stitch
is put to soak."

"Nobody but a Yankee'd thought o' that," said the rebel reflectively.52

"You bet," assented Shorty. "Jeff Davis'd never think of it if he lived
to be as old as Methuselah. But that's only the beginnin' of Abe
Lincoln's smartness."

"He's a durned sight smarter man than we'uns thought he wuz when we
begun the war," admitted the Sergeant. "But we'uns 'll wollop him yit,
in spite of his smartness."

"We kin tell more about that a few months later," returned Shorty. "It's
never safe to count the game until the last hand's played. We hain't
fairly begun to lead trumps yit. But what are you fellers fighting for,
anyhow?"

"We'uns foutin' for our liberty, and t' keep yo'uns from takin' our
niggers away."

The reply that came to Shorty's lips was that they seemed to be losing a
great deal of liberty rather than gaining it, but he checked this by the
fear that it would be construed as an ungentlemanly boast of their
capture. He said, instead:

"I never knowed as any of us wanted your niggers\x97me particularly. I
wouldn't take a wagon load of 'em, even if the freight was prepaid. But,
let me ask you, Sergeant, how many niggers do you own?"

"I don't own nary one."

"Does your father own any?"

"No, he don't."

"Does your mother, or brothers, uncles, aunts, or cousins own any?"
persisted Shorty.

"No, thar ain't nary one owned in the hull family."

"Seems to me," said Shorty, "you're doin' a great deal of fightin' to
keep us from takin' away from53 you something that we don't want and you
hain't got. That's the way it looks to a man from north o' the Ohio
River. Mebbe there's something in the Tennessee air that makes him see
differently. I'll admit that I've changed my mind about a good many
things since we crossed the river."

"I've alluz said," spoke another of the prisoners, "that this wuz a rich
man's wah and a pore man's fout."

"Well," said Shorty, philosophically, "for folks that like that sort o'
fightin,' that's the sort o' fightin' they like. I'm different. I don't.
When I fight it's for something that I've got an interest in."

While the discussion was going on Si had been studying the appearance of
the prisoners. In spite of their being enemies his heart was touched by
their comfortless condition. Not one of them had an overcoat or blanket.
The Sergeant and a couple of others had over their shoulders pieces of
the State House carpet, which had been cut up into lengths and sewed
together for blankets. Another had what had once been a gaudy calico
counterpane, with the pat tern "Rose of Sharon" wrought out in flaming
colors. It was now a sadly-bedraggled substitute for a blanket. The
others had webs of jeans sewed to gether.

The buttons were gone from their garments in many essential places, and
replaced by strings, nails, skewers and thorns. Worst of all, almost
every one of them was nearly shoeless. A sudden impulse seized Si.

"Shorty," said he, "these men are going up where the weather is very
cold. I wish I was able to54 give each of them a warm suit of clothes
and a blanket. I ain't though. But I tell you what I will do; I'll go
down to the Quartermaster and see if he'll issue me a pair of shoes for
each of 'em, and charge it to my clothin' account."

"Bully idee," ejaculated Shorty. "I'll go you halves. Mebbe if they git
their understandin' into Yankee leather it'll help git some Yankee idees
into their understandin'. See?"

And Shorty was so delighted with his little joke that he laughed over it
all the way to the Quarter master's wagon, and then rehearsed it for
that officer's entertainment.

Fortunately, the Quartermaster had a box of shoes that he could get at
without much trouble, and he was in sufficiently good humor to grant
Si's request.

They added a warm pair of socks to each pair of shoes, and so wrought up
the A. Q. M.'s sympathies that he threw in some damaged overcoats, and
other articles, which he said he could report "lost in action."

They came back loaded with stuff, which they dumped down on the ground
before the prisoners, with the brief remark:

"Them's, all yours. Put 'em on."

The prisoners were overwhelmed by this generosity on the part of their
foes and captors.

"I alluz thought," said the Sergeant, "that you Yankees wuz not half so
bad ez I believed that yo'uns wuz. Yo'uns is white men, if yo'uns do
want to take away our niggers."

"Gosh," said the man who had uttered the opinion that it was a rich
man's war and a poor man's fight,55 "I'd give all my interest in every
nigger in Tennessee for that ere one pa'r o' shoes. They're beauties, I
tell you. I never had so good a pa'r afore in all my life."

57



CHAPTER V. LINING UP FOR BATTLE THE 200TH IND. GUARDS THE WAGON TRAIN,
AND DEFEATS AN ATTACK.

"RAIN agin to-day," said Shorty, disgustedly, as, on the morning of Dec.
30, 1862, he crawled out of the shelter which he and Si had constructed
by laying a pole in the crotches of two young cedars, and stretching
their ponchos and pup-tents over it. "Doggoned if I don't believe
Tennessee was left out in the flood, and they've been tryin' to make up
for it ever since. I'd rather have the flood at once, and be done with
it, for then I'd join the navy instead of paddlin' 'round in this dirty
glue that they call mud." "Never saw such a grumbler, Shorty," said Si
cheerily, as he punched the soaked embers together to start a blaze to
boil their coffee by. "Last Summer the dust and dry weather didn't suit
you. Do you want to do your soldierin' in heaven?"

"Hurry up with your grub, boys," said the Orderly-Sergeant, who came
spattering through the muck of leaves and mud into which the camping-
ground had been trampled. "The regiment's to move in 15 minutes. The
200th Ind. guards wagon-trains to-day. Yesterday Wheeler's cavalry got
in among our wagons and raised thunder\x97burnt about a mile of 'em."

Shorty grumbled: "That means a tough day's work pryin' wagons out of the
mud, and restin' ourselves between times runnin' after a lot o'
skippin', cavortin' cavalry that's about as easy to ketch as a half-
bushel o' fleas. Anything I hate it's rebel cavalry58 all tear-around
and yell, and when you git ready to shoot they're on the other side o'
the hill."

"Well," said Si, removing a slab of sizzling fat pork from the end of
his rammer, laying it on his hardtack, and taking a generous bite, "we
mustn't allow them to take no wagons away from the 200th Ind., slosh
around as they may. We want all that grub ourselves."

"Well, hump yourselves," said the Orderly-Sergeant, as he spattered on;
"fall in promptly when assembly blows. Got plenty o' cartridges?"

Two or three hours later every man in the 200th Ind., wet to the skin,
and with enough mud on him to be assessable as real estate, was in a
temper to have sassed his gentle old grandmother and whipped his best
friend. He believed that if there was any thing under heavens meaner
than Tennessee weather it was an army mule; the teamsters had even less
sense and more contrariness than the mules; the army wagon was a
disheartening device of the devil, and Tennessee roads had been
especially contrived by Jeff Davis to break the hearts of Union
soldiers.

The rain came down with a steady pelt that drove right through to the
body. The wagon wheels sank into every mud-hole and made it deeper.
Prying out the leading ones seemed only to make it worse for the next.
The discouraged mules would settle back in the breech ings, and not pull
an ounce at the most critical moments. The drivers would become
blundering idiots, driveling futile profanity. In spite of all the mud
the striving, pushing, pulling, prying, lifting, shouting 200th Ind.
gathered up on their hands and clothes, it increased momentarily in the
road.59

The train had strung out over a mile or more of rocky ledges and abysses
of mire. Around each wagon was a squad who felt deeply injured by the
certainty that their infernal luck had given them the heaviest wagon,
the worst mules, and the most exasperating driver in the whole division.

"I couldn't 've made a doggoneder fool than Groundhog, that teamster,"
said Shorty, laying down his rail for a minute's rest, "if I'd 'a' had
Thompson's colt before my eyes for a pattern. That feller was born
addled, on Friday, in the dark of the moon."

"Them mules," dolefully corroborated Si, scraping an acre, more or less,
of red Tennessee soil from his overcoat with a stick, "need to be broke
again with a saw-log. Luck for old Job that the devil didn't think o'
settin' him to drive mules. He'd 'a-bin a-goner in less'n an hour."

"Doggone it, here they come," said Shorty, snatching up his gun.

Si looked in the direction of Shorty's glance. Out of the cedars, a mile
or more away, burst a regiment of rebel cavalry, riding straight for the
front of the train.

With his tribe's keen apprehension of danger, Groundhog had jumped from
his saddle, nervously unhitched his mule, and sprung into the saddle
again, ready for instant fight.

"Get off and hook that mule up agin," commanded Si sternly. "Now get on
your mule and go to the head of your team, take the leaders by the
bridles, and stay there."

"If you ain't standing there holding your mules when we come back I'll
break your worthless neck."60

The bugle sounded "Rally on the right flank," and Si and Shorty joined
the others in a lumbering rush over the miry fields toward the right.
Their soaked clothes hung about them like lead. They had not a spoonful
of breath left when they got to where, half-a-mile away, Co. A had taken
a position in the briers behind a rail fence, and had opened a long-
ranged fire on the cavalry, which was manuvering as if trying to
discover a way to take the company in flank. Another fence ran at right
angles away to the right of Co. A's position. The cavalry started for
that.

"Capt. McGillicuddy," shouted the Colonel, "take your company back to
that fence as quick as you can, run along back of it, and try to keep
those fellows on the other side."

Away the panting company rushed for the fence. The field was overgrown
with those pests of the Southern plowman, called locally "devil's shoe
strings," which stretch from furrow-ridge to furrow-ridge, and are
snares to any careless walker. The excited Indianians were constantly
tripped on these, and fell headlong in the mud. Down Si and Shorty went
several times, to the great damage of their tempers. But in spite of all
rain, mud, lack of breath and devil's shoe-strings the company got to
the fence in advance of the cavalry, and opened a scattering fire as
each man could get his damp gun to go off. Si and Shorty ran back a
little to a hillock, from which they could get long-distance shots on
where the cavalry would probably try to tear down the fence.

"It's all of 600 yards, Si," said Shorty, as he leaned against a young
oak, got his breath back in long gulps, and studied the ground. "We kin
make it, though, with our Springfields, if they'll give us time to cool
down and git our breaths. I declare I want a whole Township of fresh air
every second. That last time I fell knocked enough breath out o' me to
fill a balloon."

"There, they're sendin' out a squad now to go for the fence," said Si,
putting his sight up to 600 yards. "I'll line on that little persimmon
tree and shoot as they pass it. I'll take the fellow on the clay bank
horse, who seems to be an officer. You take the next one on the spotted
bay."

"Better shoot at the hoss," said Shorty, fixing his sight. "Bigger mark;
and if you git the hoss you git the man."

The squad made a rush for the fence, but as the leader crossed the line
Si had drawn on the persimmon tree through his sights, his musket
cracked, and the horse reared and fell over in the mud. Shorty broke the
shoulder of the next horse, and the rider had to jump off.

"Bully shots, boys. Do it again," shouted the Captain of Co. Q, hurrying
some men farther to the right, to concentrate a fire upon the exposed
point.

Si and Shorty hastily reloaded, and fired again at the rebels, who had
pressed on toward the fence, in spite of the fall of their leader. But
not having an object in line to sight on, Si and Shorty did not succeed
in bringing anybody down. But as they looked to see the effect, they
also saw a cannon-flash from a hill away off behind the cavalry, and the
same instant its rifled shot took the top off the young oak about six
feet above Si's head.62

A Close Shave 62

Shorty was the first to recover his wits and tongue. "Doggoned if
somebody else hain't been drawin' a bead on trees," he said, looking
into Si's startled face. "Knows how to shoot, too."

"I didn't notice that measly gun come up there. Did you, Shorty?" said
Si, trying to get his heart back out of his mouth, so that he could
speak plainly.

"No. I didn't. But it's there all the same, and the fellers with it have
blood in their eyes. Le's run over to where the other boys are. I'm a
private citizen. I don't like so much public notice."

They joined the squad which was driving back the rebels who had started
out to break the fence.

Presently the cavalry wheeled about and disappeared in the woods. The
rear was scarcely out of sight, and the 200th Ind. was just beginning to
feel a sense of relief, when there was a sputter of shots and a chorus
of yells away off to the extreme left.

"Just as I expected," grumbled Shorty. "They are jumping the rear of the
train now."

Leaving Co. A to watch the head of the train, the rest of the regiment
bolted off on the double-quick for the rear. They did not get there a
moment too soon. Not soon enough, in fact. As they came over the crest
of the hill they saw Co. B, which had been with the rear, having more
than it could attend to with a horde of yelling, galloping rebels, who
filled the little valley. Co. B's boys were standing up manfully to
their work, and popping away at the rebels from behind fences and rocks,
but the latter had already gotten away from them a wagon which had been
far to the rear, had cut loose the mules and run them off, and were
plundering the wagon, and trying to start a fire under it.

The fusillade which the regiment opened as the men grained the crest of
the hill, put a different64 complexion on the affair. The rebels
recognized the force of circumstances, and speedily rode back out of
range, and then out of sight. As the last of them disappeared over the
hill the wearied regiment dropped down all around to rest.

Groundhog Fled 64

"We can't rest long, boys," said the sympathetic Colonel; "we've got to
start these wagons along."

Presently he gave the order:

"Go back to your wagons, now, and get them out as quickly as you can."

Si and Shorty took a circuit to the left to get on some sod which had
not been trampled into mortar. They heard a volley of profanity coming
from a cedar brake still farther to the left, and recognized the voice
of their teamster. They went thither, and found Groundhog, who had fled
from the scene, after the manner of his race, at the first sound of
firing, but had been too scared to fasten up his traces when he
unhitched his saddle mule. These had flapped around, as he urged his
steed forward, and the hooks had caught so firmly into the cedars when
he plunged into the thicket that he was having a desperate time getting
them loose.

"You dumbed, measly coward," said Si. "I told you I'd blow your head
offen you if you didn't stay by them mules. I ought to do it."

"Don't, Si," said Shorty. "He deserves it, and we kin do it some other
time. But we need him now in our business. He hain't much of a head, but
it's all that he's got and he can't drive without it. Le's git the mule
loose first."

They got the mule out and turned him around toward the wagons.

"Now," said Shorty, addressing Groundhog, "you white-livered son-in-law
of a jackass, git back to that wagon as fast as you kin, if you don't
want me to run this bayonet through you."

There was more straining and prying in the dreary rain and fathomless
mud to get the wagons started.66

"Shorty," said Si, as they plodded alongside the road, with a rail on
one shoulder and a gun on the other, "I really believe that this is the
toughest day we've had yet. What d'you s'pose father and mother'd say if
they could see us?"

Earning Thirteen Dollars a Month 57

"They'd probably say we wuz earning our $13 a month, with $100 bounty at
the end o' three years.," snapped Shorty, who was in no mood for
irrelevant conversation.

So the long, arduous day went. When they were not pulling, pushing,
prying, and yelling, to get the wagons out of mudholes, they were
rushing over the clogging, plowed fields to stand off the nagging rebel
cavalry, which seemed to fill the country as full as the rain, the mud,
the rocks and the sweeping cedars did. As night drew on they came up to
lines of fires where the different divisions were going into line-of-
battle along the banks of Stone River. The mud became deeper than ever,
from the trampling of tens of thousands of men and animals, but they at
least did not have the aggravating rebel cavalry to bother them. They
found their division at last in an old cottonfield, and were instantly
surrounded by a crowd of hungry, angry men.

"Where in blazes have you fellers bin all day?" they shouted. "You ought
to've got up here hours ago. We're about starved."

"Go to thunder, you ungrateful whelps," said Si. "You kin git your own
wagons up after this. I'll never help guard another wagon-train as long
as I'm in the army."



CHAPTER VI. BATTLE OF STONE RIVER THE 200TH IND. IS PRAISED FOR BRAVERY.

THE fagged-out 200th Ind. was put in reserve to the brigade, which lay
in the line-of-battle. After having got the train safely into camp, the
regiment felt that it was incapable of moving another foot.

While their coffee was boiling Si and Shorty broke off a few cedar
branches to lay under them, and keep out the mud. The rain still
drizzled, cold, searching and depressing, but they were too utterly
tired to do anything more than spread their over coats on the branches,
lay their blankets and ponchos over, and crawl in between.

In the few minutes which they allowed to elapse between getting into
camp and going to sleep they saw and heard something of the preparations
going on around them for the mighty battle, but body and brain were too
weary to properly "sense" these. They hardly cared what might happen to-
morrow. Rest for to-day was everything. They were too weary to worry
about anything in the future.

"It certainly looks, Shorty," said Si, as he crawled in, "like as if the
circus was in town, and the big show'd come off to-morrow, without
regard to the68 weather."

"Let it come and be blamed to it," snorted Shorty. "They can't git up
nothin' wuss'n we've bin havin' to-day, let them try their durndest. But
I tell you, Mr. Si Klegg, I want you to lay mighty still to-night. If
you git to rollin' around in your usual animated style and tanglin' up
the bedclothes, I'll kick you out into the rain, and make you stay
there. Do you hear me?"

"You bet I'll lay quiet," said Si, as together they gave the skillful
little kick only known to veteran campaigners by which they brought the
blankets snugly up around their feet. "You could sooner wake up a fence-
rail than me. I want to tell you, too, not to git to dreamin' of pryin'
wagons out of the mud, and chasin' rebel cavalry. I won't have it."

The reveille the next morning would have promptly awakened even more
tired sleepers than Si and Shorty. Even before the dull, damp drums
began rolling and the fifes shrieking the air of enforced gaiety along
the sinuous line of blue which stretched for miles through red, muddy
cottonfields and cedar tangles wet as bath-room sponges, there came from
far away on the extreme right a deepening roll of musketry, punctuated
with angry cannon-shots and the faint echo of yells and answering
cheers.

"That's McCook opening the battle," said the officers, answering the
anxious looks of the men. "He's to hold the rebels out there, while
Crittenden sweeps around on the left, captures Murfreesboro, and takes
them in the rear."

Miles away to the left came the sound of musketry and cannons, as if to
confirm this. But the firing there died down, while that to the right
increased69 with regular, crashing volleys from muskets and artillery.

The 200th Ind. was in that exceedingly trying position for soldiers,
where they can hear everything but see nothing. The cedar thicket in
which they stood shut off the view in every direction. The Colonel kept
officers and men standing strictly in place, ready for any contingency.
Si and Shorty leaned on their muskets and anxiously watched the
regimental commander as he sat rigidly in his saddle, with his fixed
gaze bent in the direction of the awful tumult. The Adjutant had ridden
forward a little ways to where he could get a better view. The other
officers stood stiffly in their places, with the points of their drawn
swords resting on the ground, and their hands clasped on the hilts, and
watched the Colonel intently. Sometimes they would whisper a few words
to those standing near them. The Captain of Co. Q drew geometric figures
in the mud with the point of his sword.

Constantly the deafening crash came nearer, and crept around farther to
the right.

Si gave a swift glance at Shorty. His partner's teeth were set, his face
drawn and bloodless, his eyes fixed immovably on the Colonel.

"Awful fightin' goin' on out there, Shorty," said Si, in hushed voice.
"I'm afraid they're lickin' our fellers."

"Confound it!" snorted Shorty, "why in thunder don't they move us out,
and give us something to do? This is hell standin' here listenin'."

A teamster, hatless and coatless, with his hair70 standing up, came
tearing through the brush, mounted on his saddle-mule.

A chorus of yells and curses greeted his appearance. It was immense
relief for the men to have something to swear at.

A Frightened Teamster 70

"Run, you egg-sucking hound. "Run, you scald-headed dominie.71

"Somebody busted a cap in your neighborhood, old white-liver."

"Seen the ghost of a dead rebel, Pilgarlic?"

"Pull back your eyes, you infernal mulewhacker. A limb'll brush 'em
off."

"Look at his hair standin' up stiffer'n bristles on a boar's back."

"Your mules got more sand 'n you. They're standing where you left 'em."

"Of course, you're whipped and all cut to pieces. You was that when you
heard the first gun crack."

"Get out of the way, and let him run himself to death. That's all he's
fit for."

"You've no business in men's clothes. Put on petticoats."

"Go it, rabbit; go it, cotton-tail you've heard a dog bark."

"Chickee chickee skip for the barn. Hawk's in the air."

"Let him alone. He's in a hurry to get back and pay his sutler's bill."

The teamster gasped out:

"You'd better all git out o' here as fast as the Lord'll let you.
Johnson's Division's cut all to pieces and runnin'. There'll be a
million rebels on top o' you in another minnit."

"Capt. McGillicuddy," said the Colonel sternly, but without turning his
head, "either bayonet that cowardly rascal or gag him and tie him to a
tree."

The Captain turned to give the order to Corp'l Klegg, but the teamster
struck his mule with his whip, and went tearing on through the brush
before the order could be given.72

Some severely-wounded men came slowly pushing their way through the
chaparral.

"It's awful hot out there," they said. "The rebels got the start of us,
and caught our battery horses off to water. They outflanked us bad, but
the boys are standin' up to 'em and they're gettin' help, an 'll lick
the stuffin' out of 'em yet."

The regiment gave the plucky fellows a cheer.

A riderless horse, frantic from his wounds and the terrific noise, tore
through the brush, and threatened to dash over Co. Q. Si and Shorty saw
the danger, and before the Captain could give an order they sprang
forward, and, at considerable risk, succeeded in getting hold of the
reins and partially calming the poor brute. The eagles on the saddle
cloth showed that he belonged to a Colonel. He was led to the rear, and
securely haltered to a young cedar. The incident served a purpose in
distracting for awhile the attention of the regiment.

The noise in front and to the right swept farther away for a little
while, and the men's hearts rose with a cheer.

"Now the reinforcements are getting in. Why in the world don't they send
us forward?" they said.

The Colonel still sat rigidly, with his face straight to the front.

Then the noise began to roll nearer again, and the men's hearts to sink.

The wounded men coming back became a continuous procession. They spoke
less confidently, and were anxious to know what was taking place on
other parts of the line.

"The whole infernal Southern Confederacy's out73 there," said one boy,
who was holding his shattered right hand in his left, with his thumb
pressed hard on the artery, to stanch the blood, "in three lines-of-
battle, stretching from daybreak to sunset. The boys have been standing
them off bully, though, but I don't know how long they can keep it up.
Thomas and Crittenden ought to be walking right over every thing, for
there can't be anybody in front of them. They're all out there."

Two musicians came laboring through, carrying a stretcher on which was
an officer with part of his face shot away. Si felt himself growing
white around the mouth and sick at the stomach, but he looked the other
way, and drew in a long, full breath.

The storm now seemed to be rolling toward them at railroad speed.
Suddenly the woods became alive with men running back, some with their
guns in their hands, many without. Some were white with fear, and
silent; some were in a delirium of rage, and yelling curses. Officers,
bareheaded, and wildly excited, were waving their swords, and calling
regiments and companies by name to halt and rally.

The Adjutant came galloping back, his horse knocking the fugitives right
and left. He shouted, to make himself heard in the din:

"The whole division is broken and going back. Our brigade is trying to
hold the rebels. They need us at once."

The Colonel turned calmly in his saddle, and his voice rang out clear,
distinct, and measured, as if on parade:

"Attention, 200th Indiana!"

"Load at will LOAD!"

A windrow of bright ramrods flashed and weaved in the air. A wave of
sharp, metallic clicks ran from one end of the line to the other.

"Shoulder ARMS!"

"Right FACE!"

"Forward MARCH!"

What happened immediately after emerging from the cedars Si could never
afterward distinctly recall. He could only vaguely remember as one does
the impression of a delirium seeing, as the regiment swung from column
into line, a surging sea of brown men dashing forward against a bank of
blue running along a rail fence, and from which rose incessant flashes
of fire and clouds of white smoke. The 200th Ind. rushed down to the
fence, to the right of the others; the fierce flashes flared along its
front; the white smoke curled upward from it. He did not remember any
order to begin firing; did not remember when he began. He only
remembered presently feeling his gun-barrel so hot that it burned his
hand, but this made him go on firing more rapidly than before. He was
dimly conscious of his comrades dropping around him, but this did not
affect him. He also remembered catching sight of Shorty's face, and
noticing that it was as black as that of a negro, but this did not seem
strange.

He felt nothing, except a consuming rage to shoot into and destroy those
billows of brown fiends surging incessantly toward him. Consciousness
only came back to him after the billows had surged back ward into the
woods, leaving the red mud of the field splotched with brown lumps which
had lately been men.75

As his mind cleared his hand flinched from the hot gun-barrel, and he
looked down curiously to see the rain-drops turn into steam as they
struck it. His throat was afire from the terrible powder thirst. He
lifted his canteen to his lips and almost drained it. He drew a long
breath, and looked around to see what had happened since they left the
cedars. Shorty was by his side, and unhurt. He now under stood why his
face was so black. He could feel the thick incrustation of powder and
sweat on his own. Several of Co. Q were groaning on the ground, and the
Captain was detailing men to carry them back to where the Surgeon had
established himself. Two were past all surgery, staring with soulless
eyes into the lowering clouds.

"Poor Bill and Ebe," said Si, gazing sorrowfully at the bodies. "Co. Q
will miss them. What good boys they\x97"

"Were" stuck in his throat. That those strong, active, ever-ready
comrades of a few minutes before now merely "were" was unspeakable.

His thoughts were distracted by a rebel battery on the hill sending a
volley of shells at the fence. Some went over, and tore gaps in the
cedars beyond. One struck the corner of the fence near him, and set the
rails to flying.

"I like fence-rails in their place as well as any man," said Shorty, as
they dodged around; "but a fence-rail's got no business sailin' 'round
in the air like a bird."

An Aid rode up to the Colonel.

"The General's compliments, Colonel. He directs me to express to you his
highest compliments on the76 splendid manner in which you have defended
your position. You and your men have done nobly. But we are outflanked,
and it will be necessary to retire to a new position about a half-mile
to the rear. You will withdraw your regiment by companies, so as to
attract as little attention from the enemy as possible. As soon as they
are under cover of the cedars you will move rapidly to the new
position."

"Very well," said the Colonel, saluting. "You will be good enough to say
to the General that my men and myself appreciate highly his praise. We
are proud to receive it, and shall try to deserve it in the future. His
orders shall be immediately obeyed."

"They call this a civil war," said Shorty, as an other volley of shells
tore around. "Seems to me sometimes that it's too durned civil. If we're
goin' to git out of here, we might save compliments for a quieter time."

One by one the companies filed back into the cedars, Co. Q being last.
Just as they started the rebels on the opposite hill discovered the
movement, raised a yell, and started across the field.

"Halt Front!" commanded the Captain. "Those fellows are too tumultuous
and premature. We must check them up a little. Wait till they come to
that little branch, then everybody pick his man and let him have it. Aim
below the belt."

The frenzy of the first struggle was now gone from Si's mind; instead
had come a deadly determination to make every shot tell.

"I'm goin' to fetch that mounted officer on their right," he said to
Shorty and those around him.

"Very well," said Shorty. "I'll take that Captain77 near him who's
wavin' his sword and yellin'. The rest o' you fellers pick out different
men."

The rebel line was in the weeds which bordered the branch when the
Captain gave the order to fire.

When the smoke arose the mounted officer and the yelling Captain were
down.

"If somebody else didn't get them, we did," said Shorty, as they turned
and rushed back into the cedars.

The rebels were only checked momentarily. They soon came swarming on,
and as Co. Q crashed through the cedars the rebels were yelling close be
hind. Fortunately, they could not do any effective firing, on account of
the brush. But when they came to the edge of the thicket there was a
long run across a furrowed, muddy cottonfield, to reach the knoll on
which the brigade was re-forming. The battery was already in action
there, throwing shells over the heads of Co. Q at the rebels swarming
out of the cedars in pursuit.

Si and Shorty threw away overcoats, blankets, haversacks and canteens
everything which would impede their running, except their guns and
cartridge-boxes. Their caps were gone, and Si had lost one shoe in the
mud. They all sat down on the ground for a minute and panted to get
their breath.

The rebels were checked, but only temporarily. They were thronging out
in countless multitudes, lining up into regiments and brigades,
preparatory to a rush across the field upon the brigade. Away to the
right of the brigade rebel batteries had been concentrated, which were
shelling it and the ground to the rear, to prevent any assistance being
sent it.78

"Captain," said the Colonel, riding up to Co. Q, "the General says that
we have got to stay here and hold those fellows back until the new line
can be formed along the pike. We haven't ammunition enough for another
fight. You'll have to send a Corporal and a squad back to the pike to
bring up some more. Pick out men that'll be sure to come back, and in a
hurry."

"Corp'l Klegg," said the Captain, without an instant's hesitation, "you
hear what's to be done. Take five men and go."

Si looked around to see if there was someone he could borrow a shoe
from. But that was hardly a time when men were likely to lend shoes. He
picked Shorty and four others. They flung down their guns and started on
a run for the pike.

The batteries were sweeping the fields with shells, but they were so
intent on their errand that they paid no attention to the demoniac
shrieks of the hurtling pieces of iron.

They gained the other side of the field, but as they entered the welcome
shelter of the woods they encountered an officer with a drawn sword,
commanding a line of men.

"Stop there, you infernal, cowardly rascals," he yelled. "Pick up those
guns there, and get into line, or I'll shoot you. You, Corporal, ought
to be ashamed of yourself."

"We're after ammunition for the 200th Ind.," gasped Si. "We must have it
right away. Where's the division ammunition train?"

"That ammunition story's played. Can't work it on me. Where's your
regiment? Where's your79 caps? Where's your shoes? Where's your guns?
You're rattled out of your senses. Stop here and cool off. Pick up guns
there and fall into line."

"Name o' God, Lieutenant," said Shorty excitedly. "This's no time for
any foolishness. Our regiment's out there on the hill without any
ammunition. The rebels are gittin' ready to jump it, four or five to
one. Don't fool, for heaven's sake. There's not a minute to waste. Come
with us and help us git the ammunition. That's a blame sight more
important than stoppin' these here runaways, who're no good when they
are stopped. Come along, for God's sake."

His earnestness impressed the Lieutenant.

"Lieut. Evans," he called out, "take command of the line while I go back
with these men to the ammunition-train. I can get it quicker for them
than they can. Your Colonel should have sent a commissioned officer with
you."

"The Colonel needs all the officers he has left with him," panted
Shorty, running ahead of the rest. "Everybody back there's got all he
can attend to, and we couldn't really be spared."

There was a crowd of similar men surging around the ammunition wagons,
each eager to get his load and rush back. The covers of the wagons had
been torn off, and a man stood in each, pitching the boxes to the
clamoring details. All were excited and reckless. The pitching would be
wild, or the catching bad, and occasionally a box would strike a man on
the head or body and knock him down. He would scarcely stop to swear,
but snatch up his precious box and rush off toward his regiment.80

"Open out here, let us in," commanded the Lieutenant, striking right and
left with the flat of his sword. It was not a moment for gentle
courtesies. The crowd opened up, and Si and Shorty pushed in near the
wheels.

"Now give us six boxes in a hurry," commanded the Lieutenant.

Si caught the first box, Shorty the second, and before the Lieutenant
was hardly done speaking the rest had theirs, and started back on the
run, accompanied by the Lieutenant. The boxes were very heavy and the
mud was deep, but they went faster than they had ever done, even when
running from the rebels.

"I'm awfully afraid you'll have a time getting across the field there,"
said the Lieutenant, as they came to the edge, and he surveyed the
ground in front doubtfully. "Lieut. Evans says they've moved a battery
up closer, and are sweeping the field with canister."

"We don't care what they're shootn'," said Si resolutely. "We're goin'
back to the regiment with these boxes, or die a-tryin'."

"Go on, then, and God help you," said the Lieutenant. "I'd go with you
if I could do any good."

Si arranged his box for a desperate rush. A blast of canister swept
through, cutting down shrubs, splattering the mud, and shrieking
viciously.

"Let's get as far as we can before they fire again," he shouted, and
plunged forward. Half-way across the field his foot caught in a devil's
shoe-string, and down he went in the mud, with the heavy box driving him
deeper.81

Just then another blast of canister hurtled across the field.

A Lucky Fall 81

"Golly, it was lucky, after all, that I was tripped," said Si, rising,
stunned and dripping. "That load of canister was meant for me
personally."

Two minutes later he flung the box down before the company, and sank
panting on the ground. The others came up after. Some had teen grazed by
canister, but none seriously wounded. They arrived just in the nick of
time, for the regiment had expended its last cartridge in repulsing the
last assault, and was now desperately fixing bayonets to meet the next
with cold steel. The lids of the boxes were pried off with bayonets, and
the Sergeants ran along the companies distributing the packages. The
assault was met with a stream of fire, given with steady deadliness,
which sent the rebels back to their covert.

An Aid dashed across the field to the brigade commander.

"The line is now formed," he said. "Retire your command to it."

That night, after the battle had ceased, Si and Shorty were seated on a
rail by the Nashville pike munching rations which they had luckily found
in a thrown-away haversack. They were allowed no fires, they had no
blankets nor overcoats, and it was bitter cold.

"Shorty, you said last night you was sure that they couldn't git up
nothin' to-day that'd be as bad as what we had yesterday," said Si. "I
bel'eve that I'd rather guard wagon-trains and fight cavalry than have
such another day as this."

"I think the lake of brimstone'd be a pleasant change from this,"
snorted Shorty.

84



CHAPTER VII. AFTER THE FIRST DAY THE DISCOMFORTS OF THAT LAST NIGHT OF
1862.

IT WAS so desperately cold and comfortless that Si and Shorty felt that
they must do something or perish.

There were some fragments of cracker-boxes near. With these they dug a
hole several inches deep, put some splinters in, and started a stealthy
blaze. They were careful to sit on the side toward the rebels, the
better to hide from them any sight of it. It was a very small fire, but
there was more relief in it than Si had before gotten from those a
thousand times larger. It kept his unshod foot from freezing, and
brought the blood back to his numb hands.

"Just think, Shorty," said Si; "night before last we had a whole panel
of fence on the fire, and all our blankets and overcoats, and yet you
kicked. I believe this is a judgment on you for not being thankful for
what you receive."

"Judgment be blowed," ejaculated Shorty. "This ain't no judgment; it's
just durned luck that is, what isn't foolishness in sendin' a boy to
mill. If we'd had only half as many men out there in the cedars as the
rebels had we'd licked thunder out of 'em. We simply couldn't whip four
or five to one. McCook didn't size up his job right."

"Well, we have something to be thankful for," said Si, determined to see
the bright side of things. "Neither of us got hurt, which is a
blessing."

"Don't know whether it is or not. If we are goin' to freeze to death
before mornin' I'd rather've bin shot the first volley."

The misty darkness around them was filled with noise and motion. Men who
had become separated from their regiments were wandering around trying
to find them, in the bewildering maze of men, wagons and animals.
Officers were calling aloud the names of regiments to bring together
stragglers. Aids were rushing around to find Generals and Colonels to
give and receive orders and instructions. Regiments and batteries were
marching hither and yon to get into position and complete the formation
of the line for the morrow's battle. The 200th Ind., which had fallen
back in good order with its brigade, was well together, and made an
island around which a restless sea of humanity flowed and eddied. Cheer
less as was its bivouac in the cold mud, yet it was infinitely
preferable to being lost in the inextricable confusion that reigned over
those cottonfields on that sorrowful night of Dec. 31, 1862.

"I'm not goin' to freeze to death," said Si, starting up, at last. "I'm
going to look around and see if I can't find something to make us more
comfortable. Shorty, hold on to that hole in the ground. It's all that
we've got left in the world, and if we lose that I don't know what'll
become of us."

"Better stay here, and not go wanderin' off into that mob," remonstrated
Shorty. "You'll git lost entirely, and never find your way back."85

"I'll not get lost," responded Si. "I've got the lay o' the ground in my
mind. If I did," he continued proudly, "it'd be easy to find you agin.
Everybody knows where the 200th Ind. is."

He went only a little ways, and carefully, at first.

He was rewarded by kicking against an object which upon examination
proved to be a well-filled haver sack, which someone had flung away in
his hurry. He carried it back, rejoicing, to Shorty.

Finding a Good Thing 85

"Finders is keepers," said Shorty, unbuckling the knapsack. "We'll just
call this fair exchange for what we've throwed away in to-day's hustle.
Let's open her up."

"Some new recruit's," said Si, as they examined the inside. "Looks like
the one I packed from Injianny. What's this? I declare if it ain't a
pair o' new shoes, and about my size; and some socks. I tell you,
Shorty, I'm in luck."

He pulled the muddy socks off his shoeless foot, and drew on one of the
warm, homemade affairs, and then the shoe. Both fitted well. He put on
the other sock and shoe, and life at once seemed brighter.

"Shorty," said he, "I shouldn't wonder if I could find a blanket and an
overcoat. You keep on holding that hole down, and I'll go out agin. I
won't be gone long, for I'm dead tired. Just as soon as I find an
overcoat or a blanket to put between us and the mud, I'll come back and
we'll lay down. Every joint in me aches."

He started off less carefully this time. His new shoes made him feel
more like walking. He was some distance from the regiment before he knew
it. He found an overcoat. It had been trampled into the mud by thousands
of passing feet, but still it was an overcoat, and it was not a time to
be too nice about the condition of a garment. Presently he found a
blanket in similar condition. He pulled on the overcoat, and threw the
blanket over his 87shoulders. He felt warmer, but they were very heavy.
Still, he thought he would go on a little ways farther, and perhaps he
would find another overcoat and blanket, which would fix out both him
and his partner.

All this time men were sweeping by him in companies, regiments and
squads; batteries were moving in all directions, and mounted officers
were making their way to and fro. Filling up the spaces between these
were hundreds of men, single and in small groups, wandering about in
search of their regiments, and inquiring of everyone who would stop to
listen to them as to the whereabouts of regiments, brigades and
divisions. No one could give any satisfactory information. Organizations
which had formed a line two miles long in the morning had been driven
back, frequently in tumult and disorder, for miles through the thickets
and woods. Fragmentary organizations had been rallied from time to time.
A fragment of a regiment would rally at one point with fragments of
other regiments and make a stand, while other regiments would rally at
widely-separated places and renew the fight, only to be pushed back
again toward the Nashville Pike. Regiments and brigades that had
remained nearly intact had been rapidly shifted from one point to
another, as they were needed, until the mind could not follow their
changes, or where nightfall had found them, or whither they had been
shifted to form the new line.

At last Si succeeded in picking up another over coat and blanket out of
the mud, and started to go back to the regiment.88

But where was the regiment? He had long since lost all track of its
direction. He had been so intent upon studying the ground for thrown-
away clothing that he had not noticed the course he had taken.

It suddenly dawned on him that he was but one drop in that great ocean
of 35,000 men, surging around on the square miles lying between the
Nashville Pike and Stone River. He looked about, but could see nothing
to guide him. His eyes rested everywhere on dark masses of moving men.
Those immediately around him were inquiring weariedly for their own
regiments; they had no patience to answer inquiries as to his own.
Discouraged, he determined to walk as straight ahead as possible in the
direction which he had come, and see where that would bring him. He was
so tired that he could scarcely drag one foot after another, but he
plodded on. At length he drew out of the throng a little, and saw that
he was approaching the banks of a large stream. This disheartened him,
for they had not been within miles of Stone River during the day. He saw
a group of men huddled around a larger fire than had been permitted near
the front. This, too, was discouraging, for it showed that he had been
forging toward the rear. But he went up to the group and inquired:

"Do any o' you know where the 200th Ind. is?"

The men had become wearied out answering similar questions, and were as
cross as soldiers get to be under similar circumstances.

"The 200th Ind.," snapped one; "better go back to the rear-guard and
inquire. The straggler-ketchers 've got 'em."89

"No," said another; "they skipped out before the rear-guard was formed,
and were all drowned trying to swim the Cumberland."

"They say the Colonel went on foot," said a third, "and was the first
man in the regiment to reach Nashville. Made the best long-distance run
on record."

"You infernal liars," roared Si; "if I wasn't so tired I'd lick the
whole caboodle of you. But I'll say this: Any man who says that the
200th Ind. run, or that our brave Colonel run, or that any man in it
run, is a low-down, measly liar, and hain't a grain a' truth in him, and
he daresn't take it up."

It was a comprehensive challenge, that would have met with instantaneous
response at any other time, but now the men were too exhausted for such
vanities as fisticuffs.

"O, go off and find your rattled, lousy Hoosiers," they shouted in
chorus. "Go talk to the Provost-Marshal about 'em. He's got the most of
'em. The rest are breaking for the Wabash as fast as their legs can
carry them. Don't be bothering us about that corn-cracking, agery
crowd."

"Where'd you leave your regiment, you chuckle-headed straggler?"

"You were so rattled you couldn't tell which way they went."

"Where's your gun?"

"Where's your cartridge-box and haversack?"

"Where's your cap?"

"You were so scared you'd 'a' throwed away your head if it'd been
loose!"

"Clear out from here, you dead-beat."90

Si's Challenge 90

Si was too sick at heart to more than resolve that he would remember
each one of them, and pay them off at some more convenient time. He
turned and walked back as nearly as possible in the direction in which
he had come. He knew that his regiment was at the front, and he had been
forging toward the rear. He knew vaguely that the front was some where
near the Nashville Pike, and as he wearily wound around and through the
bewildering masses, he inquired only for the Nashville Pike.

He reached the Pike, at last, just as he was sinking with fatigue. The
dreary rain had set in again, and he had determined to give the thing
up, and sit down, and wait for morning. He saw a feeble glimmer of light
at a distance, and decided to make one more effort to reach it, and
inquire for his regiment.

"Partner, have you any idee where the 200th Ind. is?" he said meekly to
the man who was crouching over the fire in the hole.

"Hello, Si," said Shorty. "I had given you up long ago. Of course, you
went off and got lost in that mob, as I told you you would. Next time
you'll have sense enough to mind what I say."

"O, Shorty," groaned Si, "don't say nothing. I've nigh walked my legs
offen me. I think I've tramped over every foot of ground betwixt here
and Overall's Crick. But I've brought back two overcoats and two
blankets."

"That's bully," answered Shorty, much mollified. "Say, I've got an idee.
D'you see that white thing over there? That's a wagon. The mules 've
been taken away, and it's been standing there for an hour. I've seen the
Lieutenants and the Orderly-Sergeant sneak back there, and I know what
they're up to. They're goin' to sleep in the wagon. Of course, they're
officers, and got the first pick. But we kin92 lay down under it, and
get out of the rain. Be sides, it looks as if the ground was drier up
there than it is down here."

They slipped quietly back to the wagon, and were lucky enough to find a
little hay in the feed-box, which they could lay down to spread their
blankets upon. They pulled the tail-gate off and set it up on the side
from which the rain was coming.

"There," said Shorty, as they crawled in. "Si, what'd you do without me?
Ain't I a comfort to you every minute of your life?"

"You certainly are, Shorty," said Si, as he fell asleep.



CHAPTER VIII. A GLOOMY NEW YEAR'S DAY THE TWO ARMIES LIE FROWNING AT
EACH OTHER.

SI WAS awakened the next morning by the rain dashing down squarely on
his upturned face. He was lying on the flat of his back, sleeping the
sleep of the utterly outworn, and he got the full force of the shower.

"Plague take it, Shorty," said he, kicking his snoring partner, "you're
at your old tricks again scrougin' me out o' the tent while I'm asleep.
Why can't you lay still, like a white man?"

"It's you, dod rot you," grumbled Shorty, half-awakening. "You're at
your old tricks o' kickin' the tent down. You need a 10-acre lot to
sleep in, and then you'd damage the fence-corners."

They were both awake by this time, and looked around in amazement.

"We went to sleep nice and comfortable, under a wagon last night," said
Shorty, slowly recalling the circumstances. "The two Lieutenants and the
Orderly had the upper berth, and we slept on the ground-floor."

"Yes," assented Si; "and someone's come along, hitched mules to our
bedroom and snaked it off."

"Just the way in the condemned army," grumbled Shorty, his ill-humor
asserting itself as he sat up and looked out over the rain-soaked
fields. "Never kin git hold of a good thing but somebody yanks it94
away. S'pose they thought that it was too good for a private soldier,
and they took it away for some Major-General to sleep under."

A Disagreeable Awakening for Shorty and Si. 94

"Well, I wonder what we're goin' to do for grub?" said Si, as his
athletic appetite began to assert itself.

"Our own wagons, that we had such a time guarding, are over there in the
cedars, and the rebels are filling themselves up with the stuff that we
were so good to bring up for them."

"It makes me jest sizzle," said Shorty, "to think of all we went through
to git them condemned wagons up where they'd be handiest for them."

Si walked down the line toward where the Regimental Headquarters were
established under a persimmon tree, and presently came back, saying:

"They say there's mighty small chance of gettin' any grub to-day.
Wheeler burnt three or four miles of our wagons yesterday, and's got
possession of the road to Nashville. We've got to fight the battle out
on empty stomachs, and drive these whelps away before we kin get a
square meal."

Jan. 1, 1863, was an exceedingly solemn, unhappy New Year's Day for the
Union soldiers on the banks of Stone River. Of the 44,000 who had gone
into the line on the evening of Dec. 30, nearly 9,000 had been killed or
wounded and about 2,000 were prisoners. The whole right wing of the army
had been driven back several miles, to the Nashville Pike. Cannon,
wagon-trains, tents and supplies had been captured by the rebel cavalry,
which had burned miles of wagons, and the faint-hearted ones murmured
that the army would have to surrender or starve.

There was not ammunition enough to fight an other battle. The rebel army
had suffered as heavily in killed and wounded, but it was standing on
its own ground, near its own supplies, and had in addition captured
great quantities of ours.96

The mutual slaughter of the two armies had been inconceivably awful
inexpressibly ghastly, shuddering, sickening. They had pounded one
another to absolute exhaustion, and all that sullen, lowering, sky-
weeping Winter's day they lay and glared at one another like two huge
lions which had fanged and torn each other until their strength had been
entirely expended, and breath and strength were gone. Each was too spent
to strike another blow, but each too savagely resolute to think of
retreating.

All the dogged stubbornness of his race was now at fever point in Si's
veins. Those old pioneers and farmers of the Wabash from whom he sprang
were not particularly handsome to look at, they were not glib talkers,
nor well educated. But they had a way of thinking out rather slowly and
awkwardly it might be just what they ought to do, and then doing it or
dying in the effort which made it very disastrous for whoever stood in
their way. Those who knew them best much preferred to be along with them
rather than against them when they set their square-cornered heads upon
accomplishing some object.

Si might be wet, hungry, and the morass of mud in which the army was
wallowing uncomfortable and discouraging to the last degree, but there
was not the slightest thought in his mind of giving up the fight as long
as there was a rebel in sight. He and Shorty were not hurt yet, and
until they were, the army was still in good fighting trim.

The line of the 200th Ind. was mournfully shorter than it was two days
before, but there were still several hundred boys of Si's stamp gathered
resolutely97 around its flag, the game little Colonel's voice rang out
as sharply as ever, and the way the boys picked up their guns and got
into line whenever a sputter of firing broke out anywhere must have been
very discouraging to Gen. Bragg and his officers, who were anxiously
watching the Union lines through their glasses for signs of
demoralization and retreat.

"We licked 'em yesterday, every time they come up squarely in front o'
the 200th Ind.," Si said to Shorty and those who stood around gazing
anxiously on the masses of brown men on the other side of the field. "We
can do it again, every time. The only way they got away with us was by
sneakin' around through the cedars and takin' us in the rear. We're out
in the open ground now, an' they can't get around our flanks." And he
looked to the extreme right, where every knoll was crowned with a
battery of frowning guns.

"They got their bellies full o' fightin' yesterday," added Shorty,
studying the array judicially. "They hain't none o' the brashness they
showed yesterday mornin', when they were jumpin' us in front, right,
left and rear at the same minute. They're very backward about comin'
forward acrost them fields for us to-day. I only wish they'd try it on."

But the forenoon wore away without the rebels showing any disposition to
make an assault across the muddy fields. Si's vigilant appetite took
advantage of the quiet to assert its claims imperiously.

"Shorty," said he, "there must be something to eat somewhere around
here. I'm goin' to look for it."

"You'll have just about as much chance of findin' it," said Shorty
dolefully, "among that mob o' 98famished Suckers as you would o' findin'
a straw-stack in the infernal regions. But I'll go 'long with you. We
can't lose the regiment in the day time."

"By the way, Shorty," said Si, happening to glance at the sleeves of the
overcoats which he had picked up, "we both seem to be Sergeants."

"That's so," assented Shorty. "Both these are Sergeant's overcoats.
We'll take our guns along, and play that we are on duty. It may help us
out somewhere."

Things looked so quiet in front that the Captain gave them permission,
and off they started. It seemed a hopeless quest. Everywhere men were
ravenous for food. They found one squad toasting on their rammers the
pieces of a luckless rabbit they had cornered in a patch of briars.
Another was digging away at a hole that they alleged contained a
woodchuck. A third was parching some corn found in a thrown-away feed
box, and congratulating themselves upon the lucky find.

Finally they came out upon the banks of Stone River at the place to
which Si had wandered during the night. Si recognized it at once, and
also the voices that came from behind a little thicket of paw paws as
those of the men with whom he had had the squabble.

Si motioned to Shorty to stop and keep silent, while he stepped up
closer, parted the bushes a little, looked through, and listened.

Two men were standing by a fire, which was concealed from the army by
the paw-paws. Four others had just come up, carrying rolled in a blanket
what seemed to be a dead body. They flung it down99 by the fire, with
exclamations of relief, and unrolled it. It was the carcass of a pig so
recently killed that it was still bleeding.

"Hello," exclaimed the others joyfully; "where did you get that?"

"Why," exclaimed one of the others, "we were poking around down there
under the bank, and we happened to spy a nigger cabin on the other side
of the river, hid in among the willers, where nobody could see it. We
thought there might be something over there, so we waded across. There
wasn't any thing to speak of in the cabin, but we found this pig in the
pen. Jim bayoneted it, and then we wrapped it up in our blanket, as if
we wuz taking a boy back to the Surgeon's, and fetched it along. We
couldn't 've got a hundred yards through that crowd if they'd dreamed
what we had. Jerusalem, but it was heavy, though. We thought that pig
weighed a thousand pounds before we got here."

"Bully boys," said the others gleefully. "We'll have enough to eat, no
matter how many wagons the rebels burn. I always enjoyed a dinner of
fresh pork more on New Year's Day than any other time."

Si turned and gave Shorty a wink that conveyed more to that observant
individual than a long telegram would have done. He winked back
approvingly, brought up his gun to a severely regulation "carry arms,"
and he and Si stepped briskly through the brush to the startled squad.

"Here," said Si, with official severity; "you infernal stragglers, what
regiments do you belong to? Sneaking out here, are you, and stealin'
hogs instead of being with your companies. Wrap that pig up100 again,
pick it up, and come along with us to Headquarters."

For a minute it looked as if the men would fight. But Si had guessed
rightly; they were stragglers, and had the cowardice of guilty
consciences. They saw the chevrons on Si's arms, and his positive,
commanding air finished them. They groaned, wrapped up the pig again,
and Si mercifully made the two who had waited by the fire carry the
heaviest part.

Si started them back toward the 200th Ind., and he and Shorty walked
along close to them, maintaining a proper provost-guard-like severity of
countenance and carriage.

The men began to try to beg off, and make advances on the basis of
sharing the pork. But Si and Shorty's official integrity was
incorruptible.

"Shut up and go on," they would reply to every proposition. "We ain't
that kind of soldiers. Our duty's to take you to Headquarters, and to
Headquarters you are going."

They threaded through the crowds for some time, and as they were at last
nearing the regiment a battery of artillery went by at as near a trot as
it could get out of the weary horses in that deep mire. The squad took
advantage of the confusion to drop their burden and scurry out of sight
in the throng.

"All right; let 'em go," grinned Si. "I wuz jest wonderin' how we'd get
rid o' 'em. I'd thought o' takin' them into the regiment and then givin'
them a chunk o' their pork, but then I'd get mad at the way they talked
about the 200th Ind. last night, and want to stop and lick 'em. It's
better as it is. We need all that pig for the boys."101

Si and Shorty picked up the bundle and carried it up to the regiment.
When they unrolled it the boys gave such lusty cheers that the rebels
beyond the field rushed to arms, expecting a charge, and one of our
impulsive cannoneers let fly a shell at them.

Si and Shorty cut off one ham for themselves and their particular
cronies, carried the other ham, with their compliments, to the Colonel,
and let the rest be divided up among the regiment.

One of their chums was lucky enough to have saved a tin box of salt, and
after they had toasted and devoured large slices of the fresh ham they
began to feel like new men, and be anxious for some thing farther to
happen.

But the gloomy, anxious day dragged its slow length along with nothing
more momentous than fitful bursts of bickering, spiteful firing,
breaking out from time to time on different parts of the long line,
where the men's nerves got wrought up to the point where they had to do
something to get the relief of action.

Away out in front of the regiment ran a little creek, skirting the hill
on which the rebels were massed. In the field between the hill and the
creek was one of our wagons, which had mired there and been abandoned by
the driver in the stampede of the day before. It seemed out of easy
rifle-shot of the rebels on the hill.

Si had been watching it for some time. At length he said:

"Shorty, I believe that wagon's loaded with hard tack."

"It's certainly a Commissary wagon," said Shorty, after studying it a
little.102

"Yes, I'm sure that it's one o' them wagons we was guardin', and I
recollect it was loaded with hard tack."

The mere mention of the much-abused crackers made both their mouths
water.

"Seems to me I recognize the wagon, too," said Shorty.

"Shorty, it'd be a great thing if we could sneak along up the creek,
behind them bushes, until we come opposite the wagon, then make, a rush
acrost the field, snatch up a box o' hardtack apiece, and then run back.
We'd get enough to give each o' the boys a cracker apiece. The wagon'd
shelter us comin' and goin', and we wouldn't get a shot."

"It might be," said Shorty, with visions of distributing hardtack to the
hungry boys warping his judgment. "The fellers right back o' the wagon
couldn't shoot to any advantage, and them to the right and left are too
fur off. If you say so, it's a go."

"If the boys could only have one hardtack apiece," said Si, as his last
hesitation vanished, "they'd feel ever so much better, and be in so much
better shape for a fight. Come on, let's try it."

The rest overheard their plan, and began to watch them with eager
interest. They made a circle to the right, got into the cover of the
brush of the creek, and began making their way slowly and carefully up
to a point opposite the wagon. They reached this without attracting
notice, parted the bushes in front of them carefully, and took a good
survey of the wagon and the hill beyond.

The wagon was a great deal nearer the hill than had appeared to be the
case from where the103 regiment lay, and even where they stood they were
in easy range of the rebels on the hill. But the latter were utterly
unsuspicious of them. They were crouching down around fires, with their
guns stacked, and the cannoneers of a couple of guns were at some
distance from their pieces, under a brush shelter, before which a fire
smoldered in the rain.

"It's awful short range," said Si dubiously. "If they were lookin'
they'd tear us and the wagon all to pieces. But our boys is a-watchin'
us, and I don't want to go back without a shy at it. Them fellers seem
so busy tryin' to keep warm that we may get there without their noticin'
us."

"I never wanted hardtack so much in my life as I do this minute," said
Shorty. "I don't care to live forever, anyway. Let's chance it."

They pulled off their overcoats, carefully tied up their shoes, shifted
around so as to be completely behind the wagon, and then started on a
rush through the mud.

For several hundred steps nothing happened, and they began to believe
that they would reach the wagon unnoticed. Then a few shots rang out
over their heads, followed a minute later by a storm of bullets that
struck in the mud and against the wagon. But they reached the wagon, and
sat down, exhausted, on the tongue, sidling up close to the bed to
protect them from the bullets.

Si recovered his breath first, caught hold of the front board and raised
himself up, saw the boxes of coveted hardtack, and was just putting his
hand on one of them when a shell struck the rear end and tore the canvas
cover off. Si sank back again104 beside Shorty, when another shell burst
under the wagon, and filled the air with pieces of wheels, bed, cracker-
boxes and hardtack.

"I don't want no hardtack; I want to find the bank o' that crick,"
yelled Shorty, starting back on the jump, with Si just six inches
behind.

The bullets spattered in the mud all around them as they ran, but they
reached the creek bank with out being struck. They were in such a hurry
that they did not stop to jump, but fell headlong into the water.

"Them hardtack wuz spiled, anyway," said Shorty, as they fished
themselves out, found their overcoats, and made their way back to the
regiment.

They received the congratulations of their comrades on their escape, and
someone fished out all the consolation that the regiment could offer a
couple of brierwood pipes filled with fragrant kinnikinnick. They sat
down, smoked these, and tried to forget their troubles.

The cheerless night drew on. No fires were allowed, and the men huddled
together on the wet ground, to get what comfort they could from the
warmth of each other's bodies.

The temper of the rebels became nastier as the day wore away, and under
the cover of the dark ness they pushed out here and there and opened
worrying fires on the Union line. Suddenly a battery opened up on the
200th Ind. from a bare knoll in front. The rebels had evidently
calculated the range during daylight, and the shells struck around them
in the most annoying way. They threw up showers of mud, scattered the
groups, and kept105 everybody nervous and alarmed. The regiment stood
this for some time, when an idea occurred to Si and Shorty. They went up
to the Colonel and explained:

"Colonel, we've studied the ground out there purty carefully, and we
know that the knoll where that battery is is in close range o' that
crick where we went up this afternoon. If you'll let a few of us go out
there we kin stop them cannoneers mighty soon."

"Sure of that?" said the Colonel alertly.

"Dead sure."

"Very well, then," said the Colonel promptly. "I've been thinking of the
same thing. I'll take the whole regiment out. Put yourselves at the
head, and lead the way."

The regiment was only too eager for the movement. It marched rapidly
after Si and Shorty up the creek bed, and in a very few minutes found
itself on the flank of the obnoxious battery, which was still banging
away into the line which the 200th Ind. had occupied. It was scarcely
200 yards away, and the men's hearts burned with a fierce joy at the
prospect of vengeance. With whispered orders the Colonel lined up the
regiment carefully on the bank, and waited until the battery should fire
again, to make sure of the aim. Every man cocked his gun, took good aim,
and waited for the order. They could distinctly hear the orders of the
battery officers directing the shelling. Three cannon were fired at
once, and as their fierce lights flashed out the Colonel gave the order
to fire. A terrible simoon of death from the rifles of the 200th Ind.
struck down everything in and around the battery.

"That dog's cured o' suckin' aigs," said Shorty, as the Colonel ordered
the regiment to about face and march back.

The 200th Ind. heard no more from that battery that night.



CHAPTER IX. VICTORY AT LAST SI REAPPEARS AS FROM THE GRAVE, WITH AN
APPETITE LIKE PRAIRIE FIRE.

ON THEIR way back from "settling the battery," Si and Shorty each broke
off a big armful of cedar branches. These they spread down on the ground
when the regiment resumed its place in the line-of-battle, and lay down
on them to spend the rest of the night as comfortably as possible. The
fire with which they had roasted the pig, and from which they had drawn
much comfort during the day, had had to be extinguished when darkness
came on. But it had dried out and warmed the ground for a considerable
space around, and on this they made their bed.

"We seem to play in fair luck right along, Shorty," said the hopeful Si,
as they curled up on the boughs. "Most of the boys 've got to lay down
in a foot of mud."

"Don't get to crowin' too loud," grumbled Shorty. "If they find out what
a good thing we have, some Jigadier-Brindle'll snatch it away for
himself." But Si was fast asleep before Shorty finished speaking.

Sometime before midnight the Orderly-Sergeant came around, and after
vigorous kicking and shaking, succeeded in waking them.

"Get up," he said, "and draw some rations. The wagons've got in from
Nashville."108

"My gracious!" said Si, as soon as he was wide enough awake to
understand the Orderly-Sergeant's words, "is it possible that we're
going to have plenty of hardtack and pork and coffee again? Seems to me
a hundred years since we drew a full ration."

He and Shorty jumped up and ran over to where the Quartermaster-Sergeant
and his assistants were dealing out a handful of crackers and a piece of
pork to each man as he came up.

"Mebbe I oughtn't to say it," said Si, as he munched away, taking a bite
first off the crackers in his right and then off the meat in his left,
"but nothing that ever mother baked tasted quite as good as this."

"This does seem to be a specially good lot," assented Shorty. "Probably
a wagon load that they intended for the officers and give us by mistake.
Better eat it all up before they find it out."

The morning of Jan. 2, 1863, dawned bleak and chill, but this at least
brought the great comfort that the dreary rain was at last over. The
sharp air was bracing, and put new life and hope into the hearts of the
Union soldiers. Many wagons had been gotten up during the night,
bringing food and ammunition for all. Soon after daylight cheerful fires
were blazing everywhere, and the morning air was laden with the
appetizing fragrance of boiling coffee and broiling meat. The sun began
to rise over Murfreesboro' and the rebel camps, giving promise of a
bright, invigorating day.

"I hope this thing'll be brought to a focus to-day, and the question
settled as to who shall occupy this piece of real estate," said Shorty,
as he and Si109 finished a generous breakfast, filled their boxes and
pockets with cartridges, and began knocking the dried mud off their
clothes and rubbing the rust from their guns. "I want them gents in
brown clothes to clear out and leave. It frets me to see them hangin'
'round. They're bad neighbors."

"I hope," said Si, carefully picking out the tube of his gun with a pin,
"we won't put in to-day as we did yesterday layin' 'round making faces
an' shakin' our fists at one another. Let's have the thing out at once."

Evidently the rebels were of the same frame of mind. They saluted the
dawn with a noisy fusillade that ran along the miles of winding line. It
was spiteful, crashing and persistent, but as the Union lines lay beyond
good musket range and the rebels showed no disposition to advance across
the fields and come to close quarters, the noise was quite out of
proportion to the harm done.

The two rebel batteries on the opposite side of the river opened up a
terrific fire upon one of our batteries, and the air seemed torn to
shreds by the storm of howling missiles.

The 200th Ind. was too far away to have more than a spectacular interest
in this tempestuous episode. They stood around their gun-stacks and
watched and listened while the hours passed in ineffective noise, and
wondered when the crisis of action was going to arrive.

"They seem to have lost their appetite for close acquaintance with the
200th Ind.," remarked Shorty. "They found that Jordan was a hard road to
travel whenever they came across the fields at us, and are110 tryin' to
scare us by makin' a racket. I think we kin stand it as long as their
powder kin. But I'm gittin' hungry agin. Let's have somethin' to eat."

"Good gracious, it is noon," answered Si, looking up at the sun. "I
believe I do want some dinner."

They had scarcely finished dinner-eating when the 200th Ind. was ordered
to move over toward Stone River. It halted on a little rise of ground on
the bank, which commanded an extensive view on both sides of the river.
There was a portentous flow in the great, dark-blue sea of men. The
billows, crested with shining steel, were rolling eastward toward the
river.

"Something's goin' to happen; meetin's about to break up; school's goin'
to let out," said Shorty eagerly. "Isn't it a grand sight."

"Gracious me!" said Si, devouring the spectacle with his eyes. "How I
wish that father and mother and sister could see all this. It's worth
going through a great deal to see this."

It was by far the most imposing spectacle they had yet seen. The whole
Army of the Cumberland was crowded into the narrow space between the
Nashville Pike and Stone River. Its compact regiments, brigades, and
divisions showed none of the tearing and mangling they had endured, but
stood or moved in well-dressed ranks that seemed the embodiment of
mighty purpose and resistless force.

Around its grand array, a half mile away, lay the somber, portentous
line of brown-clad men. Beyond them rose the steeples and roofs of the
sleepy old town of Murfreesboro', with crowds of men and women occupying
every point of vantage, to witness the renewal of the awful battle.111

It was now long past noon. The bright sun had long ago scattered the
chill mists of the morning, and radiated warmth and light over the dun
landscape. Even the somber cedars lost some of the funereal gloom they
wore when the skies were lowering.

"There go two brigades across the river," said Si. "We're goin' to try
to turn their right."

They saw a long line of men file down the river bank, cross, and go into
line on the high ground beyond. Their appearance seemed to stir the
brown mass lying on the hights a mile in front of them to action. The
rebels began swarming out of their works and moving forward into the
woods.

Presently a thin line of men in butternut-colored clothes ran forward to
a fence in front, and began throwing it down. Behind them came three
long, brown lines, extending from near the river to the woods far away
to the left. Batteries galloped in the intervals to knolls, on which
they unlimbered and opened fire.

It was an overpowering mass of men for the two little brigades to
resist. Si's heart almost stood still as he saw the inequality of the
contest.

"Why don't they send us over there to help those men?" he anxiously
asked. "They can't stand up against that awful crowd."

"Just wait," said Shorty hopefully. "Old Rosy knows what he's doin'.
He's got enough here for the business."

The artillery all along the line burst out in torrents of shells, but
Si's eyes were glued on the two little brigades. He saw the white spurts
from the skirmishers' rifles, and men drop among the rebels,112 who yet
moved slowly forward, like some all-engulfing torrent. The skirmishers
ran back to the main line, and along its front sped a burst of smoke as
each regiment fired by volley. The foremost rebel line quivered a
little, but moved steadily on.

Then a cloud of white smoke hid both Union and rebel lines, and from it
came the sound as of thousands of carpenters hammering away
industriously at nails.

Presently Si was agonized to see a fringe of blue break back from the
bank of smoke, and run rapidly to the rear. They were followed by
regiments falling back slowly, in order, and turning at the word of
command to deliver volleys in the faces of their yell ing pursuers.

Si looked at his Colonel, and saw him anxiously watching the brigade
commander for orders to rush across the river to the assistance of the
two brigades.

Suddenly there was a whirl in front. A battery galloped up, the drivers
lashing the horses, the cannoneers sitting stolidly on the limbers with
their arms folded. It swept by to a knoll in front and to the right,
which commanded the other side of the river. Instantly the gunners
sprang to the ground, the cannon were tossed about as if they were play
things, and before Si could fairly wink he saw the guns lined up on the
bank, the drivers standing by the horses' heads, and the cannons
belching savagely into the flanks of the horde of rebels.

Then another battery swept up alongside the first, and another, until 58
guns crowned the high banks and thundered until the earth shook as with
the ague. A deluge of iron swept the fields where the mighty113 host of
rebels were advancing. Tops were torn out of trees and fell with a
crash, fence-rails and limbs of oak went madly flying through the air,
regiments and brigades disappeared before the awful blast.

For a few minutes Si and Shorty stood appalled at the deafening crash
and the shocking destruction. Then they saw the rebels reel and fly
before the tornado of death.114

A great shout arose from thousands of excited men standing near.
Regiments and brigades started as with one impulse to rush across the
river and pursue the flying enemy. The 200th Ind. was one of these. No
one heard any orders from the officers. The men caught the contagion of
victory and rushed forward, sweeping with them the lately-defeated
brigades, hurrying over the wreckage of the cannon-fire, over the
thickly-strewn dead and wounded, and gathering in prisoners, flags and
cannon.

They went on so, nearly to the breastworks behind which the rebels were
seeking shelter.

Si and Shorty were among the foremost. A few hundred yards from the
rebel works Si fell to the ground without a groan. Shorty saw him, and
ran to him. The side of his head was covered with blood, and he was
motionless.

Si Klegg Fell Without a Groan 113

"Stone dead\x97bullet plum through his head," said the agonized Shorty. But
there was no time for mourning the fallen. The pursuit was still hot,
and Shorty's duty was in front. He ran ahead until the Colonel halted
the regiment. Fresh rebels were lining up in the breastworks and
threatening a return charge which would be disastrous. The Colonel
hastily re-formed the regiment to meet this, and slowly withdrew it in
good order to resist any counter-attack. After marching a mile or more
the regiment halted and went into bivouac. The rejoicing men started
great fires and set about getting supper. But the saddened Shorty had no
heart for rejoicing over the victory, or for supper. He drew off from
the rest, sat down at the roots of an oak, wrapped the cape of his
overcoat about his face, and115 abandoned himself to his bitter grief.
Earth had no more joy for him. He wished he had been shot at the same
time his partner was. He could think of nothing but that poor boy lying
there dead and motionless on the cold ground. He felt that he could
never think of anything else, and the sooner he was shot the better it
would be.

The other boys respected his grief At first they tried to tempt him to
eat something and drink some coffee, but Shorty would not listen to
them, and they drew away, that he might be alone.

He sat thus for some hours. The loss of their sturdy Corporal saddened
the whole company, and as they sat around their fires after supper they
ex tolled his good traits, recounted his exploits, and easily made him
out the best soldier in the regiment.

Presently the fifes and rums played tattoo, and the boys began
preparations for turning in.

Shorty had become nearly frozen sitting there motionless, and he got up
and went to the fire to thaw out. He had just picked up a rail to lay it
on the fire in better shape, when he heard a weak voice in quiring:

"Does anybody know where the 200th Ind. is?"

Shorty dropped the rail as if he had been shot, and rushed in the
direction of the voice. In an instant he came back almost carrying Si
Klegg.

There was a hubbub around the fire that kept everybody from paying the
least attention to "taps."

"Yes, it's really me," said Si, responding as well as he was able to the
hearty handshakings. "And I ain't no ghost, neither. I've got an
appetite on me like a prairie fire, and if you fellers are really
glad116 to see me you'll hustle up here all the grub in the Commissary
Department. I can eat every mite of it. I was hit by a spent ball and
knocked senseless. But I ain't going to tell you any more till I get
something to eat."

118



CHAPTER X. THE VICTORIOUS ARMY SI AND SHORTY FINALLY SUCCEED IN GETTING
OUT OF THE WET.

THE BOYS were so glad to see Si back again alive that they robbed
themselves of any choice morsel of food they might have saved for to-
morrow's delectation.

"Here, Si," said one, "is a nice knuckle-bone o' ham, that I pulled back
there at the General's when his cook returned to the tent for something.
You ought t've heard the nigger cussing as I walked away, but he
couldn't recognize the back o' my head, nor see under my overcoat. Me
and my chum 've had supper off it, and we wuz saving the rest for
breakfast, but I'll brile it for you."

"Some of them Kentucky fellers," said another, "found a sheep in the
briars and killed it. I traded 'em my silk handkerchief for a hunk o'
the meat. I'm going to cook a slice for you, Si."

"Si, I'll bile some coffee for you," said a third.

"I'll toast some crackers for you," added a fourth.

Shorty roused. He felt so much gladder than any of them, that he was
jealous of their attentions.

"See here, you fellers," said he, "this is my partner, an' I'm able to
take care of him. I'll bile all the coffee an' toast all the crackers he
kin eat; though I'm much obliged to you, Jim, for your ham, and to you,
Billy, for your mutton, though I'm afraid it'll taste too much of the
wool for a wounded man."

"Don't mind about that," said Si; "I'm hungry enough to eat the wool on
the sheep's back, even. Hand over your mutton, Billy, and thankee for
it. My appetite's not delicate, I can tell you. Woolly mutton won't faze
it more'n bark would a buzz-saw." Si didn't over-state the case. He ate
everything119 that was cooked and offered him, until he declared that he
was so full he "could touch it with his finger."

Shorty Thinks si Does Not Look Like a Ghost. 118

"I'm sure you're not a ghost, from the way you eat," said Shorty, who
was beginning to recover his propensity for sarcasm. "If ghosts et like
you there'd have to be a steam bakery an' a pork packery run in
connection with every graveyard."

"And I'd never take no ghost to board," said Billy.

"Come, Si," said Jimmy Barlow, filling his briarwood pipe with
kinnikinnick, lighting it from the fire, taking a few puffs to start it,
and handing it to Si, "tell us just what happened to you. We're dyin' to
hear."

"Well," said Si, settling down with the pipe into a comfortable
position, "I don't know what happened. Last thing I knowed I wuz runnin'
ahead on Shorty's left, loadin' my gun, an' tryin' to keep up with the
Colonel's hoss. Next thing I knowed I wuz wakin' up at the foot of a
black-oak. Everything was quiet around me, except the yellin' of two or
three wounded men a little ways off. At first I thought a cannonball' d
knocked my whole head off. Then it occurred to me that if my head was
knocked off I couldn't hear nor see."

"Nor think, even," injected Shorty.

"No, nor think, even. For what'd you think with?"

"I know some fellers that seem to think with their feet, and that blamed
awkwardly," mused Shorty.

"I kept on wakin' up," continued Si. "At first I thought I had no head
at all, an' then it seemed to me I was all head, it hurt so awfully. I
couldn't move hand nor foot. Then I thought mebbe only half my head was
shot away, an' the rest was aching for all.120

"I tried shuttin' one eye an' then the other, an' found I'd at least
both eyes left. I moved my head a little, an' found that the back part
was still there, for a bump on the roots of the oak hurt it.

"By-and-by the numbness began to go out of my head an' arm, but I was
afraid to put my hand up to my head, for I was afraid to find out how
much was gone. Nearly the whole of the left side must be gone, an' all
my schoolin' scattered over the ground. I lay there thinkin' it all over
how awful I'd look when you fellers came to find me and bury me, an' how
you wouldn't dare tell the folks at home about it.

"Finally, I got plum desperate. I didn't seem to be dyin', but to be
gettin' better every minute. I determined to find out just however much
of my head was really gone. I put up my hand, timid-like, an' felt my
forehead. It was all there. I passed my hand back over my hair an' the
whole back of my head was there. I felt around carefully, an' there was
the whole side of my head, only a little wet where I'd got a spent ball.
Then I got mad an' I jumped up. Think of my makin' all that fuss over a
little peck that might have been made by a brick-bat. I started out to
hunt you fellers, an' here I am."

"Yes, but you wouldn't 've bin here," philosophized Shorty, examining
the wound, "if the feller that fired that shot'd given his gun a little
hunch. If that bullet'd went a half-inch deeper, you'd be up among the
stars a bow-legged Wabash angel."

"Well, we've licked the stuffin' out of 'em at last, haven't we?" asked
Si.

"Well, I should say we had," replied Shorty with an impressive whistle.
"I thought the artillery would121 tear the foundations out of the whole
State of Tennessee, the way it let into them. There won't ba more
crashin' an' bangin' when the world breaks up. I'd a-bin willin' to
serve 100 years just to see that sight. Lord, what a chance the
cannoneers had. First time I ever wanted to be in the artillery. The way
they slung whole blacksmith shops over into them woods, an' smashed down
trees, and wiped out whole brigades at a clip, filled my soul with joy."

"We must go over there in the mornin' an' take a look at the place,"
said Si drowsily. "It will be good to remember alongside o' the way they
slapped it to us the first day."

Si and Shorty woke up the next morning to find the chill rain pouring
down as if the country had been suffering from a year's drouth, and the
rain was going to make up for it in one forenoon.

"Lord have mercy," said the disgusted Shorty, as he fell into line for
roll-call. "Another seepin', soppin', sloshin', spatterin' day. Only had
14 of 'em this week so far. Should think the geese 'd carry umbrellas,
an' the cows wear overshoes in this, land of eternal drizzle. If I ever
get home they'll have to run me through a brick-kiln to dry me out."

In spite of the down-pour the army was forming up rapidly to resume the
advance upon Murfreesboro', and over the ground on the left, that had
proved so disastrous to the rebels the day before.

While the 200th Ind. was getting ready to fall in, the sick-call
sounded, and the Orderly-Sergeant remarked to Si:

"Fall into this squad, Corporal Klegg."

"What for?" asked Si, looking askance at the squad.122

"To go to the Surgeon's tent," answered the Orderly-Sergeant. "This is
the sick squad."

"That's what I thought," answered Si; "an' that's the reason I ain't
goin' to join it."

"But your head's bigger'n a bushel, Si," remonstrated the Sergeant.
"Better let the doctor see it."

"I don't want none of his bluemass or quinine," persisted Si. "That's
all he ever gives for anything. The swellin' 'll come out o' my head in
time, same as it does out o' other people's."

"Corporal, I'll excuse you from duty to-day," said the Captain kindly.
"I really think you ought to go to the Surgeon."

"If you don't mind, Captain," said Si, saluting, "I'll stay with the
boys. I want to see this thing to the end. My head won't hurt me half so
bad as if I was back gruntin' 'round in the hospital."

"Probably you are right," said the Captain. "Come along, then."

Willing and brave as the men were, the movements were tiresomely slow
and laggard. The week of marching and lying unsheltered in the rain, of
terrific fighting, and of awful anxiety had brought about mental and
physical exhaustion. The men were utterly worn out in body and mind.
This is usually the case in every great battle. Both sides struggle with
all their mental and physical powers, until both are worn out. The one
that can make just a little more effort than the other wins the victory.
This was emphatically so in the battle of Stone River. The rebels had
exhausted themselves, even, more in their assaults than the Union men
had in repelling them.

When, therefore, the long line of blue labored123 slowly through the mud
and the drenching rain up the gentle slopes on the farther side of Stone
River, the rebels sullenly gave ground before them. At last a point was
reached which commanded a view of Murfreesboro' and the rebel position.
The rebels were seen to be in retreat, and the exhausted Army of the
Cumberland was mighty glad to have them go.

As soon as it was certain that the enemy was really abandoning the
bitterly-contested field, an inexpressible weariness overwhelmed
everybody. The 200th Ind. could scarcely drag one foot after another as
it moved back to find a suitable camping-ground.

Si and Shorty crawled into a cedar thicket, broke down some brush for a
bed, laid a pole in two crotches, leaned some brush against it to make a
par tial shelter, built a fire, and sat down.

"I declare, I never knew what being tuckered out was before," said Si.
"And it's come to me all of a sudden. This morning I felt as if I could
do great things, but the minute I found that them rebels was really
going, my legs begun to sink under me."

"Same way with me," accorded Shorty. "Don't believe I've got strength
enough left to pull a settin' hen offen her nest. But we can't be
drowned out this way. We must fix up some better shelter."

"The Colonel says there's a wagon-load o' rations on the way here," said
Si, sinking wearily down on the ground by the fire, and putting out his
hands over the feeble blaze. "Let's wait till we git something to eat.
Mebbe we'll feel more like work after we've eaten something."

"Si Klegg," said Shorty sternly, but settling down himself on the other
side of the fire, "I never knowed124 you to flop down before. You've
always bin, if any thing, forwarder than me. I was in hopes now that
you'd take me by the back o' the neck and try to shake some o' this
laziness out o' me."

"Wait till the rations come," repeated Si listlessly. "Mebbe we'll fell
livelier then. The shelter we've fixed up'll keep out the coarsest o'
the rain, anyway. Most o' the boys ain't got none."

When the rations arrived, Si and Shorty had energy enough to draw, cook
and devour an immense supper. Then they felt more tired than ever.
Shorty had managed to tear off a big piece of the wagon cover while he
was showing much zeal in getting the rations distributed quickly. He got
the company's share in this, and helped carry it to the company, but
never for a minute relaxed his hold on the coveted canvas. Then he took
it back to his fire. Si and he spent what energy they had left in making
a tolerable tent of it, by stretching it over their shelter. They tied
it down carefully, to keep anybody else from stealing it off them, and
Shorty took the additional precaution of fastening a strip of it around
his neck. Then they crawled in, and before night come on they were
sleeping apparently as soundly as the Seven of Ephesus.

126



CHAPTER XI. WINTER QUARTERS THEY BUILT THEM A HOUSE AND GOT IN OUT OF
THE RAIN.

THE NEXT day Sunday after the battle dawned as clear, bright and
sparkling as only a Winter's day can dawn in Tennessee, after a
fortnight of doleful deluges. Tennessee Winter weather is like the
famous little girl with the curl right down in the middle of her
forehead, who,

"When she was good, she was very, very good, And when she was bad, she
was horrid."

After weeks of heart-saddening down-pour that threatened to drench life
and hope out of every breathing thing, it will suddenly beam out in a
day so crisp and bright that all Nature will wear a gladsome smile and
life become jocund.

When the reveille and the Orderly-Sergeant's brogans aroused Si and
Shorty the latter's first thought was for the strip of canvas which he
had secured with so much trouble from the wagon-cover, and intended to
cherish for future emergencies. He felt his neck and found the strip
that he had tied there, but that was all that there was of it. A sharp
knife had cut away the rest so deftly that he had not felt its loss.

Shorty's boiler got very hot at once, and he began blowing off steam.
Somehow he had taken an especial fancy to that piece of canvas, and his
wrath was hot against the man who had stolen it.

Shorty Retaliates. 126

"Condemn that onery thief," he yelled. "He ought to be drummed out o'
camp, with his head shaved. A man that'll steal ought to be hunted down
and127 kicked out o' the army. He's not fit to associate with decent
men."

"Why, Shorty," said Si, amused at his partner's heat, "you stole that
yourself."

"I didn't nothin' o' the kind," snorted Shorty, "and don't want you
sayin' so, Mr. Klegg, if you don't want to git into trouble. I took it
from a teamster. You ought to know it's never stealin' to take anything
from a teamster. I'll bet it was some of that Toledo regiment that stole
it. Them Maumee River Muskrats are the durndest thieves in the brigade.
They'd steal the salt out o' your hardtack if you didn't watch 'em not
because they wanted the salt, but just because they can't help stealin'.
They ought to be fired out o' the brigade. I'm going over to their camp
to look for it, and if I find it I'll wipe the ground up with the feller
that took it. 'Taint so much the value of the thing as the principle. I
hate a thief above all things."

Si tried to calm Shorty and dissuade him from going, but his partner was
determined, and Si let him go, but kept an eye and ear open for
developments.

In a few minutes Shorty returned, with jubilation in his face, the
canvas in one hand and a nice frying-pan and a canteen of molasses in
the other.

"Just as I told you," he said triumphantly. "It was some o' them Maumee
River Muskrats. I found them asleep in a bunch o' cedars, with our nice
tent stretched over their thievin' carcasses. They'd been out on guard
or scoutin', and come in after we'd gone to sleep. They were still
snorin' away when I yanked the tent off, an' picked up their fryin'-pan
an' canteen o' molasses to remember 'em by."128

"I thought you hated a thief," Si started to say; but real comrades soon
learn, like husband and wife, that it is not necessary to say everything
that rises to their lips. Besides, the frying-pan was a beauty, and just
what they wanted.

It became generally understood during the day that the Army of the
Cumberland would remain around Murfreesboro' indefinitely probably until
Spring to rest, refit and prepare for another campaign. Instructions
were given to regimental commanders to select good camping ground and
have their men erect comfortable Winter quarters.

The 200th Ind. moved into an oak grove, on a gentle slope toward the
south, and set about making itself thoroughly at home.

Si and Shorty were prompt to improve the opportunity to house themselves
comfortably.

Si had now been long enough in the army to regard everything that was
not held down by a man with a gun and bayonet as legitimate capture. He
passed where one of the Pioneer Corps had laid down his ax for a minute
to help on some other work. That minute was spent by Si in walking away
with the ax hidden under his long overcoat. Those long overcoats, like
charity, covered a multitude of sins.

The ax was not sharp no army ax ever was, but Si's and Shorty's muscles
were vigorous enough to make up for its dullness. In a little while they
had cut down and trimmed enough oak saplings to make a pen about the
size of the corn-crib at Si's home. While one would whack away with the
ax the other would carry the poles and build up the pen. By129 evening
they had got this higher than their heads, and had to stop work from
sheer exhaustion.

"I'll declare," said Si, as they sat down to eat supper and survey their
work, "if father'd ever made me do half as much work in one day as I
have done to-day I should have died with tiredness and then run away
from home. It does seem to me that every day we try a new way o' killing
ourselves."

"Well," said Shorty, arresting a liberal chunk of fried pork on the way
to his capacious grinders to cast an admiring glance on the structure,
"it's worth it all. It'll just be the finest shebang in Tennessee when
we git it finished. I'm only afraid we'll make it so fine that Gen.
Rosecrans or the Governor of Tennessee 'll come down and take it away
for him self. That'd just be our luck."

"Great Scott!" said Si, looking at it with a groan; "how much work there
is to do yet. What are we goin' to do for a roof? Then, we must cut out
a place for a door. We'll have to chink between all the logs with mud
and chunks; and we ought to have a fireplace."

"I've bin thinkin' of all them things, and I've thunk 'em out," said
Shorty cheerfully. "I've bin thinkin' while you've bin workin'. Do you
know, I believe I was born for an architect, an' I'll go into the
architect business after the war! I've got a head plumb full of the
natural stuff for the business. It growed right there. All I need is
some more know-how an' makin' plans on paper."

"O, you've got a great big head, Shorty," said Si, admiringly, "and
whatever you start to do you do splendid. Nobody knows that better'n me.
But what's your idee about the roof?"130

"Why, do you see that there freight-car over there by the bridge"
(pointing to where a car was off the track, near Stone River), "I've bin
watchin' that ever since we begun buildin', for fear somebody else'd
drop on to it. The roof of that car is tin. We'll jest slip down there
with an ax after dark, an' cut off enough to make a splendid roof. I
always wanted a tin-roofed house. Old Jack Wilson, who lives near us,
had a tin roof on his barn, an' it made his daughters so proud they
wouldn't go home with me from meetin'. You kin write home that we have a
new house with a tin roof, an' it'll help your sisters to marry better."

"Shorty, that head o' your'n gits bigger every time I look at it."

Si and Shorty had the extreme quality of being able to forget fatigue
when there was something to be accomplished. As darkness settled down
they picked up the ax and proceeded across the fields to the freight-
car.

"There's someone in there," said Si, as they came close to it. They
reconnoitered it carefully. Five or six men, without arms, were
comfortably ensconed inside and playing cards by the light of a fire of
pitch-pine, which they had built upon some dirt placed in the middle of
the car.

"They're blamed skulkers," said Shorty, after a minute's survey of the
interior. "Don't you see they hain't got their guns with 'em? We won't
mind 'em."

They climbed to the top of the car, measured off about half of it, and
began cutting through the tin with the ax. The noise alarmed the men
inside. They jumped out on the ground, and called up:131

"Here, what're you fellers doin' up there? This is our car. Let it
alone."

"Go to the devil," said Shorty, making another slash at the roof with
the ax.

"This is our car, I tell you," reiterated the men. "You let it alone, or
we'll make you." Some of the men looked around for something to throw at
them.

Si walked to the end of the car, tore off the brake-wheel, and came
back.

"You fellers down there shut up and go back in side to your cards, if
you know what's good for you," he said. "You're nothing but a lot of
durned skulkers. We are here under orders. We don't want nothin' but a
piece o' the tin roof. You kin have the rest. If any of you attempts to
throw anything I'll mash him into the ground with this wheel. Do you
hear me? Go back inside, or we'll arrest the whole lot of you and take
you back to your regiments."

Si's authoritative tone, and the red stripes on his arm, were too much
for the guilty consciences of the skulkers, and they went back inside
the car. The tearing off the roof proceeded without further
interruption, but with considerable mangling of their hands by the edges
of the tin.

After they had gotten it off, they proceeded to roll it up and started
back for their "house." It was a fearful load, and one that they would
not have attempted to carry in ordinary times. But their blood was up;
they were determined to outshine everybody else with their tin roof, and
they toiled on over the mud and rough ground, although every132 little
while one of them would make a misstep and both would fall, and the
heavy weight would seem to mash them into the ground.

"I don't wonder old Jake Wilson was proud of his tin roof," gasped Si,
as he pulled himself out of a mudhole and rolled the tin off him and
Shorty. "If I'd a tin roof on my barn durned if my daughter should walk
home with a man that didn't own a whole section of bottom land and drove
o' mules to boot."

It was fully midnight before they reached their pen and laid their
burden down. They were too tired to do anything more than lay their
blankets down on a pile of cedar boughs and go to sleep.

The next morning they unrolled their booty and gloated over it. It would
make a perfect roof, and they felt it repaid all their toils. Upon
measurement they found it much larger each way than their log pen.

"Just right," said Shorty gleefully. "It'll stick out two feet all
around. It's the aristocratic, fashion able thing now-a-days to have
wide cornishes. Remember them swell houses we wuz lookin' at in
Louisville? We're right in style with them."

The rest of Co. Q gathered around to inspect it and envy them.

"I suppose you left some," said Jack Wilkinson. "I'll go down there and
get the rest."

"Much you won't," said Si, looking toward the car; "there ain't no
rest."

They all looked that way. Early as it was the car had totally
disappeared, down to the wheels, which some men were rolling away.133

"That must be some o' them Maumee River Muskrats," said Shorty, looking
at the latter. "They'll steal anything they kin git away with, just for
the sake of stealin'. What on earth kin they do with them wheels?"

"They may knock 'em off the axles an' make hearths for their fireplaces,
and use the axles for posts," suggested Si.

"Here, you fellers," said Shorty, "give us a lift. Let's have a house-
raisin'. Help us put the roof on."

They fell to with a will, even the Captain assisting, and, after a good
deal of trouble and more cut hands, succeeded in getting the piece of
tin on top of the pen and bent down across the ridge-pole. Si and Shorty
proceeded to secure it in place by putting other poles across it and
fastening them down with ropes and strips of bark to the lower logs.

"Your broad cornice is aristocratic, as you say," said the Captain, "but
I'm afraid it'll catch the wind, and tip your house over in some big
storm."

The House Beautiful. 133

"That's so," admitted Shorty; "but a feller that puts on airs always has
to take some chances. I don't want people to think that we are mean and
stingy about a little tin, so I guess we'll keep her just as she is."

The next day they borrowed a saw from the Pioneers, cut out a hole for
the door, and another for the fireplace. They made a frame for the door
out of pieces of cracker-boxes, and hung up their bit of canvas for a
door. They filled up the spaces be tween the logs with pieces of wood,
and then daubed clay on until they had the walls tight. They gathered up
stones and built a commodious fireplace, daubing it all over with clay,
until it was wind and water tight.

"What are we goin' to do for a chimney, Si?" said135 Shorty, as their
fireplace became about breast-high. "Build one o' sticks, like these
rebels around here? That'll be an awful lot o' work."

Solid Comfort. 135

"I've had an idee," said Si. "I ain't goin' to let136 you do all the
thinkin', even if you are a born architect. When I was helpin' draw
rations yesterday, I looked at the pork barrels, and got an idee that
one of them'd make a good chimney. I spoke to Bill Suggs, the
Commissary-Sergeant, about it, and he agreed to save me a barrel when it
was empty, which it must be about now. I'll go down and see him about
it."

Si presently came back rolling the empty barrel. They knocked the bottom
out, carefully plastered it over inside with clay, and set it up on
their fireplace, and made the joints with more clay. It made a splendid
chimney. They washed the clay off their hands, built a cheerful fire
inside, cooked a bountiful supper, and ate it in the light and comfort
of their own fireside. It was now Saturday night. They had had a week of
severer toil than they had ever dreamed of performing at home, but its
reward was ample.

"Ah," said Shorty, as he sat on a chunk of wood, pipe in mouth, and
absorbed the warmth, "this is something like home and home comforts.
It's more like white livin' than I've had since I've bin in the army.
Let's act like men and Christians tomorrow, by not doin' a lick o' work
o' any kind. Let's lay abed late, and then wash up all over, and go to
hear the Chaplain preach."

"Agreed," said Si, as he spread out their blankets for the night.

It had been threatening weather all day, and now the rain came down with
a rush.

"Ain't that music, now," said Shorty, listening to the patter on the
roof. "Nothin' sounds so sweet as137 rain upon a tin roof. Let it rain
cats and dogs, if it wants to. The harder the better. Si, there's
nothin' so healthy to sleep under as a tin roof. I'll never have
anything but a tin roof on my house when I git home. And we've got the
only tin roof in the regiment. Think o' that." But Si was too sleepy to
think.



CHAPTER XII. ADDING TO THEIR COMFORT MAKING ADDITIONS AND IMPROVEMENTS
TO THEIR "HOME."

SI AND Shorty kept Sunday as planned. They really did not know how tired
they were until they formed the resolution to give the day to absolute
restfulness. Then every joint and muscle ached from the arduous toil of
the past week, added to the strains and hardships of a week of battle.

"Used to seem to me," said Shorty, "that when Sunday come after the
first week's plowin' in Spring that I had a bile in every limb. Now I
appear to have one in every j'int, and in my brains as well. I didn't
ever suppose that I could be so tired, and yit be able to set up and
take nourishment."

"Same here," said Si. "Feel as if I ought to be wrapped in cotton
battin' an' sweet oil, an' laid away for awhile."

The only thing about them which did not show deadly lassitude was their
appetites. Fortunately, the Commissary took a liberal view of the
Regulations as to rations, issuing enough to make up for those they had
not drawn during the times when his department was not in working order.
They ate all these and wanted more.

'am I a Soldier of the Cross?' 139

The Quartermaster had also succeeded in re-establishing relations. They
drew from him new139 under-clothing to replace that which they had lost,
took a thorough wash the first good one they had had since Christmas
morning, beat and brushed much of the accumulated mud representing every
variety of140 soil between Murfreesboro' and Nashville out of their
clothes, cleaned and greased their heavy brogans, and went with their
comrades to divine service, feeling that they had made every provision
required for a proper observance of the holy day.

Si had a really fine baritone voice, and led the meeting in singing

"Am I a soldier of the cross?"

After church Shorty said:

"Si, when you were singing so loud about being a soldier of the cross
and a follower of the Lamb I wanted to git right up and tell you that
you'd have to git a transfer from the 200th Ind. We've lots of cross
soldiers, especially on mud marches, but we don't want any soldiers in
this regiment except for the Constitution of the United States and the
laws made in pursuance thereof, against all enemies and opposers
whatsoever, either foreign or domestic. An' as for follerin' the lamb,
you know as well as I do the orders agin foragin'."

"O, dry up, Shorty. I don't believe going to church done you a mite o'
good. I tell you it done me lots."

"There you're mistaken," answered Shorty. "It just done me lots o' good.
Kind o' restored communications with home and respectable folks once
more, an' made me think I still belonged to what the jographies call
civilized and partially-civilized people, something that we seem in
great danger o' forgettin', the way we've bin goin' on."

The good Chaplain's fervent appeals to devote the141 day to earnest
consideration of their soul's welfare could not keep them from spending
the hours in planning and discussing further improvements on the house.

"We must have a real door," said Shorty, looking critically at the strip
of canvas that did duty for that important adjunct. "Muslin looks
shiftless, an', besides, I think it's unhealthy. Lets in drafts, an'
will give us colds."

"Too bad about our ketchin' cold," said Si sardonically. "Most o' the
time lately we've bin sleepin' out with nothin' around us but the State
line of Tennessee."

"Don't be too flip, young man," said Shorty severely. "You have not had
a home with its blessin's long enough to appreciate it. I say we must
have a real door an' a winder that'll let in light, an' a bedstead, an'
a floor o' planks."

"We ought to have 'em, certainly," agreed Si. "But must have 'em is
quite another thing. How are we goin' to git 'em? There's 40,000 men
around here, snatchin' at every piece o' plank as big as your hand."

"Well," retorted Shorty, "we're goin' to have a real door, a winder, and
a plank floor, all the same. They're to be had somewhere in this
country, an' they'll have to run mighty hard to git away from us."

The next morning the Orderly-Sergeant said:

"Corp'l Klegg, you'll take five men, go down to the railroad, and report
to the Commissary to load the wagon with rations."

Si took Shorty and four others and started off on142 this errand. He was
soon so busy rolling heavy pork barrels from the car into the wagon that
he failed to notice that Shorty was not with him. Finally they got the
wagon loaded and started, with them walking alongside, puffing and
sweating from their vigorous labor.

They were not 100 yards away from the train, when the Conductor came
storming up:

"See here, Lieutenant," he said to the Commissary, "some o' them men o'
yours sneaked around and stole the hind door off my caboose while you
was loading up."

"I don't believe a word of it," said the Commissary, firing up at once.
"Mine ain't that kind of men. I'd have you know they don't steal. What
reason have you for saying so?"

"The door was on the car when I came out to meet you, and now it's gone,
and there's been no body near the caboose but your men."

"I know my men were working hard all the time right under my eyes," said
the Lieutenant, growing angrier every minute. "They're not the men to
steal anything, and if they were they didn't have any chance. They were
too busy. You can satisfy yourself that they didn't. You see none of
them have the door with them, and you can search the wagon. Get right in
there and look for it."

The Conductor climbed into the wagon and looked carefully through.

"No, it's not there," he said ruefully.

Then the Commissary's wrath flamed out. "There, confound you, you are at
it again, you infernal civilian, slandering and abusing men who are
fighting143 for their country. Charging them with stealing your old
caboose door. Think of your disgraceful impudence, villifying men who
are shedding their blood for their country by such shameless charges.144

Shorty Confiscates the Caboose Door. 143

"What'd they want with your old car door? Get away from here, before I
lose my temper and do you damage."

The Conductor walked away muttering:

"Blasted thieving whelps o' soldiers, what'll they steal next? Lost all
my train tools at Lavergne, swiped the bedding at Smyrna, got away with
our clothes and dishes at Antioch, stole stove and lanterns at Overall's
Crick, and now they've begun on the cars. I'll be lucky to have enough
wheels left on the engine to run her back to Nashville."

The Commissary continued to fume about the disgraceful charges brought
against his men until they reached camp. The wagon was unloaded and the
squad dismissed.

As Si came up to the "house" he saw Shorty busily engaged in hanging the
caboose door by means of hinges which he had improvised from some boot
tops.

"Why, Shorty," gasped Si, "how did you git away with it?"

"Easy enough," answered his partner. "I saw you fellers gittin' very
busy over them pork barrels, an' all the train hands helpin' you. I
meandered back to the caboose, gently lifted the back door offen its
hinges, slipped down into the weeds in the ditch, an' kept under cover
o' them till I was out o' sight. Say, isn't it just a bully door?"

That afternoon Si and Shorty walked over to where a detail of men were
at work building a bridge across Stone River, under the direction of a
Lieutenant of Pioneers. They had an idea that an opportunity might occur
there to pick up something that would add to their home comforts. The
Lieutenant was bustling about, hurrying the completion of the work
before night. As the detail was made up of squads from various
regiments, he was not acquainted with the men, and had much difficulty
assigning them to the work that would suit them best. He came up to Si,
who still wore the artillery Sergeant's overcoat he had picked up during
the battle, and said sharply:

"Here, Sergeant, don't stand around doing nothing. Set the men a good
example by pitching in lively. There's plenty to do for everybody. If
you can't find anything else, help dig down that bank, and roll those
big stones into the fill. Hold on; I've thought of something else. I
want a reliable man to send over for some lumber. Put one of your men on
that wagon there, and go with him, and take this letter to Capt.
Billings, over at the saw-mill. It's a requisition for a load of lumber.
Avoid the camps as much as possible on your way back, or they'll steal
every inch of it away from you."

"Very good, sir," said Si, saluting. "Shorty, jump on the wagon there,
and gather up the lines."

Shorty very obediently took his place on the seat of the two-horse wagon
employed by the Pioneers for their jobs.

"Hurry up," enjoined the Lieutenant; "we need those boards at once."

"Very good, sir," said Si, saluting.

"This is what I call a puddin'," said Shorty, oracularly, as they drove
away. "The Lord always kin be trusted to help the deservin', if the
deservin' only keep their eyes peeled for His p'inters. This146 comes
from not workin' yesterday and goin' to church."

They drove down to the sawmill, delivered their requisition, and had
their wagon loaded with newly-sawn plank. The Captain had the planks
carefully counted, the number and feet entered upon the record, and set
forth upon the return which he gave to Si to be delivered to the
Lieutenant of Pioneers.

"Too dod-gasted much bookkeepin' in this army," remarked Si, rather
disconsolately, and he put the paper in his blouse pocket, and they
drove away. "Wastes entirely too much valuable time. What'd he count
them boards for? Looked like he suspicioned us. How are we going to git
away with any o' them?"

"I wouldn't have that man's suspicious mind for anything," answered
Shorty. "He don't trust no body. All the same, we're goin' to have
enough boards for our floor."

"How are we goin' to manage it?" asked Si.

"Lots o' ways. There's no need o' your carryin' that paper back to the
Lootenant. I might pick up several hundred feet and sneak away without
your knowin' it. Say," as a bright idea struck him, "what's the use o'
goin' back to the Lootenant at all? Neither of us belongs to his detail.
He don't know us from a side o' sole-leather. What's the matter with
drivin' the wagon right up to camp, and swipin' the whole business,
horses, wagon and all?"

"I hain't been in the army as long as you have, Shorty," said Si
doubtfully. "I've made some progress in petty larceny, as you know, but
I ain't yit quite up to stealin' a span o' horses and a wagon.147 Mebbe
I'll come to it in time, but I ain't quite ready for it now."

"That comes from goin' to church yesterday, and hearin' the Chaplain
read the Ten Commandments," said Shorty wrathfully. "I don't believe
they ought to allow the Chaplains to read them things. They ain't suited
to army life, and there ought to be a general order that they're
prejudicial to good order and military discipline. Where'd the army be
if they obeyed that one about not covetin' a horse or other movable
property? I tell you what we'll do, since you're so milky on the thing:
We'll drive up in front of our house, unload enough boards for our
floor, you git out your gun and bayonet and stand guard over 'em, and
I'll drive the wagon down near the bridge, and jump off and leave it."

"All right," said Si; "that'll do splendidly, if you think you kin dodge
the Lootenant."

"O, he be darned," said Shorty scornfully. "I could git away from him if
I wasn't 10 years old."

They carried out the plan. They drove up in front of their residence,
and threw off a liberal quantity of the boards. The other boys raised a
yell, and made a break for them. But Si ran inside, got his gun, and
established himself on guard.

"Don't you budge an inch from there till I git back," shouted Shorty, as
he drove away. "Don't let one of Co. Q lay a finger on them. They're the
durndest thieves outside the Jeffersonville Penitentiary. You can't
trust one o' them farther than you could sling a bull by the tail. I'll
be back soon."

Shorty drove gaily down until he got close to the bridge. The Lieutenant
had been impatiently148 expecting him, and as soon as the wagon came up
it was surrounded by a crowd of men to unload it. The Lieutenant looked
over the load.

Si Defended the Plunder. 148

"I wonder if he sent enough. Let me see your return," he said, looking
up at the seat, where he expected to find the Sergeant he had put in
charge. But the seat was empty. Shorty had jumped down, prudently
mingled with the crowd, avoided the Lieutenant's eye with much more than
his usual diffidence, and was modestly making his way back to camp
behind a thicket of hazel bushes. When he got to the house he was
delighted to find Si still master of the situation, with all the boards
present and accounted for. They quickly transferred them to the
interior, and found that they had enough for a nice floor, besides a
couple of extra ones, to cut up into a table and stools.

"You done good work in keepin' the other boys offen 'em, Si," said he.
"I was afraid you wouldn't. The only thing I've got agin Co. Q is that
the boys will steal. Otherwise they're the nicest kind o' boys."

A couple of days later they got a pass to go down to Murfreesboro' and
look the sleepy old town over. They were particularly interested in the
quaint old courthouse, which had once been the capitol of Tennessee.
They happened into one of the offices, which was entirely deserted. On
the wall hung a steel engraving of Jeff Davis in a large oak frame.

"That blamed old rebel picture oughtn't to be hangin' there, Si,"
observed Shorty.

"Indeed it oughtn't. Jeff ought to be hung to a sour-apple tree, and
that glass'd make a nice winder for our house."

"Indeed it would," Shorty started to answer, but time was too precious
to waste in speech. In an instant he had shoved an old desk up to the
wall, mounted it, and handed the picture down to Si. They wrapped it up
in their overcoats, and started back for camp. They had seen enough of
Murfreesboro' for that day.



CHAPTER XIII. "HOOSIER'S REST" SI AND SHORTY CHRISTEN THEIR PLACE AND
GIVE A HOUSE-WARMING.

WITH a tin roof, a real door, a glazed window and a plank floor, Si and
Shorty's house was by far the most aristocratic in the cantonment of the
200th Ind., if not the entire Winter quarters of the Army of the
Cumberland. A marble mansion, with all the modern improvements, could
not more proudly overshadow all its neighbors than it did.

Even the Colonel's was no comparison to it. A tent-fly had been made to
do duty for a roof at the Colonel's. It could not be stretched evenly
and tight. It would persistently sag down in spots, and each of these
spots became a reservoir from which would descend an icy stream. A
blanket had to serve as a door, and the best substitute for window glass
were Commissary blanks greased with fat from headquarters' frying-pan.
The floor, instead of being of clean, new plank, as Si's and Shorty's,
was made of the warped and weather-beaten boards of a stable, which had
been torn down by a fatigue detail.

Si and Shorty took as much pride and pleasure in their architecture as
any nabob over his million-dollar villa. They were constantly on the
alert for anything that would add to the comfort and luxury151 of their
home. In their wanderings they chanced to come across an old-fashioned
bedstead in an out house. It was of the kind in which the rails screw
together, and the bed is held up by a strong cord crossing and
recrossing from one rail to another. This looked like real luxury, and
they at once appropriated it without any consultation with the owner,
whoever he may have been.

"It'd be a waste o' time, anyhow," remarked Shorty. "He's a rebel, and
probably over there in Bragg's army."

They made a tick out of the piece of wagon-cover, filled it with beech
leaves, and had a bed which surpassed their most extravagant ideas of
comfort in the army.

"Shorty," said Si, as they snugged themselves in the first night, "this
seems almost too much. Do you ever remember settin' the whole night on a
rail, with nothin' over us but clouds leakin' ice-water?"

"Shut up," said Shorty, giving him a kick under the blankets. "Do you
want me to have a night mare?"

They got a number of flat stones, and laid down a little pavement in
front of their door, and drove an old bayonet into the logs to serve as
a scraper. They rigorously insisted on every visitor using this before
entering.

"For common Wabash-bottom fly-up-the-cricks and private soljers, you're
puttin' on entirely too many frills," said Sol Murphy, the Wagonmaster,
angrily, as it was firmly insisted upon that he stay outside until he
carefully cleaned his shoes on the bayonet. "A man that's afraid o' mud
hain't no152 business in the army. He orter stay at home an' wear
Congress gaiters an' pantalets. You're puttin' on too many scollops, I
tell you. You knowed all 'bout mud in the Wabash bottoms. You had 'nuff
of it there, the Lord knows."

"Yes, we had," replied Shorty; "but we was too well raised to track it
into anybody's parlor."

"Parlor," echoed Sol, with a horse-laugh. "Lord, how fine we are, just
becaze one o' us happens to be a measly little Corporal. In some armies
the Wagonmasters have Corporals to wait on 'em an' black their boots.
Now, I'll tell yo' what I've come for. I've lost my scoop-shovel, an'
I've bin told that you fellers stole it, an' are usin' it to bake hoe-
cakes on. I've come up here to see if you've got it, an' I'm goin' right
in there to see for myself, mud or no mud."

"We hain't got your blamed old scoop-shovel; you can't git it; you ain't
goin' in there until you clean your feet, an' not then onless we
conclude to allow you," Shorty replied.

"I'm goin' in there, or break some Wabash loon's neck," said the
Wagonmaster wrathfully.

"I always did like to get a chance to lick a mule-whacker," said Si,
pulling off his overcoat. "And the bigger and the more consequential he
is, the better. I've never licked a Wagonmaster yit, an' I'm just achin'
for a chance."

The Wagonmaster was the bully of the regiment, as Wagonmasters generally
are. When Si came into the regiment, a green cub, just getting his
growth, and afraid of everybody who assumed a little authority and had
more knowledge of the world than he, the Wagonmaster had been very153
overbearing, and at times abusive. That is the way of Wagonmasters and
their ilk. The remembrance of this rankled in Si's mind.

On the other hand, the Wagonmaster failed to comprehend the change that
a few months of such service as the 200th Ind.'s wrought in verdant,
bashful boys like Si. He thought he could cow him as easily as he did
when Si had timidly ventured to ask His Greatness a modest question or
two as they were crossing the Ohio River. Wagonmasters were always
making just that kind of mistakes.

The other boys ran up to see the fun. The Wagonmaster made a rush for Si
with doubled fists, but Si quickly stepped to one side, and gave the
hulking fellow a tap on the butt of his ear that laid him over in the
mud. The other boys yelled with delight. Next to a Sutler, or a
conceited, fresh young Aid, the soldiers always delighted to see a
Wagonmaster get into trouble.

Si Floors the Wagonmaster. 154

The Wagonmaster sprang up, ready for another round; but the boys raised
the cry that the Officer of the Day was coming, and both Si and the
Wagonmaster remembered that they had business in other parts of the
camp.

The next day Shorty said: "It's all right, Si; we could've kept that
scoop-shovel as long as we wanted to, but I thought that for many
reasons it'd better be got out of the regiment, so I've traded it to
them Maumee Muskrats for a Dutch oven they'd borrowed from their Major."

"Bully," answered Si. "I'd much rather have the Dutch oven, anyway."

Si produced a piece of board, which had been154 painted white, and
evidently done duty as part of the door of a house in Murfreesboro',
looked at it critically, and then selected a piece of charcoal from the
fire, and sat down with an air of studious purpose. "What are you up to
now, Si?" asked Shorty curiously.

"Why," explained Si, "I've noticed, whenever we've bin in any big place,
that all the fine houses have signs or numbers, or something else onto
'em, to name 'em. I've bin thinkin' o' something for155 our house. How
does 'Hoosier's Rest' strike you for a name?"

"Splendid," said Shorty. "Couldn't be better."

"And," continued Si, "I've got this board to make a sign to nail up over
the door. Do you know how to spell Hoosier, Shorty?"

"Blest if I do," answered Shorty. "It wasn't in our book. At least, we
never got to it, if it was. You see our spellin'-school broke up just as
we got to 'incompatible.' The teacher got too fond o' Nancy Billings,
that I was castin' sheep's eyes at myself. He got to givin' her easy
words, to keep her at the head o' the class, and pickin' hard ones for
me, to send me to the foot, where I'd be fur away from her. I wouldn't
stand it always, so me an' him had it out one night before all the
scholars; I got away with him, and he left the country, and busted up
the school."

"Hoosier," repeated Si to himself. "I never saw it spelled. But there
must be some way to spell it. Let me see: 'W-h-o spells who.'"

"That's so," assented Shorty.

"I-s spells 'is,'" continued Si. "Who-is that's right so far. H-e-r-e
spells 'here.' 'Who-is-here?' That seems almost right, don't it,
Shorty?"

"It certainly does," replied Shorty, scratching his head to accelerate
his mental action. "Or it might be, Si, w-h-o, who; i-s, is; and y-e-r,
yer. You know some ignorant folks say yer for you. And they say the name
came from the people who first settled in Injianny sayin' 'Who's yer?'
to any new comer."

"I believe you're right, Shorty," said Si, bending156 over the board
with the charcoal to begin the work. "We'll make it that way, anyway."

The next day passers-by saw a white board nailed up over the door, which
contained a charcoal sketch of a soldier seated on a chunk of wood, with
a pipe in his mouth, taking as much ease as Si could throw into the
outlines of his face and body, and with it was this legend:

"WHO IS YER'S REST."

The next idea that came into the partners' minds was that the
requirements of society demanded that they give a housewarming in their
sumptuous abode. They at once set about making it a memorable social
event.

While out with a wagon after forage they found an Indiana man who had
settled in that country. He had a good orchard. They bought from him a
barrel of pretty hard cider and several bushels of apples. His wife knew
how to make fried dough nuts of real Indiana digestibility. They would
be luxuries for the boys, and a half-bushel were contracted for. The
farmer was to bring them all in his wagon, and Si and Shorty were to
meet him at the pickets and guard the treasures to their abode.

They bought a little bale of fragrant Kinnikinnick tobacco from the
sutler, made a sufficiency of corncob pipes, swept off the ground in
front of their house, which, as there had been no rain for several days,
was in good condition, with brooms of brush, that it might serve for a
dancing-floor, gathered in a stock of pitch-pine knots for their fire,
spoke157 to Bunty Jim to bring his fiddle along, and to Uncle Sassafras,
the Colonel's cook, to come down with his banjo, and their preparations
were completed.

It was a crisp, delightful Winter evening, with the moon at full, the
fire burning brightly, and every body in the best of spirits. The awful
week of marching, enduring and suffering; of terrific fighting,
limitless bloodshed; of wounds and death to one158 out of every four men
in the ranks; of nerve-racking anxieties to all might as well have been
centuries ago for any sign that appeared on the bright, animated faces
of the young men who gathered in front of the cabin. They smoked, danced
old-fashioned country dances to the music of the fiddle and the banjo,
and sang songs which lamented the death of "Lily Dale," mourned that "My
Nelly was sleeping in the Hazel Dell," adjured the "Silver Moon" to
"roll on," and so on through the whole repertoire of the sentimental
ballads of that day.

Then they were invited into the house to inspect its complete, luxurious
appointments, and feast themselves to bursting on apples, hard cider,
and doughnuts that would have tried any stomach but a young soldier's.

Billy Gurney, who had been back to Nashville as one of the guard to a
train-load of wounded, was induced to favor the company with the newest
song, which had just reached that city. He cleared his throat with
another tincupful of cider, and started off with:

"When this cruel war is over."

Rapturous applause followed the first verse, and Billy started in to
teach them the chorus, so they could all join.

A loud explosion came from the fireplace, a campkettle full of cider
that was being mulled by the fire was spattered over the company,
scalding some of them severely; stones from the fireplace and bullets
flew about the room. They all rushed out.159 Footsteps could be heard
running in the distance. They looked in that direction, and recognized
Sol Murphy's broad back and bushy head.

"That blamed Wagonmaster dropped a nosebag with a lot o' cartridges in
it down the chimbly," said Shorty, who had made an inspection of the
fireplace. "Mad because he wasn't invited. You bet, I'll salivate him
well for that little trick."



CHAPTER XIV. DEACON KLEGG'S SURPRISE DECIDES TO VISIT MURFREESBORO' AND
MEETS WITH ADVENTURES.

"MOTHER," said Mr. Josiah Klegg, Sr., suddenly laying down the County
paper, and beginning to polish his spectacles with his red bandanna, "do
you know what I've the greatest mind in the world to do?"

It was an evening in February, 1863, and the family had been sitting for
some hours after supper around the bright fire, engaged in various
occupations.

"No, father," said Mrs. Klegg, looking up from her knitting with such
interest that she dropped several stitches. The girls stopped their
sewing, and turned expectant eyes on their father. When Mr. Josiah
Klegg, sr., announced that he had a great mind to do anything, that
thing stood in imminent danger of being done. He was not given to
ordinary schemes, still less to idle speech. He thought slowly and
doggedly, but when he had arrived at a conclusion there were 200 pounds
of solid, stubborn unchangeable Indiana farmer behind the conclusion.

"What is it, father?" asked Mrs. Klegg, making an automatic effort to
gather up her lost stitches.

"I've a good mind to go down to Murfreesboro' and161 see Si," responded
the father.

"Why, father!" gasped the three "wimmen folks."

"Go down there among them gorillas?" ejaculated Mrs. Klegg.

"And John Morgan raiders," echoed Maria.

"And Secesh soljers, butternut brigands, rebel rascals," added Tilda.

"Well," answered Mr. Klegg, deliberately, "they've been peggin' away at
Si for a good many months now, and they haven't killed him by a jug
full. Guess I kin stand 'em for a few days. The papers say that the
army's settled down at Murfreesboro' for the Winter, and that the
railroad's runnin' all right from Looyiville clean there. I kin do
nothin' 'round the farm for the next three or four weeks, till Spring
opens, except the chores about the house, which Jimmie Watkins kin tend
to as well as I kin. I've got all my fences in good shape, and split all
the rails I need. There's wood enough cut to last the Winter out. I've
hauled all the wheat to town I'm goin' to till prices go higher. I
finished gittin' out my clover seed yesterday, and now there's nothin'
left for a month but to do boy's work 'round the house, or talk politics
down at the store. I'd rather go down and see Si."

"Why, father," remonstrated Mrs. Klegg, "how kin you ever git along in
them camps, and live the way them soljers do?"

"You forgit," said her husband, with a touch of dignity, "that I druv
team for a whole week in the Black Hawk war. I wanted to enlist, but I
was too young. Then I turned out and drilled with the militia as long as
there was any musters. I know a good162 deal more about war than you
think."

"How do you s'pose you'll ever find Si in all that ruck o' men?" said
Mrs. Klegg doubtfully.

"O, they all know Si by this time," returned the father confidently.
"Besides, he's an officer now. I'll go right to Gen. Rosecrans's
Headquarters. He's probably right near him, where he kin have him at any
time. But don't write to Si that I'm comin'. I want to surprise him."

As soon as it was seen that the father was determined to go, mother and
daughters entered upon the scheme with the greatest enthusiasm.

Each began to think of some useful thing that they could send to Si to
add to his comfort. Mrs. Klegg had already knit a couple of pairs of
lambs'-wool socks, and was at work on a third. Maria had knit a pair of
mittens, gay with the National colors and representing the flag. The
blue field with the white stars around the wrists, while the red and
white stripes ran down the fingers. When they were put on the effect was
picturesque, not to say startling.

"When Si holds up his hands," remarked Matilda, "they'll look like big
hollyhock blossoms, and the men'll wonder where he got posies in
Winter."

Matilda contributed a red flannel shirt, upon which she had been engaged
since the beginning of Winter reminded her that such a present would be
very acceptable to Si. She had done a lot of her finest stitching upon
it. Si's initials were wrought in white thread on the cuffs, and on the
bosom was a maze of white lines representing hearts, anchors, roses and
flags of the Union. In the center of these, in letters of bold outline
but rugged execution, was the legend: "Josiah Klegg. His shirt. From
Tildy."163

"Round is the ring, That has no end; So is my luv for you, My dearest
friend."

"I know it ain't quite right to speak of Si as a friend," she explained,
when she spread the shirt out for the family's examination and
admiration; "but I couldn't think of nothin' to rhyme with brother."

"I could," said Maria, in her superior way. "I'd said somethin' like
this:

"The ring's no end From which to t'other; So is the love I send My
onliest brother."

"Maria, you always was so much smarter'n me in writin' poetry," admitted
Matilda. "It would've bin ever so much nicer. But it's too late now to
do it over agin."

Annabel was sorely puzzled what to send. She wanted something that would
be indicative of her feelings toward Si, and yet maiden modesty
restrained with the fear of sending something that might be too
significant. She spent a sleepless night thinking it over, and finally
decided to send a new ambrotype of herself, with a lock of her hair. It
is needless to say that this kept Si warmer than a whole bale of flannel
shirts would have done.

A thousand things occurred to the family that Si would enjoy, from a
couple of feather pillows to a164 crock of "head cheese," of which Si
used to be immensely fond. The old hair trunk was brought down from the
garret, and its dimensions studied. But the next evening Jim Wilkins, of
Co. Q, who was home patching up a leg which had caught a bullet at Stone
River, came in, and his advice was asked.

"No, sir-ree," said he, emphatically. "Don't you never take no trunk nor
no box. Don't you take nothin' that you can't hang on to, and keep your
eye on every minute. I think the Army o' the Cumberland is the most
honestest army in the whole world. I'd knock any man down in a minute
that hinted there was a single thief in it. All the same, the only sure
way to keep anything you want is to never let go of it for a second.
You'd better only take a carpetsack, and look mighty sharp after that,
the nearer you git to the army. Keep one eye on it all the time after
you cross the Ohio River, and both eyes on it when you git to
Murfreesboro'."

A Stoutly-built, Farmer-looking Man Entered the Train 164

A week later a strongly-built, farmer-looking man entered the Nashville
train at Louisville and looked anxiously around among the crowd of
soldiers with which it was filled. His full, resolute face was destitute
of whiskers, except a clump of sandy hair on his chin. He wore a coarse
but warm overcoat, a black slouch hat, around his neck was a voluminous
yarn comforter, and mittens of the same generous proportions were on his
hands, one of which held a bulging blue umbrella and the other a large
striped carpetsack.

He found a vacant seat beside a rough-looking soldier, who had evidently
been drinking, placed his precious carpetsack between his heavy, well-
oiled boots, stuck his umbrella beside it, unwound his comforter, laid
it back on his shoulders, took off his mittens, unbuttoned his overcoat,
and took from his pocket a long plug of navy tobacco, from which he cut
off a liberal chew, and then courteously tendered the plug and knife to
his neighbor, with the ramark:166

"Have a chaw, stranger."

The soldier took the plug, cut it in two, put the bigger part in his own
pocket, sliced off a liberal portion off the other for his own mouth,
and then rather reluctantly handed the remainder, with the knife, back
to Mr. Klegg, without so much as a "thankee."

"Manners seem a little different in the army from what they are in
Injianny," thought Mr. Klegg; "but mebbe the soldier's not had a chance
to git any terbaker for a long time."

He chewed meditatively for some minutes, and then made another friendly
advance toward his seat-partner.

"S'pose we'll start purty soon, won't we, stranger?"

"The devil you do," responded the other surlily, and sending over a
strong whisky breath. "Don't know much about this blamed old start-when-
it-pleases and stop-when-you-don't-want-to railroad. We'll start when
some young sardine with shoulder-straps finishes his breakfast, and stop
when John Morgan tears up the track. If you didn't feed your hog's any
better'n this train runs, old Hayseed, they'd starve to death in a
month."

"He ain't jest what you'd call perlite," thought Mr. Klegg, as he
meditatively chewed for a little while longer. "But mebbe that's the way
in the army. Probably Si's got jest that way, too."

He chewed meditatively for a few minutes longer. The air was getting
very redolent of the fumes from his neighbor's breath. "I hope Si ain't
got to drinking like that," he sighed, as a particularly strong167 whiff
reached him. "If he has, I won't rest a minute till I've yanked him up
before Gen. Rosecrans and made him take the pledge. Gen. Rosecrans can't
afford to have officers around him who drink. 'Tain't right to trust
men's lives to 'em."

"Say, ole Sorrel-top," said the soldier, turning to ward him, "give us
another bite o' that terbaker o' yours, will you?"

Mr. Klegg did not like the tone nor the manner, but he produced his
tobacco, and began prudently clipping off a fair-sized chew for his
companion him self.

"O, the devil, that ain't no chaw," said the other, pulling the tobacco
and knife from his hand. "Don't be stingy with your terbaker, old
Hawbuck. You kin git plenty more."

He sliced a strip off clear across the plug, and stuffed it into his
mouth.

"You don't chaw terbaker. You jest eat it," remonstrated the long-
suffering Mr. Klegg.

"Here, I'll take some o' that, too," said another soldier on the seat in
front, snatching at the knife and tobacco.

"No you won't, you sardine," angrily responded the first soldier. "This
gentleman's a friend o' mine. I won't see him robbed."

The reply was a blow, and the two were soon mixed up in a savage fight.
Mr. Klegg was alarmed, lest one of them should be hurt with the heavy,
sharp knife, and he mixed in to get it in his hand. In the scuffle his
hat, mittens and comforter were thrown to the floor and trampled in the
tobacco juice. The provost-guard rushed in, a stalwart Sergeant168
separated the combatants, jammed the first soldier down in the seat
until the timbers cracked, banged the other one's head against the side
of the car, and remarked:

"Confound you, don't either o' you raise a hand or open your mouths, or
I'll break both your necks. Old man, you keep mighty quiet, too. Hain't
you got no sense, to mix up in such a row? You're old enough to know
better. I'll snatch you off this train if you make any more
disturbance."

Mr. Klegg's blood was up. He wanted to thrash the whole crowd, including
the Sergeant, and felt equal to it. But the cry was raised that the
train was going. The Sergeant hastened off, with a parting admonition to
him to keep still if he knew what was good for him.

"I'm afeared the army's a mighty rough place," thought Mr. Klegg, as he
gathered up his soiled belongings and tried to straighten them out. "I
wonder if it'll git wuss the nearer we git to the front?"

The train pulled out of Louisville, and he became interested in the
great banks of red earth, crowned with surly, black-mouthed cannon,
where the forts were, the rows of white tents in the camps, the
innumerable droves of horses and mules in the corrals, and the long
trains of army wagons.

"I'm goin' to stock up with some horses when I git back," he said to
himself. "The Government seems to need a powerful sight o' them, and
prices is goin' up faster'n wheat."

Things had now been tolerably quiet in the car for over half an hour,
entirely too long for a party of soldiers returning to the front.
Monotonous peace169 was obnoxious to them. A two-fisted young fellow up
toward the front rose up, drained the last drops from a pint flask,
dashed the bottle on the floor, and yelled:

"Here's for a quiet life, and peace and good will.170 I belong to John
F. Miller's Brigade, the best brigade in the Army of the Cumberland, and
the only one that captured any guns at Stone River. I can lick any man
in McCook's Corps."

The answering yell that went up seemed to indicate that nearly all in
the car belonged to McCook's Corps. There was a general peeling off of
overcoats, and a rush forward of answerers to his bold challenge. A few
yelled,

"Hooray for Miller's Brigade!"

"Hooray for Crittenden's Corps!"

"Hooray for Pap Thomas!"

and started in to help out the Miller man. Mr. Klegg rose to his feet in
dismay. Before he could think the soldier beside him picked up his
carpetsack and flung it at the Miller's Brigade man. Mr. Klegg groaned
as he thought of the consequences to a jar of honey and a crock of
butter, which Mrs. Klegg had put in for Si's delectation.

The Free Fight. 169

The combatants came together with the hearty zeal of men who had been
looking for a fight for a straight month. The soldier beside Mr. Klegg
snatched up the umbrella and began laying about him. The crash was
fearful. The backs of the seats were wrenched off, the carpetsack
trodden under foot, the windows broken out, and finally Mr. Klegg found
himself on the floor of the car under a mass of struggling, fighting,
striking and kicking men.

The train came to a halt at a station. The guards on the platform rushed
in, and by dint of a vigorous use of gun-butts and other persuasives,
and more strong language than Mr. Klegg had ever heard before in all his
life, succeeded in quieting the171 disturbance and making the men take
their seats. Mr. Klegg recovered his carpetsack, his comforter, mittens,
hat and umbrella, and sat down again. He turned around and glared at the
soldier by his side.

"If it warn't for startin' another fight," he said to himself, "I'd
punch his infernal head."

But the soldier had gone to sleep; he lolled his head over in Mr.
Klegg's lap and snored loudly.

For two or three hours afterward the train rattled along without
particular incident. Mr. Klegg recovered his composure, and got very
much interested in the country through which they were passing, and its
farming possibilities. These did not strike him favorably, and he was
more than ever convinced that the Wabash Valley was the garden spot of
the world. Finally, the train stopped and backed on to a switch to allow
another to pass.

An enterprising man had put up a shanty near the track, with a long
shelf in front, upon which were displayed sandwiches, pies, boiled eggs,
and other eatables. The men all rushed out of the car. Mr. Klegg had
begun to feel hungry himself, and joined them.

"How much for that pie?" he asked, pointing to one.

"Half-a-dollar," answered the keeper. "Fifty cents for pies, 25 cents
for sandwiches, 10 cents for a cup of coffee."

"Too blamed much," shouted a chorus of voices. "An infernal pirate come
down here to skin the soldiers. Let's clean him out."

Before Mr. Klegg fairly understood the words everything was snatched up.
Those who did not get172 hold of any of the viands began on the shed. It
was torn to pieces, the stove kicked over, the coffee spilled on the
ground, and the eating-house keeper and his assistants scuttled away out
of danger. The whistle sounded, they all rushed back into the cars, and
Mr. Klegg had to stay his hunger with another chew of tobacco.

Again there was tolerable peace for several hours, broken at last by the
sudden stoppage of the train out in the country, the sound of shots, and
the yell of "Guerrillas! Guerrillas!"

Everybody bolted out of the cars. Those who had guns buckled on their
cartridge-boxes, and formed in line, ready for orders. A squad of rebel
cavalry had been trying to tear up the track, but were surprised by the
unexpected appearance of the train. They had fallen back to the top of
the hill, to see how many were aboard, and whether it looked profitable
to make an attack. They were keeping up a desultory fire at long range.

Mr Klegg had seen a gun standing in the corner as he ran out. He picked
it up and joined one of the squads. He was no coward, and if there had
to be fighting, he was willing to do his share.

Mr. Klegg Ready for Action. 172

"Bully for you, old Hayseed," said the man who had wanted to whip any
man in the right wing of the army. "You're made of the right stuff,
after all."

Others around him nodded approval, and Mr. Klegg was conscious that the
social atmosphere was more pleasant for him.

The guerrillas finally decided to give the job up, and rode away, after
yelling some 'very uncomplimentary things about Yankee soldiers
generally.

When Mr. Klegg returned to his seat he found his carpetsack, umbrella,
mittens, and comforter gone. Likewise the man who had been riding with
him. He waxed very wroth, and lifted up his voice to let them know it.
Several around began to guy him, but suddenly the man from Miller's
Brigade forced his way174 through the crowd and asked:

"What's the matter, 'Squire?"

Mr. Klegg explained.

"Well, you've got to have every one of them things back again, if I've
to lick every man on the train. I'll not see an old man and as good a
man as you are mistreated where I am. I've got a father my self."

This time he was in the large majority. All of McCook's men were with
him. A general hunt was instituted through the train, and one by one his
possessions were recovered and brought back to him.

"Thankee, gentlemen; thankee very kindly. Will any o' you gentlemen have
a chaw of terbaker? It's all I have to offer you, but it's good."

When the train pulled into Nashville that night a very tired old farmer
got off and inquired:

"How much farther is it to Murfreesboro'?"

"About 25 miles," someone answered.

"I'm awful glad to hear it. If it was 30 miles I don't believe I could
stand it."



CHAPTER XV. DEACON KLEGG'S ARRIVAL IS MISTAKEN FOR A KNIGHT OF THE
GOLDEN CIRCLE.

"THINGS don't look so tumultuous-like on this train," said Mr. Klegg,
with a sigh of satisfaction, as he seated himself in the car for
Murfreesboro' and deposited his valuables by his side. "I know that boys
will be boys, and I like to see them have fun just as well as any other
man, but I must say that they made things on that other train a little
too lively for a middle-aged Deacon of the Baptist Church."

A broad-shouldered Provost-Sergeant walked through the car, with an air
of authority, and gave orders to several who were seated in it.

"Must be the Constable, or Sheriff, or Town Marshal," mused Mr. Klegg.
"I hope he'll stay on the train till we reach Murfreesboro', and keep
order."

Mr. Klegg was right. The irregularities and disorders of the "rear"
ended at Nashville. There the strict discipline of the "front" began
under the iron sway of the Provost-Marshal, whose guards were
everywhere, particularly at the depots and on the cars. The occupants of
the car were as orderly as the boys at a country school when the master
is on his throne, with his eyes about him.

It was a bright day, and the country roundabout176 of surpassing
interest to the Indiana farmer. He saw the domed, stately capitol of
Tennessee crowning the highest hill, and lording a glorious landscape of
hill and valley, through which the Cumberland River flowed in majestic
sweeps, like a broad girdle of sparkling silver. Then came the frowning
forts, with beetling banks of blood-red clay, with terror-striking black
guns, with rugged palisades, and a porcupine bristle of abatis. Sentries
with gleaming muskets paced their high parapets. Every mile, as far as
he could see, was full of objects of engrossing interest.

He became so absorbed in the feast of his eyes that he did not observe
that a middle-aged, clean shaven man in a suit of dusty black had sat
down beside him, and was studying him with attention.

"How do you do, my friend?" said he at length, putting out his hand.

Mr. Klegg turned with a start, and instinctively put out his hand.

"Howdy," he said, with a tone of little encouragement, for he would much
rather have continued watching the country than indulge in purposeless
conversation. The stranger grasped his hand warmly, and pressed his
thumb upon the first joint of Mr. Klegg's, and caught his little finger
in a peculiar way. Deacon Klegg had been initiated into the Odd Fellows,
and he dimly recognized this as a "grip," but he could not associate it
for the moment with any of the degrees of the brotherhood of the Three
blinks.

"Were you out late last night," said the stranger in a low, deeply-
impressive tone.177

"Not pertickerlerly," answered Deacon Klegg, turning to catch a view of
the stockade at La Vergne, where the 1st Mich. Eng. had made such a
gallant defense. "I'd a mighty bothersome day, and was purty well
tuckered out. I found a good place to sleep, and I turned in rather
airly. Say," continued he, pointing to the wreckage of battle, "the boys
seem to have poked it to 'em purty lively out there."

"It was a very sharp fight," returned the other; "but for once our
friend Wheeler made a mistake, and lost heavily. Down the road farther
you'll see evidences of his more successful work in some miles of burnt
wagons."

"Bad man, that Gen. Wheeler," said the Deacon, looking steadfastly out
of the window.

The stranger looked a little disappointed, but he rallied, and presently
gave the second grand hailing sign of the Knights of the Golden Circle,
in the same low, impressive tone:

"Did you see a star last night?"

"Can't say that I did," responded Mr. Klegg rather indifferently. "There
was lots of gas-lamps burning, and I was rather taken with them, so that
I didn't notice the moon or stars. Besides, as I told you before, I
turned in purty airly, for I was tired with my ride from Looyville, and
I wanted to git in good shape for the trip to-day."

A cloud of annoyance came upon the stranger's face, and he did not speak
again for a minute or two. Then he said:

"You are from Indiana, are you not?"

"Yes," said Mr. Klegg.

"From Posey County?"178

"Yes."

"I knew so. I've been looking for you for several days."

"Looking for me?" said Deacon Klegg, turning around in amazement. "How
come you to be lookin' for me? What business have you got with me? How'd
you know I was a-comin'? Nobody knowed it outside o' Mariar, my wife,
and my family."179

Deacon Klegg and the Knight of The Golden Circle.

"Come, come, now," said the other impatiently. "Don't try to play off on
me. You needn't be afraid. I'm all right. I'm Deputy Grand Organizer for
the Knights for Southern Indiana and the jurisdiction of Louisville
generally. You ought to remember me. I recollect you perfectly. I
organized the Lodges in Poseyville, and all through your County. I
planted the seed there for a big crop of Butternuts that'll help hurl
the tyrant Lincoln from his bloody throne, and give the country back
into the hands of the white man. I got word that you were coming down
with important information from your section for Gen. Bragg and John
Morgan, and I've been on the lookout for you."

An understanding of what the man was, and what he was driving at, began
to slowly filter into Deacon Klegg's mind, and his temper to rise.

"Confound you, you pizen Copperhead," he said wrathfully. "What do you
take me for? Do you take me for a miserable, traitorous Knight o' the
Golden Circle? I'm a member o' the church, or I'd punch your pizen head.
I'm a loyal man, and I've got a son fightin' for the Union."

"H-u-s-h," said the unconvinced man, laying his hand on the Deacon's
arm. "Don't talk so loud. They're watching us."

Klegg shook his hand off angrily, but the warning came too late. The
Provost-Sergeant had been watching them, at the instigation of a sharp-
eyed, clerkly-looking man in semi-uniform.

The Sergeant strode toward them, followed by a soldier with a gun.

"I arrest you both," said he. "You are men that180 we've been looking
for. You'll stay right there in your seats till we get to Murfreesboro',
and this man 'll see that you do."

The soldier took position at the end of the seat, and dropped the end of
his musket on the floor with an I've-got-my-orders-an'-I'm-going-to-
stay-right-here look on his face.

"You've been lookin' for me," gasped Deacon Klegg. "Who else's been
lookin' for me, I'd like to know? Is the whole State o' Tennessee
lookin' for me? What was you lookin' for me for? Think I've run away
from Injianny without pay in' my debts? Think I want to desert my wife
and children? Young man, you don't know Josiah Klegg. I've got a quarter
section of as good land as there is in the Wabash bottoms, and I don't
owe a dollar on it. As for leavin' Maria Klegg, I wouldn't do it for the
whole State of Injianny. What've you been lookin' for me for, I'd like
to know?"

"Old man, I haven't time to talk to you, and it ain't my business.
You'll find out soon enough, when you git to headquarters, and so will
your partner there."

"My partner," echoed Deacon Klegg. "This man's no partner o' mine. I
never laid eyes on him till a half-hour ago."

"Continue your speech at headquarters," said the Sergeant, as he moved
off. "I haven't time to listen to it now. You'd better save your breath
till then, for you'll have to do some mighty slick talkin' to save your
spying neck, I can tell you that."

Deacon Klegg sank back in the seat dumfounded. "What on airth kin he
mean?" he gasped.181

"It's another of the outrages of the despot Lincoln," answered his
companion. "It's another of the arbitrary arrests by his military
satraps. Liberty is dead in this country until we can overthrow that
nigger-loving usurper."

"Shut up," said the Deacon savagely. "If you say another word I'll mash
you. I won't be disturbed when I'm tryin' to think things out."

"I want that carpetsack and umbrella of yours," said the Sergeant,
coming back. "I've no doubt you've got 'em both full of treasonable
documents and information for your rebel friends. Guard, watch both
these men closely, and see that they don't destroy any papers, nor throw
anything out the window."

"Young man," said the Deacon resolutely, "you can't have that carpetsack
or that umbreller. They're my property. If you tech 'em I'll have the
law on you. I'll sue you for trespass, larceny, assault and battery, and
intent to provoke. I hain't done nothin' to justify it. I'm Josiah
Klegg, of Posey County, Injianny, Deacon in the Ebenezer Church, on Mill
Crick. I'm goin' down to Murfreesboro' to visit my son, Josiah Klegg,
jr., o' the 200th Injianny Volunteers. You all know him. He's an
officer; he's the boy that tried to git a commissary wagon away from the
rebels durin' the battle, and he and Shorty 've got a house with a tin
roof."

The other occupants gathered around and laughed derisively.

"Twon't do, old man," said the Sergeant, trying to wrest the carpetsack
away. "You tell a pretty story, and you're well disguised, but we're
onto you.182 We got full particulars about you from Louisville. You're a
bad lot down there in Posey County. There's a Knights of the Golden
Circle Lodge under every sycamore. You'd be at Gen. Bragg's headquarters
to-morrow night if we let you alone."

He pulled hard at the carpetsack, and Deacon Klegg resisted with all his
sturdy might. His strength was quite a match for the Sergeant's, but
other soldiers came to help the latter. The handles came off in the
struggle, and the Deacon was forced down into his seat. The other man
took advantage of the confusion to work his way through the crowd to the
door and jump off. This angered the Sergeant, and coming back to where
Mr. Klegg sat, exhausted and intensely mad, he said:

"I'll make sure that you don't get away, anyhow. I ought to've done this
at first."

So saying, he snapped a hand-cuff over Mr. Klegg's wrist and then over
the arm of the seat.

The Deacon was never so humiliated in his life. He was simply speechless
in his rage and mortification.

Among the many of Gen. Rosecrans's eccentricities and vagrant fancies
was one for prowling around through his camps at night, wearing a
private's overcoat and cap. One night he strolled into the camp of the
200th Ind. The superior architecture of Si and Shorty's cabin struck
him, and he decided to look inside. He knocked on the door.

"Come in," shouted Si.183

He entered, and found Si engaged with Tom Billings in a game of checkers
for the championship of the 200th Ind. Shorty was watching the game
intently, as Si's counselor, and Zeke Tomkins was giving like assistance
to Tom Billings. Two other crack players were acting as umpires. The
light from the fire shone brightly upon them, but left the front of the
room, where the General stood, in complete darkness. They were so
absorbed in the game that they merely looked up, saw that the newcomer
was a private soldier, and supposed that he had merely dropped in to
watch the game.

"Did you clean your feet on the bayonet outside the door?" demanded
Shorty, as he fixed his eyes again on the red and white grains of corn,
which represented the men on the board.

"No, I forgot," said the General quietly. "Well, go right outside and
clean 'em off," ordered Shorty. "Don't want no mud tracked in here for
us to carry out agin."

The General, much amused, went out, carefully scraped his boots, and
then returned.

"All right," said Shorty, looking up as he reentered. "Now look all you
like, but don't say nothin'. Nobody s allowed to say a word but the
players and the umpires."

The game proceeded in silence for several minutes, and the General
became much interested. It was one of his peculiarities that he could
not help getting interested in anything that his soldiers were doing,
from the boiling of a cup of coffee or the pitching of a tent to the
alignment of a company. Si was getting a little the better of Billings,
and184 the General's sympathies naturally went toward the loser. He
touched Billings on the shoulder, as he was about to make a move, and
said:

The General Interrupts the Game 184

"Don't do that. You'll open your king row.

"Move\x97"

Shorty was alert on the instant.

"Shut up," he commanded. "You've no business talkin'; I told you when
you come in you weren't allowed to say nothin'."

"Excuse me," said the General; "I quite forgot."

"Well, see that you don't forgit agin," growled Shorty. "We've got quite
enough talent in the game already. We don't want no more to come in."

Again the game proceeded in intent silence for some minutes. Then Si
called out:

"Hold on; you can't jump backwards with that man. That ain't no king."

"I say it is a king," said Billings. "I got him into the row half an
hour ago, and crowned him. You knocked the crown off when you moved."

"I know better," said Shorty. "I've been watching that piece right
along, and he's never been nearer the king-row than he is this minute."

A hot discussion ensued. The General forgot him self and joined in in
his usual positive, authoritative way.

"I say the man had been crowned. I saw him crowned and the crown
afterward knocked off. There's the crown by the side there."

Shorty's wrath rose. "I told you when you come in here," he said
sharply, "not to mix into this game. You've got no business in it. Keep
your advice till it's asked for, or git out o' the tent. If you don't
git out I'll put you out."

"Be careful, my man," said the General, speaking in his usual way. "You
are talking to an officer."

"I don't care if you are a Lieutenant or a Captain, even," Si chimed in;
"you have no business mixing in a quiet little game o' checkers
between186 enlisted men."

"I am more than a Captain," said the General, opening his overcoat
slightly, to show his double dow of buttons.

"Dern' a Major or a Colonel don't make it much better," said Si,
obdurately, but with much more respect.

"I'm higher than a Colonel," said the General, amusedly, and opening his
overcoat a little farther.

"Excuse us, General," they all murmured, rising to their feet, and
taking the position of a soldier.

"You don't command our brigade, do you?" said Shorty, trying to get a
better view of his face.

"I command this brigade, and several others," said the General,
smilingly enjoying their confusion.

"Lord, a Major-General commanding a corps," gasped Shorty, backing up
with the rest into line, and saluting with the profoundest respect.

"Still higher," laughed the General, stepping for ward to where the
light fell full on his face. "I'm Maj.-Gen. Rosecrans, commanding this
army. But don't be disturbed. You've done nothing. You are all entitled
to your opinions, as free American citizens; but I will insist that that
man had been in the king row, and should be crowned. But you settle that
among yourselves.

"I merely dropped in to compliment you on the skill you have shown in
building your house and its comfort. I'm glad to find that it looks even
better inside than out. I know that you are good soldiers from the way
you take care of yourselves. But so fine a house ought to have a better
checker-board than a barrel-head, with grains of corn for men. Who are
the owners of the house?"187

"Me and him," said Shorty, indicating himself and Si.

"Very good," said the General; "both of you report at my Headquarters
to-morrow morning at 10 o'clock. Good night."

"Three cheers and a tiger for Old Rosey," yelled Shorty as soon as he
could get his scattered wits together enough to say a word.

They gave three such rousing cheers that the rest of Co. Q came running
out of their tents, and joined in cheering, as fast as the news could be
communicated to them.

The next morning a squad of prisoners was being conducted toward Army
Headquarters. At their head walked a stout, middle-aged farmer, carrying
a portly blue umbrella. He had spent the night among the riotous spirits
in the guard-house, and had evidently undergone much wear and tear. He
looked as if things had not been going his way at all. By him marched
the stalwart Provost-Sergeant, with a heavy striped carpetsack under his
arm.

Gen. Rosecrans rode up at the head of his staff, from an early morning
inspection of some part of the camp. The men saluted and cheered.

"Whom have you here, Sergeant?" said the General, reining up his horse
beside the squad.

"That's Gen. Rosecrans," said one of the guards to Deacon Klegg.

"Nobody of importance," replied the Sergeant, "except this old man here.
He's a Knight of the188 Golden Circle, that we've been watching for for
some time, going through with information and other things from the
Knights of Indiana to the enemy in Tullahoma. I've got his carpetsack
here. I expect it's full of papers and contraband stuff. It feels as if
it had lead in it. I am taking him to the Provost-Marshal's for
examination."

He set the heavy carpetsack down on the ground, to rest for a minute.

"Gen. Rosecrans, it's all a plaguey lie," burst out Deacon Klegg. "I'm
as loyal a man as there is in the State of Injianny. I voted for Abe
Lincoln and Oliver P. Morton. I've come down here to visit my son,
Josiah Klegg, jr., of the 200th Injianny Volunteers. You know him,
General. He's one o' your officers. He's a Corporal. He's the boy that
tried to take a commissary wagon away from the rebels durin' the battle,
and he's got a house with a tin roof. You recollect that, don't you?"

Some of the staff laughed loudly, but the General checked them with a
look, and spoke encouragingly to the Deacon.

"Yes, General," continued Mr. Klegg, "I knowed you'd know all about him
the minit I mentioned him to you. I told this over and over agin to
these plaguey fools, but they wouldn't believe me. As to that carpetsack
havin' things for the enemy, it's the biggest lie that ever was told.
I'll open it right here before you to show you. I've only got some
things that my wife and the girls was sendin to Si."

He fumbled around for his keys.

"Possibly you have made a mistake, Sergeant," said the General. "What
evidence have you?"189

"We'd got word to look out for just such a man, who'd play off the dodge
of being an old plug of a farmer on a visit to his son."

Meeting Between si and his Father. 189

"He was on the train with a man whom all the detectives know as one of
the worst Knights in the gang. They were talking together all the way.
I190 arrested the other one, too, but he slipped away in the row this
man made to distract our attention."

In the meantime Deacon Klegg had gotten his carpetsack open for the
General's inspection. It was a sorry sight inside. Butter, honey,
shirts, socks, boots, and cakes are excellent things taken separately,
but make a bad mixture. Deacon Klegg looked very dejected. The rest
grinned broadly.

"I don't seem to see anything treasonable so far," said the General.
"Sergeant, take the rest of your prisoners up to the Provost-Marshal,
and leave this man with me."

"Gen. Rosecrans," said a familiar voice, "you ordered us to report to
you this mornin' at 10 o'clock. We're here."

The General looked up and saw Corporal Si Klegg and Shorty standing at a
"salute."

"Si!" said the Deacon, joyously, sticking out a hand badly smeared with
honey and butter.

"Pap!" shouted the Corporal, taking the hand in rapture. "How in the
world did you git down here?"

They all laughed now, and the General did not check them.

"Corporal," said he, "I turn this man over to you. I'll hold you
responsible that he don't communicate with the enemy. But come on up to
Headquarters and get your checker-board. I have a very nice one for
you."

192



CHAPTER XVI. IN A NEW WORLD DEACON KLEGG HAS A LITTLE EXPERIENCE OF LIFE
IN THE ARMY.

"Pap" said Si, by way of introduction, "this is Shorty, my pardner, and
the best pardner a feller ever had, and the best soldier in the Army of
the Cumberland."

"Glad to see you, Mr. Klegg," said Shorty, reddening and grasping the
father's outstretched hand; "but you orter 've broke that boy o' your'n
o' lyin' when he was young."

"He never did lie," said the Deacon cheerfully, "and I don't believe
he's lyin' now. I've heard a great deal o' you, Mr. Shorty, and I'm sure
he's tellin' the truth about you."

"Drop the Mister, Pap," said Si. "We never call each other Mister here,
except when we're mad."

Si took the carpetsack under his arm, and they trudged up toward Army
Headquarters.

Relieved of anxiety as to his own personal safety, and having found his
son, Deacon Klegg viewed everything around him with open-eyed interest.
It was a wonderfully new and strange world into which the sober,
plodding Indiana farmer had dropped. The men around him spoke the speech
to which his ears were accustomed, but otherwise they were as foreign as
if they had come from the heart of China.193

Their dress, their manners, their actions, the ways in which they were
busying themselves, had no resemblance to anything seen on the prosaic
plains of the Wabash in his half-century of life there. The infantry
sweeping over the fields in endless waves, the dashing cavalcades of
officers and staffs, the bewildering whirl of light batteries dazed him.
Even Si awed him. It was hard to recognize in the broad-shouldered,
self-assured young soldier, who seemed so entirely at home in his
startling surroundings, the blundering, bashful hobbledehoy boy of a few
months before, whose feet and hands were constantly in the way, and into
everything else that they should not be.

"Somehow, Si," he said, looking at his offspring with contemplative eye,
"you seem to have growed like a cornstalk in July, and yit when I come
to measure you you don't seem no taller nor heavier than when you went
away. How is it?"

"Don't know, Pap," Si answered. "I feel as if I'd had more'n 10 long
years o' growth since we crossed the Ohio River. Yit, you don't seem a
minute older than when I went away."

"I didn't feel no older," returned the father, "until I got in that
guard-house last night. Then I could feel my hair gittin' grayer every
hour, and my teeth droppin' out."

"I'm afraid you didn't git much chance to sleep, Pap," said Si
sympathetically.

"Loss o' sleep was the least part of it," said the Deacon feelingly. "I
kin stand a little loss o' sleep without any partickler bother. It
wasn't bein' kept awake so much as the way I was kept awake that bore on
me."

"Why, what happened?" asked Si.

"Better ask what didn't happen," groaned his father. "Used to have some
mighty rough shivarees when I was a boy, and'd jest settled on the
Wabash. Lots o' toughs then, 'specially 'mong the flatboat-men, who'd
nothin' to drink but new sod-cornwhisky, that'd fight in every spoonful.
But for sure, straight-out tumultuousness that guard-house last night
gave six pecks for every bushel of a Wabash shivaree."

Shorty looked meaningly at Si. "Guard-house fellers's likely to be a
ructionary lot o' roosters. Awful sorry you got in among 'em. Was they
very bad?"

"Well, I should say. When I was chucked in they wuz havin' a regular
prize fight, 'cordin' to rules, as to whether Rousseau or Negley wuz the
best General. The Rousseau man got licked, and then the other Rousseau
men wuzzent satisfied, and proposed to lick all the Negley men in the
guard-house; but the Sheridan men interfered, and made the Rousseau men
cool down. They they turned their attention to me. They raised a row
about a citizen being put in among them. It was a disgrace. The guard
house was only intended for soldiers and gentlemen, and no place for
condemned civilians. Then some one said that I had been arrested as a
Knight o' the Golden Circle, on my way to Bragg, with information from
the Injianny Knights. Another insisted that he knowed me, and that I wuz
Vallandigham himself, brought down there to be sent through the lines.
Then I thought sure they'd kill me on the spot. I begged and pled and
denied. Finally, they organized a court-martial to try me for my
life.194

"They had an awful tonguey feller that acted as Prosecutin' Attorney,
and the way he blackguarded me was a shame. He said the word 'traitor'
was wrote in every liniment o' my face; that I wuz a dyed-in-the-wool
butternut, and that the bag I'd brung along with me contained the
muster-rolls of 100,000 Injiannians who'd bin swore in to fight for Jeff
Davis.

"The feller that they appinted to defend me admitted the truth of all
that the other feller'd said. He said that no one could look in my
Southern Injianny face without seem' Secession, treason and nigger-
lovin' wrote there in big letters. He could only ask the honorable court
for mercy instid o' justice, and that I be shot instid o' hung, as I
deserved.

"When they asked me what I'd got to say in my own defense I told 'em the
truth, and said that I'd come down here to visit my son, who they all
knowed they must know Si Klegg. o' the 200th Injianny Volunteers, who
was an officer, and had a house with a tin roof.

"Then they all got up and yelled. They said they knowed Si Klegg only
too well; that he wuz the meanest, oneriest soljer in the army, and that
he looked just like me. They had him in the guard house now. He'd bin
put in for stealin' a hoe-cake from a blind nigger half-way back to
Nashville durin' the battle.

"They brought up the dirtiest, scaliest lookin' man in the guard-house,
and said that was Si Klegg, and that he resembled me so much that they
wuz sure he wuz my son. They asked him if he reckernized me as his dad,
and after they kicked him two195 or three times he said he did, but he
wuz goin' to cut his throat now, since they'd found it out. He couldn't
stand everything. Then they said they'd postpone execution on condition
that I'd kneel down, drink a pint o' whisky, take the oath o' allegiance
to Abe Lincoln, and sing 'We'll hang Jeff Davis on a sour-apple tree.'

"I told 'em I wuz perfectly willin' to take the oath to Abe Lincoln as
often as they pleased; that he wuz my man from start to finish; that I
wanted Jeff Davis hung the minit we ketched him. I'd sing the song if
they'd learn it to me, though I've not sung anything but hymns for the
last 25 years. As for the whisky, I wouldn't tech it on no account, for
I belonged to the Good Templars.

"They all seemed pacified with this except one man, who insisted that I
should drink the whisky. One o' the Sheridan men knocked him down, and
then the fight between the Rousseau men and the Negley men broke out
afresh, and the guard come in and quieted things. By the time they'd
done this they found that the man who had reckernized me as his father
wuz tryin' to hang himself with a piece o' tent-rope. They cut him down,
larruped him with the tent-rope, and then started another court to try
me for havin' sich a son. But some officer come in and took out the
Prosecutin' Attorney and the lawyer for the defense and the Presidin'
Judge and bucked and gagged 'em. This cooled things down agin till
mornin'."

His Honor and the 'attorney' Bucked And Gagged.

"We might walk over to the Provost-Marshal's," suggested Shorty, "and
watch for them fellers as they come out, and take a drop out o' some of
'em."196

"It'll be a waste o' time," said Si, with a shrug of his shoulders.
"They'll all be doing hard labor for the next 30 days, and by that time
we'll likely have a good deal else to think about. Let's report at
Headquarters, and then take Dad over and show him our new house."

"Yes, I'm dying to see it," said the Deacon, "and197 to git somewhere
that I kin sit down in peace and quietness. Seems to me I haven't had a
moment's rest for years, and I'm as nigh tuckered out as I ever wuz in
my life."

At the Army Headquarters was a crowd of officers, mounted and
dismounted. Aids were arriving and departing, and there was a furore
when some General commanding a corps or division came or went, which
impressed the father greatly. Si and Shorty stood at "attention," and
respectfully saluted as the officers passed, and the Deacon tried
awkwardly, but his best, to imitate their example. Two or three spruce
young Orderlies attempted to guy him. but this thing came to a sudden
stop when Shorty took one of them quietly by the ear, and said in a low
voice:

Shorty Admonishes the Orderly 198

"Don't be brash, bub. If you only knowed it, you're givin' your measure
for a first-class, custom-made lickin', and I'm the artist to do the
job. That old man's my chum's father, and I won't allow no funny
business 'round where I am."

"We wuz ordered to report to Gen. Rosecrans," said Si to the Orderly on
duty before the tent.

"What are you to report for?" asked a member of the staff, standing
near. "The General is very busy now, and can see no one. Who ordered you
to report?"

"The General himself," said Si.

The sound of his voice reached Gen. Rosecrans, in side, and busy as he
was, arrested his attention. With the kindly thoughtfulness that so
endeared him to his soldiers he instantly remembered his promise,
dropped his pen, and came to the door.198

"I ordered these men to report," he said to the Aid. "Bring me that
checker-board which lies on my table."

The Aid did so. Gen. Rosecrans noticed the father, and, as usual, saw
the opportunity of doing a kindly, gracious thing.

"You have found your son, I see," he said to him. "Sorry that you had so
much trouble. That's a fine son you have. One of the very best soldiers
in199 my army. I congratulate you upon him. Boys, here is your board and
men. I may drop in some evening and see you play a game. I'll be careful
to clean my feet, this time."

Si and Shorty got very red in the face at this allusion, and began to
stammer excuses. The General playfully pinched Si's ear and said:

"Go to your quarters now, you young rascal, and take your father with
you. I hope he'll have a very pleasant time while he is in camp."

They saluted and turned away too full for utterance. After they had gone
a little distance the Deacon remarked, as if communing with himself:

"And that is Gen. Rosecrans. Awful nice man. Nicest man I ever saw.
Greatest General in the world. Won't this be something to tell Mariar
and the girls. And the men down at the store. I'd 've come down here 40
times jest to 've seen him and talked with him. What'd last night in the
guard house amount to, after all? A man must expect some trouble
occasionally. Wouldn't have no fun if he didn't. Say, Si, remember Old
Susy's chestnut colt?"

"Yes," answered Si.

"I thought he had in him the makin' o' the finest horse in Posey
County."

"Yes," said Si.

"Well, he's turnin' out even better'n I thought he would. Shouldn't
wonder if he could trot down somewhere nigh 2:40."

"You don't say so."

"Yes, indeed. You used to want that colt mighty bad, Si."200

"I remember that I did, Pap."

"Well, Si, I'll give you that colt, and take good care o' him till you
come home, for that 'ere checker board."

When they arrived at their house Si and Shorty arranged the things so as
to give the Deacon a most comfortable rest after his trying experiences,
and cooked him the best dinner their larder would afford. After dinner
they filled him a pipe-full of kinni-kinnick, and the old gentleman sat
down to enjoy201 it while Si and Shorty investigated the contents of the
carpetsack. They found endless fun in its woeful condition. The butter
and honey were smeared over everything, in the rough handling which it
had endured. They pulled out the shirt, the socks, the boots, the paper
and books, and scraped off carefully as much as they could of the
precious honey and butter.

"It's too good to waste the least bit," said Shorty, tasting it from
time to time with unction. "Don't mind a hair or two in the butter, this
time, Si. I kin believe your mother is a good buttermaker. It's the best
I ever tasted."


200 (70K)

"Well, the butter and the honey may be spiled," said Si, "but the other
things are all right. My, ain't this a nice shirt. And them socks.
Shorty, did you ever see such socks. Ever so much obliged to you, Pap,
for these boots. Old Hank Sommers's make. He's the best shoemaker in the
State of Injianny. No Quartermaster's cowhide about them. And\x97"

Si stopped. He had suddenly come across Anna bel's ambrotype. He tried
to slip it into his pocket without the others seeing him. He edged
awkwardly to the door.

"You look over the rest o' the things, Shorty," he said, with a blush
that hid his freckles. "I've got to go down and see the Orderly-
Sergeant."

Shorty and the Deacon exchanged very profound winks.



CHAPTER XVII. THE DEACON'S INITIATION RAPIDLY ACQUIRES EXPERIENCE OF
LIFE IN THE ARMY.

SI ASKED questions of his father about the folks at home and the farm
until the old gentleman's head ached, and he finally fell asleep through
sheer exhaustion.

The next day the Deacon took a comprehensive survey of the house, and
was loud in his praises of Si and Shorty's architecture.

"Beats the cabin I had to take your mother to, Si, when I married her,"
he said with a retrospective look in his eye, "though I'd got up a sight
better one than many o' the boys on the Wabash. Lays a way over the one
that Abe Lincoln's father put up on Pigeon Crick, over in Spencer
County, and where he brung the Widder Johnston when he married her. I
remember it well. About the measliest shack there wuz in the country.
Tom Lincoln, Abe's father, wuz about as lazy as you make 'em. They say
nothin' will cure laziness in a man, but a second wife 'll shake it up
awfully. The Widder Johnston had lots o' git up in her, but she found
Tom Lincoln a dead load. Abe wuz made o' different stuff."

"Yes," continued the father, growing reminiscential. "There wuz no tin
roof, sawed boards, glass winder nor plank floor in that little shack on
the203 Wabash, but some o' the happiest days in my life wuz spent in it.
Me and your mother wuz both young, both very much in love, both chock
full o' hope and hard day's work. By the time you wuz born, Si, we'd got
the farm and the house in much better shape, but they wuz fur from being
what they are to-day."

"If we only had a deed for a quarter section o' land around our house
we'd be purty well started in life for young men," ventured Si.

"I'd want it a heap sight better land than this is 'round here," said
the Deacon, studying the land scape judicially. "Most of it that I've
seen so far is like self-righteousness the more a man has the worse he's
off. Mebbe it'll raise white beans, but I don't know o' nothin' else,
except niggers and poverty. The man that'd stay 'round here, scratchin'
these clay knobs, when there's no law agin him goin' to Injianny or
Illinoy, hain't gumption enough to be anything but a rebel. That's my
private opinion publicly expressed."

"Pap," said Si, after his father had been a day in camp, "I think we've
done fairly well in providin' you with a house and a bed, but I'm
afeared that our cookin's not quite up to your taste. You see, you've
bin badly pampered by mother. I might say that she's forever spiled you
for plain grub and common cookin'."

"Your mother's the best cook that ever lived or breathed," said the
Deacon earnestly. "She kin make plain cornbread taste better than
anybody else's pound cake. But you do well, Si, considerin' that your
mother could never git you to do so much204 as help peel a mess o'
'taters. Your coffee'd tan a side o' sole leather, and there's enough
grease about your meat to float a skiff; but I didn't expect to live at
a hotel when I come down here."

The Deacon strolled down near Regimental Headquarters. An Aid came up
and, saluting the Colonel, said:

"Colonel, the General presents his compliments, and instructs me to say
that he has received orders from Division Headquarters to send details
of a Corporal and five men from each regiment there to morrow morning at
7 o'clock for fatigue duty. You will furnish yours."

"Very good," answered the Colonel, returning the salute. "Adjutant,
order the detail."

"Sergeant-Major," said the Adjutant, after a momentary glance at his
roster, "send an order to Capt, McGillicuddy, of Co. Q, for a Corporal
and five men for fatigue duty, to report at Division Headquarters at 7
to-morrow morning."

The Deacon walked toward Co. Q's quarters, and presently saw the Orderly
hand the Captain the order from the Colonel.

"Orderly-Sergeant," said the Captain, "detail a Corporal and five men to
report for fatigue duty at Division Headquarters to-morrow at 7
o'clock."

The Orderly-Sergeant looked over his roster, and then walked down to
Si's residence.

"Klegg," said he, "you will report for fatigue duty at Division
Headquarters to-morrow at 7 o'clock with five men. You will take Shorty,
Simmons, Sullivan, Tomkins and Wheeler with you."

"Very good, sir," said Si, saluting.205

"Si," said his father, with a quizzical smile, "I've bin wonderin', ever
since I heard that you wuz an officer, how much o' the army you
commanded. Now I see that if it wuz turned upside down you'd be on the
very top."

"He leads the army when it goes backward," interjected Shorty.

"Gracious, Pap," said Si, good-humoredly, "I haven't rank enough to get
me behind a saplin' on the battlefield. The Colonel has the pick o' the
biggest tree, the Lieutenant-Colonel and Major take the next; the
Captains and Lieutenants take the second growth, and the Sergeants have
the saplins. I'm lucky if I git so much as a bush."

"Old Rosecrans must have a big saw-log," said his father.

"Not much saw-log for old Rosey," said Si, resenting even a joking
disparagement upon his beloved General. "During the battle he wuz
wherever it wuz hottest, and on horseback, too. Wherever the firm' wuz
the loudest he'd gallop right into it. His staff was shot down all
around him, but he never flinched. I tell you, he's the greatest General
in the world."

The next morning after breakfast, and as Si and Shorty were preparing to
go to Division Headquarters, Si said:

"Pap, you just stay at home and keep house to day. Keep your eyes on the
boys; I tell it to you in confidence, for I wouldn't for the world have
it breathed outside the company, that Co. Q's the most everlastin' set
o' thieves that ever wore uniform. Don't you ever say a word about it
when you get206 home, for it'd never do to have the boys' folks know
anything about it. I'd break their hearts. Me and Shorty, especially
Shorty, are the only honest ones in the company. The other fellers'd
steal the house from over your head if you didn't watch 'em."

"That's so," asseverated Shorty. "Me and Si especially me is the only
honest ones in the company. We're the only ones you kin really trust."

"I'd be sorry to think that Si had learned to steal," said the Deacon
gravely, at which Shorty could not resist the temptation to give Si a
furtive kick. "But I'll look out for thieves. We used to have lots o'
them in Posey County, but after we hung one or two, and rid some others
on rails, the revival meetin's seemed to take hold on the rest, and they
got converted."

"Something like that ought to be done in the army," murmured Shorty.

"When you want anything to eat you know where to git it," said Si, as
they moved off. "We'll probably be back in time to git supper."

The Deacon watched the squad march away, and then turned to think how he
would employ himself during the day. He busied himself for awhile
cleaning up the cabin and setting things to rights, and flattered
himself that his housekeeping was superior to his son's. Then he decided
to cut some wood. He found the ax, "condemned" it for some time as to
its dullness and bad condition, but finally attacked with it a tree
which had been hauled up back of the company line for fuel. It was hard
work, and presently he sat down to rest. Loud words of command came from
just beyond the hill, and he walked207 over there to see what was going
on. He saw a regiment drilling, and watched it for some minutes with
interest. Then he walked back to his work, but found to his amazement
that his ax was gone. He could see nobody around on whom his suspicions
could rest.

"Mebbe somebody's borrowed it," he said, "and will bring it back when
he's through usin' it. If he don't I kin buy a better ax for 10 or 12
bits. Somebody must have axes for sale 'round here somewhere."

He waited awhile for the borrower to return the tool, but as he did not,
he gathered up a load of wood and carried it up to the cabin.

"The boys'l be mighty hungry when they git back this evenin'," said he
to himself. "I'll jest git up a good supper for 'em. I'll show Si that
the old man knows some p'ints about cookin', even if he hain't bin in
the army, that'll open the youngster's eyes."

He found a tin pan, put in it a generous supply of beans, and began
carefully picking them over and blowing the dust out, the same as he had
often seen his wife do. Having finished this to his satisfaction, he set
down the pan and went back into the cabin to get the kettle to boil them
in. When he returned he found that pan and beans had vanished, and again
he saw no one upon whom he could fix his suspicions. The good Deacon
began to find the "old Adam rising within him," but as a faithful member
of the church he repressed his choler.

"I can't hardly believe all that Si and Shorty said about the dishonesty
of Co. Q," he communed with208 himself. "Many o' the boys in it I know
they're right from our neighborhood. Good boys as ever lived, and honest
as the day is long. Some o' them belonged to our Sunday school. I can't
believe that they've turned out bad so soon. Yet it looks awful
suspicious. The last one I see around here was Jed Baskins. His father's
a reggerly ordained preacher. Jed never could 've took them beans. But
who on airth done it?"

The Deacon carefully fastened the door of the cabin, and proceeded with
his camp-kettle to the spring to get some water. He found there quite a
crowd, with many in line waiting for their chance at the spring. He
stood around awhile awaiting his chance, but it did not seem to get any
nearer. He said something about the length of time it took, and a young
fellow near remarked:

"Here, Uncle, give me your kittle. I'll git it filled for you."

Without a thought the Deacon surrendered the kettle to him, and he took
his place in line. The Deacon watched him edging up toward the spring
for a minute or two, and then his attention was called to a brigade
manuvering in a field across the river. After awhile he thought again
about his kettle, and looked for the kindly young man who had
volunteered to fill it. There were several in the line who looked like
him, but none whom he could positively identify as him.

"Which o' you boys got my kittle?" he inquired, walking along the line.

"Got your kittle, you blamed teamster," they an swered crossly. "Go away
from here. We won't209 allow teamsters at this spring. It's only for
soldiers. Go to your own spring."

His kettle was gone, too. That was clear. As the Deacon walked back to
the cabin he was very hot in the region of his collar. He felt quite
shame faced, too, as to the way the boys would look on his management,
in the face of the injunctions they had given him at parting. His temper
was not improved by discovering that while he was gone someone had
carried off the bigger part of the wood he had laboriously chopped and
piled up in front of the cabin. He sat down in the doorway and meditated
angrily:

"I'll be dumbed (there, I'm glad that Mariar didn't hear me say that.
I'm afeared I'm gittin' to swear just like these other fellers). I'll be
dumbed if I ever imagined there wuz sich a passel o' condemned thieves
on the face o' the airth. And they all seem sich nice, gentlemanly
fellers, too. What'll we do with them when they git back home?"

Presently he roused himself up to carry out his idea of getting a good
meal ready for the boys by the time they returned, tired and hungry. He
rummaged through the cabin, and came across an old tin bucket partially
filled with scraps of paper. There did not seem to be anything of value
in it, and he tossed the contents on the smoldering fire. Instantly
there was an explosion which took the barrel off the top of the chimney,
sent the stones rattling down, filled the room full of smoke, singed the
Deacon's hair and whiskers, and sped him out of the cabin in great
alarm. A crowd quickly gathered to see what was the matter. Just then Si
appeared at the head of his squad. He and Shorty hurried to the scene of
the disturbance.210


210 (71K)

"What is the matter, Pap?" Si asked anxiously. "Why," explained his
father, "I was lookin' round for something to git water in, and I found
an old tin bucket with scraps o' paper in. I throwed them in the fire,
and I'm feared I busted your fireplace all to pieces, But I'll help you
to fix it up agin," he added deprecatingly.

"But you ain't hurt any, are you, Pap?" asked Si,211 anxiously examining
his father, and ignoring all thought as to the damage to the dwelling.

"No," said his father cheerfully. "I guess I lost a little hair, but I
could spare that. It was about time to git it cut, anyway. I think we
kin fix up the fireplace, Si."

"Cuss the fireplace, so long's you're all right," answered Si. "A little
mud 'll straighten that out. You got hold o' the bucket where me and
Shorty 've bin savin' up our broken cartridges for a little private
Fourth o' July some night."

"But, Si," said the Deacon sorrowfully, determined to have it out at
once. "They're bigger thieves than you said there wuz. They stole your
ax but I'll buy you a better one for 10 or 12 bits; they took your pan
and beans, an' took your camp-kittle, and finally all the wood that I'd
cut."

He looked so doleful that the boys could not help laughing.

"Don't worry about them, Pap," said Si cheer fully. "We'll fix them all
right. Let's go inside and straighten things up, and then we'll have
some thing to eat."

"But you can't git nothin' to eat," persisted the Deacon, "because
there's nothin' to cook in."

"We'll have something, all the same," said Shorty, with a wink of
enjoyable anticipation at Si.

The two boys carefully stowed away their overcoats, which were rolled up
in bundles in a way that would be suspicious to a soldier. They got the
interior of the cabin in more presentable shape, and then Shorty went
out and produced a camp-kettle from somewhere, in which they made their
coffee.212

When this was ready, they shut the door and care fully unrolled their
overcoats. A small sugar-cured ham, a box of sardines, a can of peaches,
and a couple of loaves of fresh, soft bread developed.

"Yum-yum!" murmured Shorty, gloating over the viands.

"Where in the world did you git them, boys?" asked the Deacon in
wonderment.213

"Eat what is set before you, and ask no questions, for conscience's
sake, Pap," said Si, slicing off a piece of the ham and starting to
broil it for his father. "That's what you used to tell me."

"Si," said the father sternly, as an awful suspicion moved in his mind,
"I hope you didn't steal 'em."

"Of course, not, Pap. How kin you think so?"

"Josiah Klegg," thundered the father, "tell me how you came by them
things."

"Well, Pap," said Si, considerably abashed, "it was something like this:
Our squad was set to work to unload a car o' Christian Commission
things. Me and Shorty pulled off our overcoats and laid them in a
corner. When we got through our work and picked up our coats we found
these things in them. Some bad men had hid them there, thinkin' they wuz
their overcoats. We thought the best way wuz to punish the thieves by
takin' the things away with us. Now, here's a piece o' ham briled almost
as nice as mother could do. Take it, and cut you off a slice of that
soft bread."

"Si, the receiver's as bad as the thief. I won't touch it."

"Pap, the harm's been done. No matter who done it, the owner'll never
see his victuals agin. Jest as like he cribbed 'em from somebody else.
These Christian Commission things wuz sent down for us soljers, anyhow.
We'd better have 'em than the bummers around the rear. They'll spile and
be wasted if you don't eat 'em, and that'd be a sin."

Trying to Conquer the Deacon's Scruples. 212

The savory ham was very appetizing, the Deacon was very hungry, and the
argument was sophistical.

"I'll take it, Si," said he with a sigh. "I don't214 wonder that the
people down here are rebels and all that sort o' thing. It's in the air.
I've felt my principles steadily weakenin' from the time I crossed the
Ohio River."



CHAPTER XVIII. THE DEACON IS SHOCKED HE IS CAUGHT WITH THE GOODS ON HIM

AND IS RESCUED JUST IN TIME.

WITH the Deacon's assistance, the chimney was soon rebuilt, better than
ever, and several homelike improvements were added. The lost utensils
were also replaced, one by one. The Deacon was sometimes troubled in his
mind as to where the pan, the camp-kettle, etc., came from. Si or Shorty
would simply bring in one of them, with a sigh of satisfaction, and add
it to the house hold stock. The Deacon was afraid to ask any questions.

One day, however, Shorty came in in a glow of excitement, with a new ax
in his hand.

"There; isn't she a daisy," he said, holding it up and testing the edge
with his thumb. "None o' your old sledges with no more edge than a maul,
that you have to nigger the wood off with. Brand new, and got an edge
like a razor. You kin chop wood with that, I tell you."

"It's a tolerable good ax. Wuth about 10 bits," said the Deacon,
examining the ax critically. "Last ax I bought from Ol Taylor cost 12
bits. It was a better one. How much'd you give for this? I'll pay it
myself."

'how Much'd You Give for This?' 216

"Do you know Jed Baskins thinks himself the216 best eucher player in the
200th Ind.," said Shorty, forgetting himself in the exultation of his
victory. "Jed Baskins the Rev. Jared Baskins's son a eucher player,"
gasped the Deacon. "Why, his father'd no more tech a card than he would
a coal o' fire. Not so much, for I've often heard him say that a coal o'
fire kin only burn the hands, while cards scorch the soul."

"Well, Jed," continued Shorty, "bantered me to play three games out o'
five for this here ax agin my galvanized brass watch. We wuz boss and
hoss on the first two games; on the saw-off we had four pints apiece. I
dealt and turned up the seven o' spades. Jed ordered me up, and then
tried to ring in on me a right bower from another deck, but I knowed he
hadn't it, because I'd tried to ketch it in the deal, but missed it an'
slung it under the table. I made Jed play fair, and euchered him, with
only two trumps in my hand. Jed's a mighty slick hand with the
pasteboards, but he meets his boss in your Uncle Ephraim. I didn't learn
to play eucher in the hay lofts o' Bean Blossom Crick for nothin', I kin
tell you."

An expression of horror came into Deacon Klegg's face, and he looked at
Shorty with severe disapproval, which was entirely lost on that worthy,
who continued to prattle on:

"Jed Baskins kin slip in more cold decks on green horns than any boy I
ever see. You'd think he'd spent his life on a Mississippi steamboat or
follerin' a circus. You remember how he cleaned out them Maumee Muskrats
at chuck-a-luck last pay-day? Why, there wuzn't money enough left in one
company to buy postage stamps for their letters home. You know how he
done it? Why, that galoot of a citizen gambler that we tossed in a
blanket down there by Nashville, and then rid out o' camp on a rail,
learned him how to finger the dice. I was sure some o' them Maumee smart
Alecks'd git on to Jed, but they didn't. I declare they wouldn't see a
six-mule team if it druv right across the board afore 'em. But I'm onto
him every minit. I told him when he tried to ring in that jack on me
that he218 didn't know enough about cards to play with our Sunday school
class on Bean Blossom Crick."

"Josiah Klegg," said the Deacon sternly, "do you play cards?"

"I learned to play jest a little," said Si deprecatingly, and getting
very red in the face. "I jest know the names o' the cards, and a few o'
the rules o' the game."

"I'm surprised at you," said the Deacon, "after the careful way you wuz
brung up. Cards are the devil's own picture-books. They drag a man down
to hell jest as sure as strong drink. Do you own a deck o' cards?"

"No, sir," replied Si. "I did have one, but I throwed it away when we
wuz goin' into the battle o' Stone River."

"Thank heaven you did," said the Deacon devoutly. "Think o' your goin'
into battle with them infernal things on you. They'd draw death to you
jest like iron draws lightnin'."

"That's what I was afeared of," Si confessed.

"Now, don't you ever touch another card," said the Deacon. "Don't you
ever own another deck. Don't you insult the Lord by doin' things when
you think you're safe that you wouldn't do when you're in danger and
want His protection."

"Yes, sir," responded Si very meekly. The Deacon was so excited that he
pulled out his red bandanna, mopped his face vigorously, and walked out
of the door to get some fresh air. As his back was turned, Si reached
slily up to a shelf, pulled down a pack of cards, and flung them behind
the back-log.

"I didn't yarn to Pap when I told him I didn't219 own a deck," he said
to Shorty. "Them wuzn't really our cards. I don't exactly know who they
belonged to."

The good Deacon was still beset with the idea of astonishing the boys
with a luxurious meal cooked by himself, without their aid, counsel or
assistance. His failure the first time only made him the more
determined. While he conceded that Si and Shorty did unusually well with
the materials at their command, he had his full share of the conceit
that possesses every man born of woman that, without any previous
training or experience, he can prepare food better than anybody else who
attempts to do it. It is usually conceded that there are three things
which every man alive believes he can do better than the one who is
engaged at it. These are:

1. Telling a story;

2. Poking a fire;

3. Managing a woman.

Cooking a meal should be made the fourth of this category.

One day Si and Shorty went with the rest of Co. Q on fatigue duty on the
enormous fortifications, the building of which took up so much of the
Army of the Cumberland's energies during its stay around Murfreesboro'
from Jan. 3 to June 24, 1863. Rosecrans seemed suddenly seized with
McClellan's mania for spade work, and was piling up a large portion of
Middle Tennessee into parapet, bastion and casemate, lunet, curtain,
covered-way and gorge, according to the system of Vauban. The 200th Ind.
had to do its unwilling share of this, and Si and Shorty worked off some
of their superabundant220 energy with pick and shovel. They would come
back at night tired, muddy and mad. They would be ready to quarrel with
and abuse everybody and every thing from President Lincoln down to the
Commissary-Sergeant and the last issue of pickled beef and bread
especially the Commissary-Sergeant and the rations. The good Deacon
sorrowed over these manifestations. He was intensely loyal. He wanted to
see the soldiers satisfied with their officers and the provisions made
for their comfort.

He would get up a good dinner for the boys, which would soothe their
ruffled tempers and make them more satisfied with their lot.

He began a labored planning of the feast. He looked over the larder, and
found there pork, corned beef, potatoes, beans, coffee, brown sugar, and
hard tack.

Deacon Klegg Looks over the Larder. 220

"Good, substantial vittles, that stick to the ribs," he muttered to
himself, "and I'll fix up a good mess o' them. But the boys ought to
have something of a treat once in a while, and I must think up some way
to give it to 'em."

He pondered over the problem as he carefully cleaned the beans, and set
them to boiling in a kettle over the fire. He washed some potatoes to
put in the ashes and roast. But these were too common place viands. He
wanted something that would be luxurious.

"I recollect," he said to himself finally, "seein' a little store, which
some feller 'd set up a little ways from here. It's a board shanty, and
I expect he's got a lots o' things in it that the boys'd like, for
there's nearly always a big crowd around it. I'll221 jest fasten up the
house, and walk over there while the beans is a-seethin', and see if I
can't pick up something real good to eat."

He made his way through the crowd, which seemed to him to smell of
whisky, until he came to the shelf across the front, and took a look at
the222 stock. It seemed almost wholly made up of canned goods, and boxes
of half-Spanish cigars, and play ing-cards.

"Don't seem to ba much of a store, after all," soliloquized the Deacon,
after he had surveyed the display. "Ain't a patchin' to Ol Taylor's.
Don't see anything very invitin' here. O, yes, here's a cheese. Say,
Mister, gi' me about four pounds o' that there cheese."

"Plank down your $2 fust, ole man." responded the storekeeper. "This is
a cash store cash in advance every time. Short credits make long
friends. Hand me over your money, and I'll hand you over the cheese."

"Land o' Goshen, four bits a pound for cheese," gasped the Deacon. "Why,
I kin git the best full-cream cheese at home for a bit a pound."

"Why don't you buy your cheese at home, then, old man?" replied the
storekeeper. "You'd make money, if you didn't have to pay freight to
Murfreesboro'. Guess you don't know much about gettin' goods down to the
front. But I hain't no time to argy with you. If you don't want to buy,
step back, and make room for someone that does. Business is lively this
mornin'. Time is money. Small profits and quick returns, you know. No
time to fool with loafers who only look on and ask questions."

"Strange way for a storekeeper to act," muttered the Deacon. "Must've
bin brung up in a Land Office. He couldn't keep store in Posey County a
week. They wouldn't stand his sass." Then aloud: "You may gi' me two
pounds o' cheese."

"Well, why don't you plank down the rhino?" said223 the storekeeper
impatiently. "Put up your money fust, and then you'll git the goods.
This ain't no credit concern with a stay-law attachment. Cash in advance
saves bookkeeping."

"Well, I declare," muttered the Deacon, as he fished a greenback out of
a leather pocketbook fastened with a long strap. "This is the first time
I ever had to pay for things before I got 'em."

"Never went to a circus, then, old man, or run for office," replied the
storekeeper, and his humor was rewarded with a roar of laughter.
"Anything else? Speak quick or step back."

"I'll take a can o' them preserved peaches and a quart jug o' that
genuine Injianny maple molasses," said the Deacon desperately, naming
two articles which seemed much in demand.

"All right; $2 for the peaches, and $2 more for the molasses."

"Sakes alive!" ejaculated the Deacon, producing the strapped pocketbook
again. "Five dollars gone, and precious little to show for it."

He took his jug and his can, and started back to the cabin. A couple of
hundred yards away he met a squad of armed men marching toward the
store, under the command of a Lieutenant. He stepped to one side to let
them pass, but the Lieutenant halted them, and asked authoritatively:

"What have you got there, sir?"

"Jest some things I've been buyin' for the boys' dinner," answered the
Deacon.

"Indeed! Very likely," remarked the Lieutenant sarcastically. He struck
the jug so sharply with his sword that it was broken, and the air was
filled224 with a powerful odor of whisky. The liquor splashed over the
Deacon's trousers and wet them through. The expression of anger on his
face gave way to one of horror. He had always been one of the most rigid
of Temperance men, and fairly loathed whisky in all shapes and uses.

"Just as I supposed, you old vagabond," said the Lieutenant,
contemptuously. "Down here sneaking whisky into camp. We'll stop that
mighty sudden."

He knocked the can of peaches out of the Deacon's arms and ran his sword
into it. A gush of whisky spurted out. The Sergeant took the package of
cheese away and broke it open, revealing a small flask of liquor.

"The idea of a man of your age being engaged in such business," said the
Lieutenant indignantly. "You ought to be helping to keep the men of the
army sober, instead of corrupting them to their own great injury. You
are doing them more harm than the rebels."

The Deacon was too astonished and angry to reply. Words utterly failed
him in such a crisis.

"Take charge of him, Corporal," commanded the Lieutenant. "Put him in
the guard-house till tomorrow, when we'll drum him out of camp, with his
partner, who is running that store."

The Corporal caught the Deacon by the arm roughly and pulled him into
the rear of the squad, which hurried toward the store. The crowd in
front had an inkling of what was coming. In a twinkling of an eye they
made a rush on the store, each man snatched a can or a jug, and began
bolting away as fast as his legs could carry him.

The storekeeper ran out the back way, and tried to make his escape, but
the Sergeant of the provost squad threw down his musket and took after
him. The storekeeper ran fast, inspired by fear and the desire to save
his ill-gotten gains, but the Sergeant ran faster, and presently brought
him back, panting and trembling, to witness the demolition of his
property. The shanty was being torn down, each plank as it came off
being snatched up by the soldiers to carry off and add to their own
habitations. The "canned fruit" was being punched with bayonets, and the
jugs smashed by gun-butts.

"You are a cheeky scoundrel," said the Lieutenant, addressing himself to
the storekeeper, "to come down here and try to run such a dead-fall
right in the middle of camp. But we'll cure you of any such ideas as
that. You'll find it won't pay at all to try such games on us. You'll go
to the guard house, and to-morrow we'll shave your head and drum you and
your partner there out of camp."

"I ain't no partner o' his," protested the Deacon earnestly. "My name's
Josiah Klegg, o' Posey County, Injianny. I'm down here on a visit to my
son in the 200th Injianny Volunteer Infantry. I'm a Deacon in the
Baptist Church, and a Patriarch of the Sons o' Temperance. It'd be the
last thing in the world I'd do to sell whisky."

"That story won't wash, old man," said the Lieutenant. "You were caught
in the act, with the goods in your possession, and trying to deceive
me."

He turned away to order the squad forward. As they marched along the
storekeeper said to the Deacon:226

"I'm afraid they've got me dead to rights, old man, but you kin git out.
Just keep up your sanctimonious appearance and stick to your Deacon
story, and you'll git off. I know you. I've lived in Posey County
myself. I'm going to trust you. I've already made a clean big profit on
this venture, and I've got it right down in my pocket. In spite of all
they've spiled, I'd be nigh $500 ahead o' the game if I could git out o'
camp with what I've got in my sock. But they'll probably search me and
confiscate my wad for the hospital. You see, I've been through this
thing before. I'm goin' to pass my pile over to you to take keer of till
I'm through this rumpus. You play fair with me, an' I'll whack up with
you fair and square, dollar for dollar. If you don't I'll follow you for
years."

"I wouldn't tech a dirty dollar of yours for the world," said the Deacon
indignantly; but this was lost on the storekeeper, who was watching the
Lieutenant.

"Don't say a word," he whispered; "he's got his eye on us. There it is
in your overcoat pocket."

In the meantime they had arrived at the guard house. The Sergeant
stepped back, took the store keeper roughly by the shoulders, and shoved
him up in front of a tall, magisterial-looking man wearing a Captain's
straps, who stood frowning before the door.

"Search him," said the Captain briefly.

The Sergeant went through the storekeeper's pockets with a deftness that
bespoke experience. He produced a small amount of money, some of it in
fractional currency and Confederate notes, a number227 of papers, a plug
of tobacco, and some other articles. He handed these to the Captain, who
hastily looked over them, handed back the tobacco and other things and
the small change.

"Give these back to him," he said briefly. "Turn the rest of the money
over to the hospital fund. Where's our barber? Shave his head, call up
the fifers and drummers, and drum him out of camp at once. I haven't
time to waste on him."

Before he had done speaking the guards had the storekeeper seated on a
log, and were shearing his hair.

"General," shouted the Deacon.

"That's a Cap'n, you fool," said one of the guards.

"Captain, then," yelled the Deacon.

"Who is that man?" said the Captain severely.

"He's his partner," said the Lieutenant.

"Serve him the same way," said the Captain shortly, turning to go.

The Deacon's knees smote together. He, a Deacon of the Baptist Church,
and a man of stainless repute at home, to have his head shaved and
drummed out of camp. He would rather die at once. The guards had laid
hands on him.

"Captain," he yelled again, "it's all a horrible mistake. I had nothin'
to do with this man."

"Talk to the Lieutenant, there," said the Captain, moving off. "He will
attend to you."

The Lieutenant was attentively watching the barbering operation. "Cut it
close closer yet," he admonished the barber.

"Lieutenant! Lieutenant!" pleaded the Deacon, awkwardly saluting.

"Stand back; I'll attend to you next," said the228 Lieutenant
impatiently. "Now, tie his hands behind him."

The Lieutenant turned toward the Deacon, and the barber picked up his
shears and made a step in that direction. Just in the extremity of his
danger the Deacon caught sight of the Captain of Co. Q walking toward
Headquarters.

"Capt. McGillicuddy! Capt. McGillicuddy! come here at once! Come quick!"
he called in a voice which had been trained to long-distance work on the
Wabash bottoms.

Capt. McGillicuddy looked up, recognized the waving of the Deacon's
bandanna, and hastened thither. Fortunately he knew the Provost
officers; there were explanations all around, and profuse apologies, and
just as the fifes and drums struck up the "Rogue's March" behind the
luckless storekeeper, who had to step off in front of a line of leveled
bayonets, the Deacon walked away arm-in-arm with the Captain.

"I'm not goin' to let go o' you till I'm safe back in our own place," he
said. "My gracious! think of havin' my head shaved and marched off the
way that feller's bein'."

He walked into the cabin and stirred up the beans.

"The water's biled off," said he to himself, "but they hain't been in
nigh as hot a place as I have. I guess the boys'll have to do with a
plain dinner to day. I'm not goin' to stir out o' this place agin unless
they're with me."

He put his hand into his pocket for his bandanna and felt the roll of
bills, which he had altogether forgotten in his excitement.

His face was a study.



CHAPTER XIX. THE DEACON IS TROUBLED DISPOSES OF THE $500 "WHISKY" MONEY
AND GOES OUT FORAGING.

FROM the door of the cabin the Deacon could see the fort on which the
boys were piling up endless cubic yards of the red soil of Tennessee. As
he watched them, with an occasional glance at the beans seething in the
kettle, fond memories rose of a woman far away on the Wabash, who these
many years had thought and labored for his comfort in their home, while
he labored within her sight on their farm. It was the first time in
their long married life that he had been away from her for such a length
of time.

"I believe I'm gittin' real homesick to see Mariar," he said with a
sigh. "I'd give a good deal for a letter from her. I do hope everything
on the farm's all right. I think it is. I'm a little worried about Brown
Susy, the mare, but I think she'll pick up as the weather settles. I
hope her fool colt, that I've give Si, won't break his leg nor nothin'
while I'm away."

Presently he saw the men quit work, and he turned to get ready for the
boys. He covered the rough table with newspapers to do duty for a cloth;
he had previously scoured up the tinware to its utmost brightness and
cleanliness, and while the boys were230 washing off the accumulations of
clay, and liberally denouncing the man who invented fort building, and
even West Point for educating men to pursue the nefarious art, he dished
out the smoking viands.

"Upon my word, Pap," said Si, as he helped him self liberally, "you do
beat us cookin' all holler. Your beans taste almost as good as mother's.
We must git you to give us some lessons."

"Yes; you're a boss cook," said Shorty, with his mouth full. "Better not
let Gen. Rosecrans find out how well you kin bile beans, or he'll have
you drafted, and keep you with him till the end o' the war."

After supper they lighted their pipes and seated themselves in front of
the fire.

"How'd you git along to-day, Pap," said Si. "I hope you didn't have no
trouble."

The Deacon took his pipe out of his mouth, blew a cloud of smoke, and
considered a moment before replying. He did not want to recount his
experiences, at least, until he had digested them more thoroughly. He
was afraid of the joking of the boys, and still more that the story
would get back home. Then, he was still sorely perplexed about the
disposition of the money. He had not thought that out yet, by a great
deal. But the question was plump and direct, and concealment and untruth
were alike absolutely foreign to his nature. After a minute's pause he
decided to tell the whole story.

"Well, boys," he began with a shamefaced look, "I had the flamboyantest
racket to-day I've had yit."

The two boys took their pipes out and regarded him with surprise.231

"Yes," he continued, with a deep sigh, "it laid away over gittin' down
here, and my night in the guard-house, even. You see, after you went
away I began to think about gittin' up something a little extry for you
to eat. I thought about it for awhile, and then recollected seein' a
little grocery that'd been set up nigh here in a board shanty."

"Yes, we know about it," said Shorty, exchanging a look with Si.

"Well," continued the Deacon, "I concluded that I'd jest slip over
there, and mebbe I could find232 something that'd give variety to your
pork and beans. He didn't seem to have much but canned goods, and his
prices wuz jest awful. But I wuz de termined to git something, and I
finally bought a jug o' genuine Injianny maple molasses, a chunk o'
cheese and a can o' peaches. I had to pay $5 for it. He said he had to
charge high prices on account o' freight rates, and I remembered that I
had some trouble in gittin' things down here, and so I paid him. He wuz
very peart and sassy, and it was take-it-or-leave-it-and-be-plaguey-
quick-about-it all the time. But I paid my $5, gathered the things up,
and started back to the house. I hadn't got more'n 100 rods away when I
met one o' these officers with only one o' them things in his shoulder
straps."

"A First Lieutenant," interjected Si.

"Yes, they called him a Lieutenant. He spoke very bossy and cross to me,
and hit my jug a welt with his sword. He broke it, and what do you
suppose was in it?"

Hit My Jug a Welt With his Sword 231

"Whisky," said Si and Shorty simultaneously, with a shout of laughter.

"That's jest what it wuz. I wuz never so mortified in my life. I
couldn't say a word. The Lieutenant abused me for being a partner in
sellin' whisky to the soldiers me, Josiah Klegg, Patriarch of the Sons
o' Temperance, and a Deacon. While I wuz tryin' to tell him he jabbed
his sword into the can o' peaches, and what do you suppose was in that?"

"Whisky," yelled Si and Shorty, with another burst of laughter.

"That's jest what it wuz. Then one o' the Lieutenant's men jerked the
chunk o' cheese away and283 broke it open. And what do you suppose was
in that?"

"Whisky, of course," yelled the boys in uncontrollable mirth.

"That's jest what it was. I wuz so dumfounded that I couldn't say a
word. They yanked me around in behind the squad, and told me they'd
shave my head and drum me out o' camp. The Lieutenant took his men up to
the grocery and tore it down, and ketched the feller that wuz keepin'
it. They put him alongside o' me, and tuk us up to the guard house. On
the way he whispered to me that they wuz likely to salt him, 'cause they
knowed him, but I'd likely git off easy. He'd made $500 clean out o' the
business already, and had it in his clothes. He'd pass it over to me to
keep till the racket wuz over, when he'd divide fair and square with me.
I told him that I'd rather burn my hand off than tech a dirty dollar o'
his money, but he dropt it into my overcoat pocket all the same, and I
wuz so excited that I clean forgot about it, and brung it away with me.
When we got to the guard-house they tuk all the rest of his money away,
shaved his head, and drummed him out o' camp."

"Yes, we saw that," answered Si; "but didn't pay no attention to it.
They're drummin' some feller out o' camp nearly every day, for something
or other."

"I don't see that it does any good," said Shorty. "It'd be a heap better
to set 'em to work on the fortifications. That'd take the deviltry out
o' 'em."

"When they'd got through with him," continued the Deacon, "they Burned
their attention to me. I234 never wuz so scared in all my born days. But
luckily, jest in the nick o' time, I ketched sight o' Capt.
McGillicuddy, and hollered to him. He come up and explained things, and
they let me go, with lots o' apologies. When I got back to the house, I
felt for my handkerchief, and found that scalawag's roll o' bills, which
I'd clean forgot. Here it is."

'pulled out a Fat Roll of Greenbacks. 235

He pulled out a fat roll of crisp greenbacks. Si took them, thumbed them
over admiringly, counted them, and handed them to Shorty, who did the
same.

"Yes, there's $500 there," said Si. "What are you goin' to do with it,
Pap?"

"That's jest what's worrying the life out o' me," answered his father.
"By rights I ought to throw the condemned stuff into the fire, only I
hold it a great sin to destroy property of any kind."

"What, burn all that good money up?" said Shorty with a whistle. "You
don't live in an insane asylum when you're at home, do you?"

"'Twouldn't be right to burn it, Pap," said Si, who better understood
the rigidity of his father's principles. "It'd do a mighty sight o' good
somewhere."

"The money don't belong at all to that feller," mused the Deacon. "A man
can't have no property in likker. It's wet damnation, hell's broth, to
nourish murderers, thieves, and paupers. It is the devil's essence, with
which he makes widows and orphans. Every dollar of it is minted with
women's tears and children's cries of hunger. That feller got the money
by violatin' the law on the one hand and swindling the soldiers on the
other, and corruptin' them to their ruin. To give the money back to him
would be rewardin' him for his rascality. It'd be like235 givin' a thief
his booty, or a burglar his plunder, and make me his pardner."

"You're right there, Pap," assented Si. "You'd jest be settin' him up in
business in some other stand. Five hundred dollars'd give him a good
start. His hair'll soon grow agin."

"The worst of it," sighed Shorty, "is that it ain't good likker.
Otherwise it'd be different. But it's pizener than milk-sick or loco-
weed. It's aqua-fortis, fish-berries, tobacco juice and ratsbane. That
stuff'd eat a hole in a tin pan."236

"The Captain turned the rest o' his money over to the hospital,"
continued the Deacon. "I might do that."

"Never do it in the world, Pap," protested Si. "Better burn it up at
once. It'd be the next worst thing to givin' it back to him. It'd jest
be pamperin' and encouragin' a lot o' galoots that lay around the
hospitals to keep out o' fights. None o' the wounded or really sick'd
git the benefit of a cent of it. They wuz all sent away weeks ago to
Nashville, Louisville, and back home. You jest ought to see that bummer
gang. Last week me and Shorty wuz on fatigue duty down by one o' the
hospitals. There wuzzent nobody in the hospital but a few 'shell-fever'
shirks, who're too lazy to work on the fortifications, and we saw a
crowd of civilians and men in uniform set down to a finer dinner than
you kin git in any hotel. Shorty wanted to light some shells and roll in
amongst 'em, but I knowed that it'd jest make a muss that we'd have to
clean up afterward."

"But what am I going to do with it?" asked the Deacon despairingly. "I
don't want no money in my hands that don't belong to me, and especially
sich money as that, which seems to have a curse to every bill. If we
could only find out the men he tuk it from."

"Be about as easy as drivin' a load o' hay back into the field, and
fitting each spear o' grass back on the stalk from which it was cut,"
interjected Shorty.

"Or I might send it anonymously to the Baptist Board o' Missions,"
continued the Deacon.

"Nice way to treat the little heathens," objected Si. "Send them likker
money."237

The Deacon groaned.

"Tell you what we might do, Pap," said Si, as a bright idea struck him.
"There's a widder, a Union woman, jest outside the lines, whose house
wuz burned down by the rebels. She could build a splendid new house with
$100 better'n the one she wuz livin' in before. Send her $100.

"Not a bad idee," said the Deacon approvingly, as he poked the ashes in
his pipe with his little finger.

"And, Pap," continued Si, encouraged by the reception of this
suggestion, "there's poor Bill Ellerlee, who lost his leg in the fight.
He used to drink awful hard, and most of his money went down his throat.
He's got a wife and two small children, and they hain't a cent to live
on, except what the neighbors gives. Why not put up $200 in an express
pack age and send it to him, marked 'from an unknown friend?'"

"Good," accorded the Deacon.

"And Jim Pocock," put in Shorty, seeing the drift. "He's gone home with
a bullet through his breast. His folks are pretty poor. Why not send him
$100 the same way?"

"Excellent idee," said the father.

"That leaves $100 yit," said Si. "If you care to, you kin divide it
between Shorty and me, and we'll use it among the boys that got hurt,
and need some thing."

A dubious look came into the Deacon's face.

"You needn't be afeared of us, Pap," said Si, with a little blush. "I
kin promise you that we won't use a cent ourselves, but give every bit
where it is really needed."238

"I believe you, my son," said the Deacon heartily. "We'll do jest as you
say."

They spent the evening carrying their plan into execution.

At the 9 o'clock roll-call the Orderly-Sergeant announced:

"Co. Q to go out with a forage-train to-morrow morning."

This was joyful news a delightful variation from the toil on the
fortifications. "Taps" found every body getting his gun and traps ready
for an excursion into the country.

"You'd like to go with us, Pap, wouldn't you?" asked Si, as he looked
over his cartridge-box to see what it contained.

"Indeed I would," replied the father. "I'll go any where with you rather
than spend such another day in camp. You don't think you will see any
rebels, do you?" he asked rather nervously.

"Don't know; never kin tell," said Shorty oracularly. "Rebels is
anywhere you find 'em. Sometimes they're seldomer than a chaw of
terbaker in a Sunday school. You can't find one in a whole County. Then,
the first thing you know, they're thicker'n fleas on a dog's back. But
we won't likely see no rebels to-morrow. There ain't no great passel o'
them this side o' Duck River. Still, we'll take our guns along, jest
like a man wears a breast-pin on a dark night, because he's used to it."

"Can't you give me a gun, too? I think it'd be company for me," said the
Deacon.

"Certainly," said Si.

The Deacon stowed himself in the wagons with239 the rest the next
morning, and rode out with them through the bright sunshine, that gave
promise of the soon oncoming of Spring. For miles they jolted over the
execrable roads and through the shiftless, run-down country before they
found anything worth while putting in the wagons.

"Great country, Pap," said Si suggestively.

"Yes; it'd be a great country," said his father disdainfully, "if you
could put a wagonload o' manure on every foot and import some Injianny
men to take care of it. The water and the sunshine down here seem all
right, but the land and the people and the pigs and stock seem to be
cullin's throwed out when they made Injianny."

At length the train halted by a double log house of much more
pretentious character than any they had so far seen. There were a couple
of well-filled corn-cribs, a large stack of fodder, and other evidences
of plenty. The Deacon's practiced eye noticed that there was no stock in
the fields, but Si explained this by saying that everything on hoofs had
been driven off to supply the rebel army. "They're now trying to git a
corn-crib and a fodder-stack with four legs, but hain't succeeded so
far."

The Captain ordered the fence thrown down and the wagons driven in to be
filled. The surrounding horizon was scanned for signs of rebels, but
none appeared anywhere. The landscape was as tranquil, as peace-
breathing as a Spring morning on the Wabash, and the Deacon's mind
reverted to the condition of things on his farm. It was too wet to plow,
but he would like to take a walk over the fields and see how his wheat
had come out, and look over the240 peach-buds and ascertain how they had
stood the Winter. He noticed how some service-trees had already unfolded
their white petals, like flags of truce breaking the long array of green
cedars and rusty-brown oaks.

The company stacked arms in the road, the Captain went to direct the
filling of the wagons, and Si and Shorty started on a private
reconnoissance for something for their larder.

The Deacon strolled around the yard for awhile inspecting the buildings
and farm implements with an eye of professional curiosity, and arrived
at very unfavorable opinions. He then walked up on the porch of the
house, where a woman of about his own age sat in a split-bottom rocking-
chair knitting and viewing the proceedings with frowning eyes.

"Good day, ma'am," said he. "Warm day, ma'am."

"'Tain't as warm as it orter to be for sich fellers as yo'uns," she
snapped. "You'd better be in the brimstone pit if you had your just
deserts."

The Deacon always tried to be good-humored with an angry woman, and he
thought he would try the effect of a little pleasantry. "I'm a Baptist,
ma'am, and they say us Baptists are tryin' to put out that fire with
cold water."

"You a Babtist?" she answered scornfully. "The hot place is full o' jest
sich Babtists as yo'uns air, and they're making room for more. We'uns
air Babtists ourselves, but, thank the Lord, not o' your kind. Babtists
air honest people. Babtists don't go about the country robbin' and
murderin' and stealin' folks' corn. Don't tell me you air a Babtist,241
for I know you air a-lyin', and that's the next thing to killin' and
stealin'."

"But I am a Baptist," persisted the Deacon, "and have bin for 30 year
regular, free-will, close-communion, total-immersion Baptist. We have
some Campbellites, a few Six Principle Baptists, and some Hard Shells,
but the heft of us air jest plain, straight-out Baptists. But, speakin'
o' cold water, kin you give me a drink? I'm powerful dry."

"Thar's water down in the crick, thar," she said, with a motion of her
knitting in that direction. "It's as fur for me as it is for you. Go
down thar and drink all you like. Lucky you can't carry the crick away
with yo'uns. Yo'uns 'd steal it if yo'uns could."

"You don't seem to be in a good humor, ma'am," said the Deacon,
maintaining his pleasant demeanor and tone.

"Well, if you think that a passel o' nasty Yankees is kalkerlated to put
a lady in a good humor you're even a bigger fool than you look. But I
hain't no time to waste jawin' you. If you want a drink thar's the
crick. Go and drink your fill of it. I only wish it was a's'nic, to
pizen you and your whole army."

She suddenly stopped knitting, and bent her eyes eagerly on an opening
in the woods on a hill-top whence the road wound down to the house. The
Deacon's eyes followed hers, and he saw unmistakable signs of men in
butternut clothes. The woman saw that he noticed them, and her manner
changed.

"Come inside the house," she said pleasantly, "and I'll git you a
gourdful of water fresh from the spring."242

"Thankee, ma'am; I don't feel a bit dry," answered the Deacon, with his
eyes fastened on the hill top. "Si, Shorty, Capt. McGillicuddy," he
yelled.

"Shet your head, and come into the house this minit, you nasty Yankee,
or I'll slash your fool head off," ordered the woman, picking up a corn-
cutter the advantage of his position and ran up to him.

The Deacon was inside the railing around the porch, and he had not
jumped a fence for 20 years. But he cleared the railing as neatly as Si
could have done it, and ran bareheaded down the road, yelling at the top
of his voice.

He was not a minute too soon not soon enough. A full company of rebel
cavalry came dashing out of the woods, yelling like demons.

Without waiting to form, the men of Co. Q ran to their guns and began
firing from fence-corners and behind trees. Capt. McGillicuddy took the
first squad that he came to, and, running forward a little way, made a
hasty line and opened fire. Others saw the advantage of his position and
ran up to him.

The Deacon snatched up a gun and joined the Captain.

"I never wuz subject to the 'buck fever,'" he muttered to himself, "and
I won't allow myself to be now. I remember jest how Gineral Jackson told
his men to shoot down to New Orleans. I'm going to salt one o' them
fellers as sure as my name's Josiah Klegg."

He took a long breath, to steady himself, as he joined the Captain,
picked out a man on a bay horse that seemed to be the rebels' Captain,
and caught his breast fully through the hindsight before he243 pulled
the trigger. Through the smoke he saw his man tumble from his horse.

"Got him, anyway," he muttered; "now, how in the world kin I load this
plaguey gun agin?"

At that instant a rebel bullet bit out a piece of his ear, but he paid
no attention to it.

"Gi' me that cartridge," he said to the man next to him, who had just
bitten off the end of one; "I can't do it."

The man handed him the cartridge, which the Deacon rammed home, but
before he could find a cap the fight was over, and the rebels were seek
ing the shelter of the woods.

The Deacon managed to get a cap on his gun in time to take a long-
distance, ineffective shot at the rebels as they disappeared in the
woods.

They hastily buried one rebel who had been killed, and picked up those
who had been wounded and carried them into the house, where they were
made as comfortable as possible. Among them was the man whom the Deacon
had aimed at. He was found to have a wound through the fleshy part of
his hip, and proved to be the son of the woman of the house.

As soon as the fight was over, Si, full of solicitude, sought his
father. He found him wiping the blood from his ear with his bandanna.

"It's nothin', son; absolutely nothin'," said the old gentleman with as
much pride as any recruit. "Don't hurt as much as a scratch from a
briar. Some feller what couldn't write put his mark on me so's he'd know
me agin. But I fetched that feller on the bay hoss. I'm glad I didn't
kill him, but he'll keep out o' devilment for sometime.



CHAPTER XX. THE DEACON BUTTS IN ENFORCES THE EMANCIPATION PROCLAMATION.

"PAP," said Si, as they were riding back, comfortably seated on a load
of corn-fodder, "now that it's all over, I'm awfully scared about you. I
can't forgive myself for runnin' you up agin such a scrape. I hadn't no
idee that there wuz a rebel in the whole County. If anything had
happened you it'd just killed mother and the girls, and then I'd never
rested till I got shot myself, for I wouldn't wanted to live a minute."

"Pshaw, my son," responded his father rather testily; "you ain't my
guardeen, and I hope it'll be a good many years yit before you are. I'm
mighty glad that I went. There was something Providential in it. I'm a
good deal of a Quaker. I believe in the movin's of the spirit. The
spirit moved me very strongly to go with you, and I now see the purpose
in it. If I hadn't, them fellers might've got the bulge on you. I seen
them before any o' you did, and I fetched down their head devil, and I
feel that I helped you a good deal."

"Indeed you did," said Shorty earnestly. "You ought to have a brevet for
your 'conspicuous gallantry in action.' I think the Colonel will give
you one. You put an ounce o' lead to particularly good245 use in that
feller's karkiss. I only wish it'd bin a little higher up, where it'd a
measured him for a wooden overcoat."

"I'm awful glad I hit him jest where I did," responded the Deacon. "I
did have his heart covered with my sights, and then I pulled down a
little. He was pizen, I know; but I wanted to give him a chance to
repent."

"He'll repent a heap," said Shorty incredulously. "He'll lay around the
house for the next six months, studyin' up new deviltry, and what he
can't think of that secesh mother o' his'll put him up to. Co. Q, and
particularly the Hoosier's Rest, is the only place you'll find a
contrite heart and a Christian spirit cultivated."

"That reminds me," said Si; "we hain't licked the Wagonmaster yit for
throwin' cartridges down our chimbley."

"Blamed if that ain't so," said Shorty. "I knowed I'd forgotten some
little thing. It's bin hauntin' my mind for days. I'll jest tie a knot
in my handker chief to remember that I must tend to that as soon's we
git back."

"I'm quite sure that I don't want another sich a tussle," meditated the
Deacon. "I never heerd any thing sound so murderin' wicked as them
bullets. A painter's screech on a dark night or a rattler's rattle
wuzzent to be compared to 'em. It makes my blood run cold to think o'
'em. Then, if that feller that shot at me had wobbled his gun a little
to the left, Josiah Klegg's name would 've bin sculped on a slab o'
white marble, and Maria would 've bin the Widder Klegg. I wish the war
wuz over, and Si and Shorty246 safe at home. But their giddy young pates
are so full o' dumbed nonsense that there hain't no room for scare. But,
now that I'm safe through it, I wouldn't 've missed it for the best cow
on my place. After all, Providence sends men where they are needed, and
He certainly sent me out there.

"Then, I'll have a good story to tell the brethren and sisters some
night after prayer meetin's over. It'll completely offset that story
'bout my comin' so near gittin' my head shaved. How the ungodly247
rapscallions would've gloated over Deacon Klegg's havin' his head shaved
an' bein' drummed out o' camp. That thing makes me shiver worse'n the
whistlin' o' them awful bullets. But they can't say nothin' now. Deacon
Klegg's bin a credit to the church."

They were nearing camp. The Captain of Co. Q ordered:

"Corporal Klegg, take your wagon up that right-hand road to the
Quartermaster's corral of mules, and bring me a receipt for it."

Si turned the wagon off, and had gone but a few hundred yards, when he
and Shorty saw a house at a little distance, which seemed to promise to
furnish something eatable. He and Shorty jumped off and cut across the
fields toward it, telling the Deacon they would rejoin him before he
reached the picket-line, a mile or so ahead.

The Deacon jogged on, musing intently of the stirring events of the day,
until he was recalled to the things immediately around him by hearing a
loud voice shout:

"Stop, there, you black scoundrel! I've ketched ye. I'm gwine to blow
your onery head off."

He looked up and saw a man about his own age, dressed in butternut
homespun, and riding a fine horse. He wore a broad-brimmed slouch hat,
his clean-shaven face was cold and cruel, and he had leveled a double-
barreled shotgun on a fine-looking negro, who had leaped over from the
field into the middle of the road, and was standing there regard ing him
with a look of intense disappointment and248 fear.

I'm Gwine Ter Kill Ye, Right Here 246

"You devil's ape," continued the white man, with a torrent of profanity,
"I've ketched ye jest in the nick o' time. Ye wuz makin' for the Yankee
camp, and 'd almost got thar. Ye thought yer 40 acres and a mule wuz
jest in sight, did ye? Mebbe ye reckoned y'd git a white wife, and be an
officer in the Yankee army. I'm gwine to kill ye, right here, to stop
yer deviltry, and skeer off others that air o' the same mind."

"Pray God, don't kill me, massa," begged the negro. "I hain't done
nuffin' to be killed foh."

"Hain't done nothin' to be killed for!" shouted the white man, with more
oaths. "Do ye call sneakin' off to jine the enemy and settin' an example
to the other niggers nothin'? Git down on yer knees and say yer prayers,
if ye know any, for ye ain't a minnit to live."

The trembling negro dropped to his knees and be gan mumbling his
prayers.

"What's the matter here?" asked the Deacon of the teamster.

"O, some man's ketched his nigger tryin' to run away to our lines, an's
goin' to kill him," answered the teamster indifferently.

"Goin' to kill him," gasped the Deacon. "Are we goin' to 'low that?"

"'Tain't none o' my business," said the teamster coolly. "It's his
nigger; I reckon he's a right to do as he pleases."

"I don't reckon nothin' o' the kind," said the Deacon indignantly. "I
won't stand and see it done."

"Better not mix in," admonished the teamster. "Them air Southerners is
pretty savage folks, and249 don't like any meddlin' twixt them and their
niggers. What's a nigger, anyway?"

"Amounts to about as much as a white-livered teamster," said the Deacon
hotly. "I'm goin' to mix in. I'll not see any man murdered while I'm
around. Say, you," to the white man; "what are you goin' ter do with
that man?"

"Mind yer own bizniss," replied the white man, after a casual glance at
the Deacon, and seeing that he did not wear a uniform. "Keep yer mouth
shet if ye know when y're well off."

"O, massa, save me! save me!" said the negro, jumping up and running
toward the Deacon, who had slipped down from the fodder, and was
standing in the road.

"All right, Sambo; don't be scared. He sha'n't kill you while I'm
around," said the Deacon.

"I tell ye agin to mind yer own bizniss and keep yer mouth shet," said
the white man savagely. "Who air ye, anyway? One o' them sblinkin'
nigger-stealin' Abolitionists, comin' down here to rob us Southerners of
our property?"

He followed this with a torrent of profane denunciation of the "whole
Abolition crew."

"Look here, Mister," said the Deacon calmly, reaching back into the
wagon and drawing out a musket, "I'm a member o' the church and a
peaceable man. But I don't 'low no man to call me names, and I object to
swearin' of all kinds. I want to argy this question with you, quietly,
as between man and man."

He looked down to see if there was a cap on the gun.250

"What's the trouble 'twixt you and this man here?"

"That ain't no man," said the other hotly. "That's my nigger bought with
my money. He's my property. I've ketched him tryin' to run away tryin'
to rob me of $1,200 worth o' property and give it to our enemies. I'm
gwine to kill him to stop others from doin' the same thing."

"Indeed you're not," said the Deacon, putting his thumb on the hammer.

"Do you mean to say you'll stop me?" said the master, starting to raise
his shotgun, which he had let fall a little.

"Something like that, if not the exact words," an swered the Deacon
calmly, looking at the sights of the musket with an interested air.

The master resumed his volley of epithets.

The Deacon's face became very rigid, and the musket was advanced to a
more threatening position. "I told you before," he said, "that I didn't
allow no man to call me sich names. I give you warnin' agin. I'm liable
to fall from grace, as the Methodists say, any minnit. I'm dumbed sure
to if you call me an other name."

The master glared at the musket. It was clearly in hands used to guns,
and the face behind it was not that of a man to be fooled with beyond a
certain limit. He lowered his shotgun, and spoke sharply to the negro:

"Sam, git 'round here in front of the hoss, and put for home at once."

"Stay where you are, till I finish talkin' to this man," commanded the
Deacon. "Are you a loyal man?" he inquired of the master.251

"If ye mean loil to that rail-splittin' gorilla in Washington," replied
the master, hotly; "to that low-down, nigger-lovin', nigger-stealin'\x97"

"Shet right up," said the Deacon, bringing up his gun in a flash of
anger. "You sha'n't abuse the President o' the United States any more'n
you shall me, nor half so much. He's your President, whom you must honor
and respect. I won't have him blackguarded by an unhung rebel. You say
yourself you're a rebel. Then you have no right whatever to this man,
and I'm goin' to confiscate him in the name o' Abraham Lincoln,
President o' the United States, an' accordin' to his proclamation of
emancipation, done at Washington, District o' Columbia, in the year of
our Lord eighteen hundred and sixty-three and of our Independence the
87th.

"Now, you jest turn your hoss around and vacate these parts as quick as
you can, and leave me and this colored man alone. We're tired o' havin'
you 'round."

The master was a man of sense. He knew that there was nothing to do but
obey.



CHAPTER XXI. THE PERPLEXED DEACON TROUBLED TO KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH THE
FREEDMAN.

"WHAT is yer a-gwine tub do wid me, mas'r?" asked the negro, with a look
and an attitude curiously like a forlorn stray dog which had at last
found an owner and protector.

"Wish to gracious I knowed," answered the Deacon, knitting his brows in
thought. "I don't know as I've anything to do with you. I've about as
much idee what to do with you as I would with a whale in the Wabash
River. I'm neither John Brown nor a colonization society. I've about as
much use for a nigger, free or slave, as a frog has for a tail. You're
free now that's all there is of it. Nobody's got nothin' to do with you.
You've got to do with yourself that's all. You're your own master. You
go your way and let other folks go theirs."

In the simplicity of his heart the Deacon thought he had covered the
whole ground. What more could the man want, who had youth, health and
strength, than perfect liberty to go where he pleased and strive for
what he wanted?

The negro looked dazed and perplexed.

"Isn't yo' a-gwine tuh take me wid yo', mas'r?" he asked.

"Take you with me!" repeated the Deacon in253 astonishment and some
petulance. "Certainly not. I don't want you. And you mustn't call me
master. You mustn't call any man master. You're no longer a slave.
You're your own master. You're free; don't you understand?"

"But whah'm I tuh go?" reiterated the negro hopelessly.

"Go where you please," repeated the Deacon with impatience. "The whole
world's open to you. Go to the next County; go to Kaintucky, Injianny,
Ohio, Illinoy, Kamskatky, New Guiney, Jericho, or Polkinhorn's tanyard
if you like."

"Afo' God, I don't know what tuh do, or wha tuh go," said the negro
despairingly. "If yo' leab me here, I know dat ole mas'r 'll fin' me an'
done kill me daid."

"Niggers is like mules," remarked Groundhog savagely. "They only know
two places in the whole world: their master's place and somewhere else.
They want to run away from their master, but they hain't nary idee whar
to go when they run away. A hoss has more sense 'n either a nigger or a
mule. When he lights out he's got some idee o' where he wants t' go. I
tell you; jest give that nigger to me. I know what to do with him. I
know a man that'll give me $100 for him, and I'll whack up fair and
square with you."

"Shut up, you mullet-headed mule-whacker," said the Deacon irritably.
"You hain't got sense enough to take care o' mules right, let alone a
man. I wouldn't trust you an hour with the poorest team on my place.
I'll take care o' this man myself, at least, until I kin have a talk
with the boys. Here, you nigger, what's your name?"254

"Dey call me Sam, mas'r," replied the negro.

"Well, we'll change that. You're a free man, and I'll give you another
name. I'm goin' to call you Abraham\x97Abraham Lincoln the grandest name in
the world to-day. For short I'll call you Abe. You must stop callin' me,
or anybody, master, I tell you. You just call be Mister Klegg."

"Mistuh what?" said the negro, puzzled.

"Well, jest call me boss. Now, Abe, climb up into the wagon here, and
come along with me."255

"He can't git into no wagon o' mine," said the teamster surlily.
"Government wagons ain't no passenger coaches for runaway niggers. I
didn't hire to haul niggers on pleasure excursions. That ain't no part
of a white man's bizniss. Let him walk alongside."

"You dumbed citizen," said the Deacon angrily. He had been in camp long
enough to catch the feeling of the men toward the Quartermaster's
civilian employees. "This man shall ride in this wagon along side o' me,
and you'll drive us into camp, or I'll find out the reason why. Now jest
gether up your lines and start."

"I won't take no slack from no old Wabash hayseed like you," responded
the teamster cordially. "You can't boss me. You hain't no right. You
can't ring me in to help you steal niggers, unless you divide with me.
You come out here in the road and I'll punch that old sorrel-top head o'
your'n."

And the teamster pranced out and brandished his blacksnake whip
menacingly.

It had been many years since anybody on the Wabash had dared Deacon
Klegg to a match in fisticuffs. The memory of some youthful performances
of his had secured him respectful immunity. His last affair had been a
severe suppression of a noted bully who attempted to "crowd the
mourners" at a camp-meeting for the good order of which the Deacon felt
himself somewhat responsible. It took the bully six months to get over
it, and he went to the mourner's bench himself at the next revival.

The Deacon looked at the gesticulating teamster a minute, and the
dormant impulse of his youth256 stirred again within him. He laid his
gun down and calmly slid from the fodder to the ground. He pulled off
his coat and hat, and laid them on the wagon. He took the quid of
tobacco from his mouth, carefully selected a place for it on the edge of
the wagon-bed, laid it there on a piece of corn-husk, and walked toward
the teamster, rolling up his sleeves.

The effect upon the monarch of the mules was immediate and marked. He
stopped prancing around, and began to look alarmed.

"Now, don't you hit me," he yelled. "I'm the driver o' this team, and in
Gov'ment employ. If you hit me I'll have you courtmartialed."

Do You Hear? Git on Your Mule at Onct.'

"I'm not goin' to hit you," said the Deacon, raising a fist as big as a
small ham, "if you behave yourself. I want you to shut your mouth, and
git on your mule and start for camp. If you don't 'tend to your bizness,
or give me any more o' your sass, I'll pound the melt out o' you. D' you
hear? Git on your mule at onct."



frontispiecee (114K)

The teamster did as he was bid, and drove on till they came up to where
the boys were sitting on a fence-corner waiting for them.

Si had a brace of chickens tied together by the feet, and Shorty a crock
of honey in the comb, with a bag of saleratus biscuits and one of
cornmeal, and a number of strings of dried apples.

"Bin waitin' for you a good while, Pap. What kep' you so long? Break-
down?" said Si.

"No; had to stop and argy the fugitive slave law with a Southern
gentleman, and then debate niggers' civil rights with the teamster,"
said the Deacon. Then he told them the story. "Here's the257 darky," he
said, as he concluded. "Seems to be a purty fair sort of a farm-hand, if
he has sense enough to come in when it rains, which I misdoubt. What are
we goin' to do with him?"

"Do with him?" said Shorty. "Do everything with him. Take him into camp
first. Hire him out to the Quartermaster. Let him wait on the Captain.
Take him back home with you to help on the farm while Si's away.
Jehosephat, a big buck like that's a mighty handy thing to have about
the house. You kin learn him more tricks in a week than he'd learn with
his owner in a lifetime. Say, boy, what's your name?"

"S s-s," the negro began to say, but he caught the Deacon's eye upon
him, and responded promptly, "Abr'm Lincoln."

"I believe the nigger kin be taught," thought the Deacon. "Probably
this's some more o' Providence's workin's. Mebbe He brung this about
jest to give me my share o' the work o' raisin' the fallen race."

"Boys," said he, "I'm glad you've got something good to eat there. Them
chickens seem tol'ble young and fat. I hope you came by 'em honestly."

"Well, Pap," chuckled Si, "I don't know as a man who's been runnin'
around for another man's nigger, and got him, is jest in shape to ask
questions how other men got chickens and things; but I'll relieve your
mind by sayin' that we came honestly by 'em."

"Yes; thought it would be interestin' to try that way once, for a
change," said Shorty. "Besides, it wuz too near camp for any
hornswogglin'. These fellers right around camp are gettin' on to the
names258 o' the regiments. They're learnin' to notice 200th Ind. on our
caps, and' foller you right into camp, and go up to the Colonel. We're
layin' altogether too long in one place. The Army o' the Cumberland
oughter move."

"We paid full value, C. O. D.," added Si, "and not in Drake's Plantation
Bitters labels nor in busted Kalamazoo bank notes, neither. I think
fellers that pass patent-medicine labels and business-college
advertisements on these folks for money, oughter to be tied up by the
thumbs. It's mean."

"That's what I say, too," added Shorty, with virtuous indignation.
"'Specially when you kin git the best kind o' Confederit money from
Cincinnati for two cents on the dollar. I always lay in enough o' that
to do my tradin' with."

"What's that? What's that?" gasped the Deacon. "Passin' Confederate
money that you buy in Cincinnati at two cents on the dollar? Why, that's
counterfeitin'."

"That's drawin' it a little too fine," said Shorty argumentatively.
"These flabbergasted fools won't take greenbacks. I offered the woman
to-day some, and she said she wouldn't be found dead with 'em. She
wanted Confedrit money. You may call it counterfeitin', but the whole
Southern Confederacy is counterfeit, from its President down to the
lowest Corporil. A dollar or two more or less won't make no difference.
This feller at Cincinnati has got just as much right to print notes as
they have in Richmond."

"He prints 'em on better paper, his pictures are better, and he sells
his notes much cheaper, and I259 don't see why I shouldn't buy o' him
rather than o' them. I believe in patronizin' home industry."

"Si," said his father, in horrified tones, "I hope you hain't bin
passin' none o' the Cincinnati Confederate money on these people."

"I hope not, Pap. But then, you know, I ain't no bank-note detector. I
can't tell the Cincinnati kind from the Richmond kind, and I never try
very hard. All Confedrt money's alike to me, and I guess in the end
it'll be to them. Both kinds say they'll be paid six months after the
conclusion of peace be twixt the Confederate States and the United
States, and I guess one stands jest as good show as the other. The woman
asked me $2 apiece for these chickens, and I paid her in the Confedrit
money I happened to have in my pocket. I didn't notice whether it wuz
printed in Cincinnati or Richmond. I got it from one o' the boys playin'
p\x97\x97. I mean he paid it to see me." He gave Shorty a furtive kick and
whispered: "Come mighty nigh givin' my self away that time."

There was a long hill just before they came in sight of the entrance to
the camp, and they got out and helped the mules up. They walked on ahead
until they came to the top. The Deacon looked at the entrance, and said:

"I declare, if there isn't that owner o' this nigger waitin' for us."

"That so?" said Si, turning his eyes in that direction. "And he's got
some officers with him. There's some officers jest mean enough to help
these rebels ketch their niggers. I'd like to knock their addled heads
off."260

"Jest wait till we git discharged, Si, and then we kin lick 'em as much
as we want to," said Shorty. "But we've got to do somethin' now. They
can't see us yit. Deacon, jest take yer nigger and cut down around
through the crick there until you come to the picket-line. Then wait. Me
and Si'll go on in, and come around and find you."

"All right," assented the Deacon, who was falling into camp ways with
remarkable facility. "But you've got to look out for that teamster. He's
meaner'n dog-fennel. He'll tell everything."

"Good point," said Si. "We must 'tend to him. See here, Groundhog," he
continued, walking back to the teamster; "you don't know nothin' about
that old man and nigger that got on your wagon. They slipped off into
the woods when you wuzn't lookin', while you wuz busy with your mules,
and you don't know whether they went to the right or to the left, up the
road or down it."

"Do you s'pose I'm goin' to help steal a nigger, and then lie about it
to the officers, for you galoots, and all for nothin'?" said the
teamster. "You are blamed fools, that's all I've got to say."

"Look here, Groundhog," said Shorty, coming up close, with a portentious
doubled fist. "You know me, and you know Si. You know that either of us
can maul the head off you in a minute, whenever we've a mind to, and
we're likely any time to have a mind to. We're a durned sight nearer you
all the time than any o' the officers, and you can't git away from us,
though you may from them. They may buck and gag you, as they ought to,
'bout every day, but that won't be nothin' to the welting one of us
'll261 give you. Now, you tell that story, jest as Si said, and stick to
it, or you won't have a whole bone in your carcass by the end o' the
week."

When they came up to the entrance there indeed stood the owner of
Abraham Lincoln, holding his horse, and by him stood the Lieutenant-
Colonel of the 200th Ind., a big, burly man, who had been a drover and
an influential politician before he got his commission, and had a high
reputation at home as a rough-and-tumble fighter. He had not added to
his bellicose fame since entering the field, because for some mysterious
reason he had been absent every time the regiment went into a fight, or
was likely to. Consequently he was all the more blustering and
domineering in camp, in spite of the frequent repressions he got from
the modest, quiet little Colonel.

"Old Blowhard Billings is there," said Si. "Now we'll have a gust o'
wind."

"Didn't know he was in camp," said Shorty. "I've a notion to bust a cap
and scare him back to Nashville agin. Don't let him bluff you, Si, even
if he is the Lieutenant-Colonel."

They rode up to the entrance looking as innocent and placid as if
bringing in a load from the fields on the Wabash.

"Corporal Klegg," said the Lieutenant-Colonel sternly, "bring out that
nigger from the wagon."

"We ain't got no nigger in the wagon, Colonel," said Si, with an
expression of surprise.

"Come, now, don't fool with me, sir, or I'll make you very sorry for it.
I'm no man to be trifled with, sir. If you ain't got a nigger in the
wagon, what 've you done with him."262

"We ain't done nothin' with him, Colonel," persisted Si. "I hain't had
nothin' to do with no nigger since we started out this mornin'; hain't
spoken to one. Sometimes niggers jump on our wagons, ride a little ways,
and then jump off agin. I can't keep track of 'em. I generally make 'em
git off when I notice 'em."

"Corporal Klegg, you're lyin' to me," said the Lieutenant-Colonel
roughly. "I'll settle with you directly. Groundhog, have you got a
nigger in the wagon?"

"No, sir," replied the teamster.

"Didn't you have' one?"

Groundhog looked up and caught Shorty's eye fixed unflinchingly on him.

"I b'lieve that one did git on," he stammered, "but he got off agin
d'rectly. I didn't notice much about him. My mules wuz very bothersome
all the time. They're the durndest meanest mules that ever a man tried
to drive. That there off-swing mule'd\x97"

"We don't want to hear nothin' about your mules. We'll look in the wagon
ourselves."

The search developed nothing. The Lieutenant-Colonel came back to Si,
angrier than ever.

"Look here, Klegg, you're foolin' me, an' I won't stand it. I'll have
the truth out o' you if I have to kill you. Understand?"

There was a dangerous gleam in Si's and Shorty's eyes, but they kept
their lips tightly closed.

"This gentleman here," continued the Lieutenant-Colonel, "says, and I
believe his story, against all that you may say, that the men with this
wagon, which he's bin watchin' all along, took his nigger263 away from
him and drove him off with insults and curses. They threatened his life.
He says he can't reckonize either of you, and likely you have disguised
yourselves. But he reckonizes the wagon and the teamster, and is willin'
to swear to 'em. I know he's tellin' the truth, because I know you
fellers. You're impudent and sassy. You've bin among them that's
hollered at me. You've bin stealin' other things besides niggers to-day,
and have 'em in your possession. You're loaded down with things you've
stolen from houses. I won't command a regiment of nigger-thieves. I
won't have nigger-thieves in my regiment. If I've got any in my regiment
I'll break 'em of it, or I'll break their infernal necks. I believe you
fellers got away with that nigger, and I'll tie you up by the thumbs
till I get the truth out o' you. Sergeant o' the guard, take charge o'
these men, and bring 'em along. Take that stuff that they've stolen away
from them and send it to my tent."

Si and Shorty got very white about the mouth, but Si merely said, as
they handed their guns to the guard:

"Colonel, you may tie us up till doomsday, but you'll git no help out of
us to ketch runaway niggers and put 'em back in slavery."

"Shut up, you scalawag," roared the Lieutenant-Colonel. "If I hear
another word out o' you I'll buck-and-gag you."

They marched to Regimental Headquarters and halted, and the Lieutenant-
Colonel renewed his browbeating, Si and Shorty continued obstinate, and
the Lieutenant-Colonel, getting angrier every minute,264 ordered them
tied up by the thumbs. While the Sergeant of the Guard, who was a friend
of the boys, and had little heart for the work, was dallying with his
preparations, the Colonel himself appeared on the scene.

"Ah, Colonel, you've got back, have you?" said the Lieutenant-Colonel,
little pleased at the interruption. "I've just caught two of the men in
a little job o' nigger-stealin', and I was about to learn them265 a
lesson which will break them of the habit. With your consent I'll go on
with the work."

"Nigger-stealing?" said the Colonel quietly. "You mean helping a slave
to get away? Did you learn whether the owner was a loyal man?"

"I don't know as that makes any difference," replied 'the Lieutenant-
Colonel surlily. "As a matter of fact, I believe he said he had two sons
in the rebel army."

'i'll Invite Your Attention to the Emancipation Proclamation 264 '

"Well, Colonel," said the other, "I'll invite your attention to the
Emancipation Proclamation of President Lincoln, and the orders from the
War Department, which prohibit the return of slaves to disloyal owners,
and make it the duty of officers and men to assist in their escape. You
had better dismiss the men to their quarters."

"If that's the case if I don't resign. I'm no

"Abolitionist. I didn't come into the army to free the niggers."

"I shall take pleasure in forwarding your resignation with a
recommendation of its acceptance for the good of the service," said the
Colonel calmly.

"Men, go to your quarters."

"Altogether, Pap, I consider this a mighty good day's work," remarked Si
that evening after supper, as they sat around the fire smoking, with
Abraham Lincoln snoring vigorously on the floor, in his first night's
sleep as a free man.



CHAPTER XXII. TRYING TO EDUCATE ABRAHAM LINCOLN TOO HIGH-PRESSURE
SCHOOLING\x97THE BOYS ON PICKET.

ALL THREE of the men at once became guardians of Abraham Lincoln, and in
their several ways heartily interested in his welfare.

The Deacon was fired by the missionary spirit of his kind and class.

"No use talkin' no more about the heathen 'On Greenland's icy
mountains,' or any place else," he communed with himself that evening,
as he sat and smoked, and occasionally glanced at the ebon face of the
sleeper in the corner. "Providence has cut out a job for me, and sent it
home. Rather, He sent me where I couldn't help stumblin' upon it, and
reckonizin' it. The responsibility to Him is clear. I've got heathen
enough to last me for a 'coon's age, to lift that poor, ignorant soul
up, and bring it to a knowledge of Christian ways. He's not nice nor
purty; never heard of a pagan that wuz. Wouldn't be pagans if they wuz.
But he's a man and a brother, and the Bible says that I'm my brother's
keeper. I'll keep him agin fifty-'leven o' that old snortin' rebel and
Copperhead Blowhard Billings. I wuzzent brung up in the woods to be
scared by the hootin' of an owl."

"We might take him along with us, Si," said Shorty, in a low tone, with
a nod toward Abraham267 Lincoln. "We could make a bully cook out of him.
We could have no end of fun with him. We could learn him lots o' tricks.
He's as strong as an ox, and after I'd give him a few lessons in puttin'
up his hands, he'd knock out that sassy nigger o' the Colonel's."

"I think so, too," acquiesced Si, with an estimating glance at the
sleeper.

Abraham Lincoln's education began bright and early the next morning,
when Shorty kicked and shook him into wakefulness at the sound of the
reveille.

"Git up; git up," said Shorty. "Wash your hands and face, comb your
hair, cut some wood and put it on the fire, and bring a kettle o' water
from the spring."

"Wash my hands and face," said the negro, in a dazed way. "Wha' fo'?
Don't got nufin on dem. Comb my ha'r? Nebber did dat in my life."

"Well, you've got to do it now every mornin', and be spry about it, too.
Come, don't move around as if sawed out o' basswood. This ain't nigger-
quarters. Git some springs in your feet."

And he emphasized his injunctions with a vigorous push.

The negro's face looked as if he began to have doubts as to whether
freedom was all that had been represented to him. To have to get up
early every morning, and wash his face and hands and comb his hair,
seemed at the moment to be a high price to pay for liberty.

"Does I hab tuh do dat ebbery mornin', Boss?" he said, turning with a
look of plaintive inquiry to the Deacon.268

"Why, certainly," said the Deacon, who had just finished his own
ablutions,' and was combing his hair. "Every man must do that to be
decent."

Abraham Lincoln gave a deep sigh.

"Washes himself as if he's afraid the water'd scald him," said the
Deacon, watching the negro's awkward efforts. "He'll have to take more
kindly to water, if he comes into a Baptist total immersion family.
There's no salvation except by water, and plenty of it, too. Now," he
continued, as the black man had finished, "pick up that ax and cut some
wood to get breakfast with."

Abraham Lincoln took the ax, and began belaboring the wood, while the
Deacon studied him with a critical eye. There was little that the Deacon
prided himself on more than his skill as a wood chopper. People who
think the ax is a simple, skill-less tool, dependent for its efficiency
solely upon the strength and industry with which it is wielded, make a
great mistake. There is as much difference in the way men handle axes,
and in the result they produce, as there is in their playing the violin.
Anybody can chop, it is true, as anybody can daub with a paint brush,
but a real axman of the breed of the Deacon, who had gone into the
wilderness with scarcely any other tool than an ax, can produce results
with it of which the clumsy hacker can scarcely imagine. The Deacon
watched the negro's work with disgust and impatience.

"Hadn't oughter named sich a clumsy pounder as that 'Abraham Lincoln,'"
he mused. "Old Abe could handle an ax with the best of 'em. This feller
handles it as if it was a handspike. If Si couldn't 've269 used an ax
better'n that when he was 10 years old, I'd 'a' felt mortally ashamed o'
him. Gracious, what a job I have before me o' makin' a first-class man
out o' him."

The Deacon Gives Abe a Lesson in Wood Chopping 269

He took the ax from the negro's hand, and patiently showed him how to
hold and strike with it. The man apparently tried his best to learn, but
it270 was a perspiring effort for him and the Deacon. The negro
presently dropped his ax, sat down on the log, and wiped his forehead
with his shirtsleeve.

"'Fore God, Boss, dat's de hardest way ob cuttin' wood dat I ebber seed.
Hit'll kill me done daid to chop wood dat a-way."

"Pshaw!" said the impatient Deacon. "You're simply stupid; that's all.
That's the only way to handle an ax. You kin cut with half the work that
way."

He was discovering what so many of us have found out, that among the
hardest things in life is that of getting people to give up clumsy ways
for those that are better.

In the meantime the boys had gotten breakfast. Then Shorty, who was
dying to train their new acquisition for a winning fight with the
Colonel's negro, took him behind the house for a little private
instruction in boxing. The field-hand had never even heard of such a
thing before, but Shorty was too much in earnest to care for a little
thing like that. He went at his task with a will, making the negro
double his fists just so, strike in a particular way, make a certain
"guard," and hit out scientifically. Shorty was so enthusiastic that he
did not stop to think that it was severe labor for the poor negro, and
when he had to stop his lesson at the end of half an hour to go on
battalion drill he left his pupil in a state of collapse.

Ignorant of the new ordeal through which his charge had been going, the
Deacon went out in search of him. He had just finished reading the news
in the Cincinnati Commercial, ending with an271 editorial on "Our Duty
Toward the Freedmen," which impelled him to think that he could not
begin Abraham Lincoln's education too soon.

"Now, Abe," said he briskly, "you've had a good rest, and it's time that
you should be doin' some thing. You ought to learn to read as soon as
possible, and you might as well begin to learn your letters at once.
I'll give you your first lesson. Here are some nice large letters in
this newspaper head, that you kin learn very easily. Now, the first one
is T. You see it is a cross."

"Afo' de Lawd, Boss," wailed the desperate negro, "I jest can't l'arn no
mo', now, nohow. 'Deed I can't. Hit's bin nuffin but l'arn, l'arn,
ebbery minnit sense I got up dis mawnin', an' my haid's jest bustin', so
hit is. I a'most wisht I wuz back wid my ole mas'r, who didn't want to
l'arn me nuffin."

The astonished Deacon paused and reflected.

"Mebbe we've bin tryin' to force this plant too fast. There's danger
about puttin' new wine into old bottles. It's not the right way to train
anything. The way to break a colt is to hang the bridle on the fence
where he kin see and smell it for a day or two. I'll go a little slow
with him at first. Would you like something more to eat, Abe?"

"Yes, Boss. 'Deed I would," answered the negro with cheerful promptness,
forgetting all about the pangs of the "new birth of freedom."

THE END OF BOOK NO. 2.



SI KLEGG SI AND SHORTY MEET MR. ROSENBAUM, THE SPY, WHO RELATES HIS
ADVENTURES



By John McElroy



BOOK No. 3



PUBLISHED BY

THE NATIONAL TRIBUNE CO.

WASHINGTON, D. C.

SECOND EDITION

COPYRIGHT 1910



THE SIX VOLUMES SI KLEGG, Book I, Transformation From a Raw Recruit SI
KLEGG, Book II, Through the Stone River Campaign SI KLEGG, Book III,
Meets Mr. Rosenbaum, the Spy SI KLEGG, Book IV, On The Great Tullahoma
Campaign SI KLEGG, Book V, Deacon's Adventures At Chattanooga SI KLEGG,
Book VI, Enter On The Atlanta Campaign



Si and Shorty As Mounted Infantry


titlepage (25K)



CONTENTS


SI KLEGG

PREFACE

CHAPTER I. OUT ON PICKET

CHAPTER II. ROSENBAUM, THE SPY

CHAPTER III. THE DEACON GOES HOME

CHAPTER IV. A SPY'S EXPERIENCES

CHAPTER V. THE BOYS GO SPYING

CHAPTER VI. LETTER FROM HOME

CHAPTER VII. CORN PONE AND BUTTERMILK

CHAPTER VIII. A PERIOD OF SELF-DISGUST

CHAPTER IX. SHORTY GETS A LETTER

CHAPTER X. TRADING WITH THE REBS

CHAPTER XI. SHORTY'S CORRESPONDENT

CHAPTER XII. THE BAN ON WET GOODS

CHAPTER XIII. THE JEW SPY WRITES

CHAPTER XIV. SHORTY HAS AN ADVENTURE WITH SI

CHAPTER XV. SHORTY NEARLY GOT MARRIED

CHAPTER XVI. AN UNEXPECTED MARRIAGE

CHAPTER XVII. GATHERING INFORMATION

CHAPTER XVIII.   THE JEW SPY AGAIN



ILLUSTRATIONS


Si and Shorty As Mounted Infantry

Mr. Klegg Enjoys Solid Comfort. 16

"surrender, There, You Dumbed Rebel." 21

Trying to Save his Neck. 30

"i Know You, Unt What You're Here For." 32

The Negroes Merrymaking. 39

Klegg Starts Home. 45

Shorty Settles With the Banker. 51

Close Call for Rosenbaum. 54

The Spy in Custody. 58

Rosenbaum Runs Into Sigel's Pickets. 66

Watching the House. 75

The Surprise 79

Undesirable Acquaintances. 100

The Spoils of War 105

An Uncomfortable Situation 107

Shorty and si Are at Outs. 110

Si and Shorty As Mounted Infantry 117

Bushrod Prays for his Life 119

The Duel. 139

The Overture for Trade. 144

Si Wants a Fight 147

Shorty Wants to Fight Groundhog 157

Shorty Reading the Letter 160

She Whipped out a Long Knife. 189

Take Your Arm from Around That Yank's Neck 203

Jeff Sat up and Rubbed Himself 208

Old Bragg Used to Walk up Unt Down, Growling Unt Cussing. 259



SI KLEGG SI AND SHORTY MEET MR. ROSENBAUM, THE SPY, WHO RELATES HIS
ADVENTURES By John McElroy.



PREFACE

"Si Klegg, of the 200th Ind., and Shorty, his Partner," were born years
ago in the brain of John McElroy, Editor of The National Tribune.

These sketches are the original ones published in The National Tribune,
revised and enlarged somewhat by the author. How true they are to nature
every veteran can abundantly testify from his own service. Really, only
the name of the regiment was invented. There is no doubt that there were
several men of the name of Josiah Klegg in the Union Army, and who did
valiant service for the Government. They had experiences akin to, if not
identical with, those narrated here, and substantially every man who
faithfully and bravely carried a musket in defense of the best
Government on earth had sometimes, if not often, experiences of which
those of Si Klegg are a strong reminder.

The Publishers.

THIS BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO THE RANK AND FILE OF THE GRANDEST
ARMY EVER MUSTERED FOR WAR.



CHAPTER I. OUT ON PICKET THE BOYS SHOW THE DEACON A NEW WRINKLE IN THE
CULINARY ART.

SOME days later, Si had charge of a picket-post on the Readyville Pike,
near Cripple Deer Creek. The Deacon went with them, at their request,
which accorded with his own inclinations, The weather was getting warmer
every day, which made him fidgety to get back to his own fields, though
Si insisted that they were still under a foot of snow in Indiana. But he
had heard so much about picket duty that, next to battle, it was the
thing he most wanted to see. Abraham Lincoln was left behind to care for
the "house." He had been a disappointment so far, having developed no
strong qualities, except for eating and sleeping, of which he could do
unlimited quantities.

"No use o' takin' him out on picket," observed Shorty, "unless we kin
git a wagon to go along and haul rations for him. I understand now why
these rebels are so poor; the niggers eat up everything they kin raise.
I'm afraid, Deacon, he'll make the Wabash Valley look sick when you turn
him loose in it."

"I guess my farm kin stand him," said the Deacon proudly. "It stood Si
when he was a growin' boy, though he used, to strain it sometimes."

They found a comfortable fence-corner facing16 south for their "tent,"
which they constructed by making a roof of cedar boughs resting on a
rail running from one angle to another. They laid more boughs down in
the corner, and on this placed their blankets, making a bed which the
Deacon pronounced very inviting and comfortable. They built a fire in
front, for warmth and for cooking, and so set up housekeeping in a very
neat and soldier-like way.

Mr. Klegg Enjoys Solid Comfort. 16

The afternoon passed without special incident. Shorty came in with a
couple of chickens, but the17 Deacon had learned enough to repress any
questions as to where and how he got them. He soon became more
interested in his preparations for cooking them. He had built a big fire
in a hole in the ground, and piled a quantity of dry cedar on this. Then
he cut off the heads and legs of the chickens, and, getting some mud
from the side of the road, proceeded to cover each, feathers and all,
with a coating nearly an inch thick.

"What in the world do you mean by that, Shorty?" asked the Deacon in
surprise.

"He's all right. Pap," assured Si. "He'll show you a new wrinkle in
chicken-fixin' that you kin teach mother when you go home. She knows
more about cookin' than any other woman in the world, but I'll bet she's
not up to this dodge."

The fire had by this time burned down to a heap of glowing embers. The
boys scraped a hole in these, laid on it their two balls of mud, then
carefully covered them with live coals and piled on a little more wood.

"I'll say right now," said the Deacon, "that I don't think much o' that
way. Why didn't you take their feathers off and clean out their innards?
Seems to me that's a nasty way."

"Wait and see," said Shorty sententiously.

Si had mixed some meal into a dough in the half-canteens he and Shorty
carried in their haversacks. He spread this out on a piece of sheet-
iron, and propped it up before the fire. In a little while it was nicely
browned over, when Si removed it from the sheet-iron, turned it over,
and browned the other side. He repeated this until he had a sufficiency
of18 "hoe cakes" for their supper. A kettle of good, strong coffee had
been boiling on the other side of the fire while this was going on. Then
they carefully raked the embers off, and rolled out two balls of hard-
baked clay. Waiting for these to cool a little, they broke them. The
skin and feathers came off with the pieces and revealed deliciously
savory, sweet meat, roasted just to a turn. The intestines had shriveled
up with the heat into little, hard balls, which were thrown away.

"Yum\x97yum\x97yum," said Shorty, tearing one of the chickens in two, and
handing a piece to the Deacon, while Si gave him a sweet, crisp hoe cake
and a cup of strong coffee. "Now, this's what you might call livin'.
Never beat that cookin' in any house that had a roof. Only do that when
you've stars in the roof of your kitchen."

"It certainly is splendid," admitted the Deacon. "I don't think Maria
could've done better."

It was yet light when they finished their supper, filled their pipes,
and adjusted themselves for a comfortable smoke. One of the men came
back and said:

"Corporal, there's a rebel on horseback down the road a little ways who
seems to be spying on us. We've noticed him for some little time. He
don't come up in good range, and we haven't fired at him, hopin' he'd
come closer. Better come and take a look at him."

"Don't do anything to scare him off," said Si. "Keep quiet. Me and
Shorty'll sneak down through the field, out of sight, and git him."

They picked up their guns and slipped out under19 the cover of the
undergrowth to where they could walk along the fence, screened by the
heavy thicket of sumach. Catching the excitement of the occasion, the
Deacon followed them at a little distance.

Without discovery Si and Shorty made their way to a covert within an
easy 50 yards of where the horseman sat rather uneasily on a fine,
mettled animal. They got a good look at him. He was a young, slender
man, below medium hight, with curly, coalblack hair, short whiskers, a
hooked nose, and large, full eyes. He wore a gray suit of rather better
make and material than was customary in the rebel army. He had a
revolver in his belt and a carbine slung to his saddle, but showed no
immediate intention of using either. His right hand rested on his thigh,
and his eyes were intently fixed on the distant picket-post.

"A rebel scout," whispered Si. "Shall we knock him over, and then order
him to surrender, or halt him first, and then shoot?"

"He can't git away," said Shorty. "I have him kivered. You kivver his
hoss's head. Then call him down."

Si drew his sights fine on the horse's head and yelled:

"Surrender, there, you dumbed rebel."

'surrender, There, You Dumbed Rebel.' 21

The man gave a quick start, a swift glance at the blue uniforms, and
instantly both hands went up.

"That is all right, boys. Don't shoot. I'm a friend," he called in a
strong German accent.

"Climb down off o' that boss, and come here, and do it mighty sudden,"
called out Si, with his finger still on the trigger.20

The horse became restive at the sound of strange voices, but the man
succeeded in dismounting, and taking his reins in his hand, led the
horse up to the fence.

"Very glad to see you, boys," said he, surveying their blue garments
with undisguised satisfaction, and putting out his other hand to shake.

"Take off that revolver, and hand it here," ordered the wary Shorty,
following the man with the muzzle of his gun. The man slipped his arm
through the reins, unbuckled his revolver, and handed it to Shorty. Si
jumped over the fence and seized the carbine.

"Who are you, and where did you come from?" asked Si, starting the man
up the road toward the post.

"What rechiment do you belong to?" asked the stranger, warily.

"We belong to Co. Q, 200th Injianny, the best regiment in Gen.
Rosecrans's army," answered Si proudly, that the captive might
understand where the honor of his taking belonged.

"That is all right," said the stranger, with an air of satisfaction.
"The 200th Indianny is a very good regiment. I saw them whip John
Morgan's cavalry at Green River. Clumsy farmer boys, but shoot like born
devils."

"But who are you, and where did you come from?" repeated Si impatiently.

"I'm all right. I'm Levi Rosenbaum of Gen. Rosecrans's secret service. I
got some news for him."

"You have?" said Si suspiciously. "Why didn't you ride right in and tell
it to him? What've you21 bin hangin' around here all afternoon, watchin'
our post for?"

"I wasn't sure you was there. I was told that the Yankee pickets was
going to be pushed out to Cripple Deer Creek to-day, but I didn't know
it for sure. I was afraid that the rebels was there yet. Jim Jones, of
the secret service, had agreed to come out this afternoon and wave a
flag if it was all22 right. I was waiting for his sign. But he is
probably drunk. He always gets so when he reaches camp."

The Deacon joined them in the road, and gave a searching glance at the
prisoner.

"Ain't you a Jew?" he inquired presently. "Ain't your name Rosenbaum?
Didn't you go through Posey County, Ind., a year or two ago, with a
wagon, sellin' packs o' cloth to the farmers?"

"I'm an American citizen," said the man proudly, "the same as the rest
of you. My religion is Hebrew. I don't know and don't care what your
religion is. Every man has the religion that suits him. My name is
Rosenbaum. I did sell cloth in Posey County, unt all over Indianny. It
was good cloth, too, unt I sold it at a bargain."

"It certainly was good cloth, and cheap," admitted the Deacon. "What in
the world are you doin' down here in them clothes?"

"I'm doing just what these men are doing here in their cloze," answered
Rosenbaum. "I'm trying to serve the country. I'm doing it different from
them, because I'm built different from them. I hope I'm doing it well.
But I'm awfully hungry. Got anything to eat? Just a cup of coffee and a
cracker? Don't care for any pork."

"Yes, we'll give you something to eat," said Shorty. "I think there's
some of our chicken left. You'll find that good."

"How did you cook that?" said Rosenbaum, looking at the tempting morsel
suspiciously.

Shorty explained.23

"Thanks; I can't eat it," said Rosenbaum with a sigh. "It ain't kosher."

"What the devil's that?" asked Shorty.

"It's my religion. I can't explain. Send for the Officer of the Guard to
take me to Headquarters," answered Rosenbaum, sipping his coffee.



CHAPTER II. ROSENBAUM, THE SPY THE JEW TELLS THE THRILLING STORY OF HIS
ADVENTURE.

THE Officer of the Guard was a long time in coming, and Mr. Rosenbaum
grew quite chatty and communicative, as they sat around the bright fire
of cedar logs and smoked.

"Yes," he said, "I have been in the secret service ever since the
beginning of the war\x97in fact, before the war, for I began getting news
for Frank Blair in the Winter before the war. They say Jews have no
patriotism. That's a lie. Why should they have no patriotism for
countries where they were treated like dogs? In Germany, where I was
born, they treated us worse than dogs. They made us live in a little,
nasty, pig-pen of an alley; we had to go in at sundown, unt stay there;
we had to wear a different cloze from other folks, unt we didn't dare to
say our souls were our own to any dirty loafer that insulted us.

"Here we are treated like men, unt why shouldn't we help to keep the
country from breaking up? Jews ought to do more than anybody else, unt I
made up my mind from the very first that I was going to do all that I
could. The Generals have told me that I could do much better for the
country in the secret service than as a soldier; they could get plenty
of soldiers unt but few spies."25

"Now you're shoutin'," said Shorty. "They kin git me to soldier as long
as the war lasts, for the askin', but I wouldn't be a spy 10 minutes for
a corn-basket full o' greenbacks. I have too much regard for my neck. I
need it in my business."

"You a spy," said Si derisively. "You couldn't spy for sour apples. Them
big feet o' your'n 'd give you dead away to anybody that'd ever seen you
before."

"Spyin' isn't the business that any straightfor'rd man,"\x97the Deacon
began to say in tones of cold disapproval, and then he bethought him of
courtesy to the stranger, and changed hastily\x97"that I'd like to do. It's
entirely too resky."

"O, it's jest as honorable as anything else. Pap," said Si, divining his
father's thought. "All's fair in love and war. We couldn't git along
without spies. They're as necessary as muskets and cannon."

"Indeed they are," said Mr. Rosenbaum earnestly; "you wouldn't know what
to do with your muskets and cannon if the spies didn't tell you where
the rebels were, unt how many there was of them. I go out unt get
information that it would cost hundreds of lives to get, unt may save
thousands of lives, unt all that it costs is one poor little Jew's neck,
when they drop on to him some day, unt leave him swinging from a tree.
But when that time comes, I shall make no more complaint than these
other poor boys do, who get their heads knockt off in battle. I'm no
better than they are. My life belongs to the country the same as theirs,
unt this free Government is worth all our lives, unt more, too."

His simple, sincere patriotism touched the Deacon26 deeply. "I'd no idee
that there was so much o' the man in a Jew," he said to himself. Then he
asked the stranger:

"How did you come to go into the spy business, Mr. Rosenbaum?"

"Well, I was in St. Louis in the Clothing pizniss, unt you know it was
purty hot there. All the Germans were for the Union, unt most of the
Americans unt Irish seemed to be Secessionists. I sided with the
Germans, but as nobody seemed to think that a Jew had any principles or
cared for anything but the almighty dollar, everybody talked right out
before me, unt by keepin' my ears wide open I got hold of lots of news,
which I took straight to General Lyon. I got well acquainted with him,
and he used to send me here and there to find out things for him. I'd
sell gray uniforms and other things to the Secessionists; they'd talk to
one another right before me as to what was being done, and I'd keep my
ears wide open all the time, though seemed to be only thinking about the
fit and the buttons and the gold lace.

"Then General Lyon wanted to find out just exactly how many men there
was in Camp Jackson\x97no guesswork\x97no suppose. I took 2,000 of my business
cards, printed on white, and 1,000 printed on gray paper. I went through
the whole camp. To every man in uniform I give a white card; to every
man without a uniform, who seemed to be there for earnest, I give a gray
card. When I got back I counted my cards in General Lyon's office, unt
found I'd give out 500 white cards unt 200 gray27 ones. Then General
Lyon took out about 3,000 men, unt brought the whole crowd back with
him."

"Then General Lyon," continued Rosenbaum, "sent me out from Springfield,
Mizzouri, to see how many men old Pap Price unt Ben McCullough had
gathered up against him from Mizzouri, Arkansaw, Texas unt the plains.
Holy Moses, I was scared when I saw the pile of them. The whole world
seemed to be out there, yipping unt yelling for Jeff Davis, drinking raw
sod-corn whisky, making secession speeches, unt shooting at marks.

"I rode right into them, unt pretended that I was looking for Mexican
silver dollars to take to Mexico to buy powder unt lead for the rebel
army. I had a lot of new Confedrit notes that I'd got from my cousin,
who was in the tobacco business in Memphis. They was great curiosities,
unt every man who had a Mexican dollar wanted to trade it for a
Confedrit dollar.

"There was no use tryin' to count the men\x97might as well have tried to
count the leaves on the trees, so I begun to count the regiments. I
stuck a pin in my right lapel for every Mizzouri regiment, one in my
left lapel for every Arkansaw regiment, one in my vest for every one
from Texas. I had black pins for the cannons. I was getting along very
well, when I run across Bob Smiles, a dirty loafer, who had been a
customer in St. Louis. He wouldn't pay me, unt I had to get out a writ
unt levy on his clothes just as he was dressing to go to a quadroon
ball.

"I left him with only a necktie, which was worth nothing to me, as it
had been worn and soiled. He was very sore against me, unt I was not
surprised.28

"It made me sick at my stomach when I saw him come up.

"'Hello, you damn Dutch Jew,' he said. 'What are you doing here?'

"I tried to be very pleasant, unt I put out my hand unt said, with my
best smile:

"'Good gracious. Bob, how glad I am to see you. When did you get here?
Are you well? How are the other boys? Who's here? Where are you
stopping?'

"But I might as well have tried to make friends with a bull dog in front
of a farm house where all the people had gone away.

"'Go to blazes,' he said. 'None of your bizniss how I am, how I got
here, or how the other boys are. Better not let them find out you're
here. They'll take it out of your Jew hide for the way you used to skin
them in St. Louis. I want to know what the devil you are doing here?'

"'Now, Mister Smiles,' I said, pleasant as a May morning, 'that's not
the way to talk to me. You know I got up the stylishest clothes unt the
best fits in St. Louis. We had a little trouble, it is true. It was
nothing, though. Just a little business dispute. You know I always
thought you one of the very nicest men in St. Louis, unt I said so, even
to the Squire unt to the Constable.'

"'Go to the devil, you Savior-killing Jew,' said he. 'Shut up your
mouth, or I'll stuff a piece of pork in it. I want to know at once what
you are doing here? Where did you come from?'

"'I come from Memphis,' said I. 'I'm in the service of the Southern
Confedrisy. General Pillow sent29 me to gather up all the Mexican
dollars I could find, to send to Mexico to buy ammunition.'

"'It's a lie, of course,' said he. 'A Jew'd rather lie than eat, any
day. Then you're one of them St. Louis Dutch\x97them imported Hessians.
They're all dead against us. They all ought to be killed. I ought to
kill you myself for being so cussed mean to me.'

"He put his hand on his revolver in a way that made my breakfast sour in
my stomach, but then I knew that Bob Smiles was a great blowhard, unt
his bark was much worse than his bite. In St. Louis he was always going
to fight somebody unt kill somebody, but he never done neither. Quite a
crowd gathered around, unt Bob blew off to them, unt they yelled, 'Hang
the Jew spy. Kill the damn rascal,' and other things that made me
unhappy. But what made my flesh crawl was to see a man who wasn't saying
much, go to a wagon, pull out a rope, unt begin making a noose on the
end. Bob Smiles caught hold of my collar unt started to drag me toward a
tree. Just as I was giving up everything for lost, up comes Jim
Jones\x97the same man I'm going to meet here\x97he come runnin' up. He was
dressed in full uniform as a rebel officer\x97gray coat unt pants, silver
stars on his collar, high boots, gray slouched hat with gold cord, unt
so on.

"'Here, what is the matter? What's all this fuss in camp?' he said.

"'We've ketched one of them Dutch Jews from St. Louis spying our camp,
Major,' said Bob Smiles, letting loose of my collar to salute the
Major's silver stars. 'And we are going to hang him.'30

"'A spy? How do you know he's a spy?'" asked Jim Jones.

"'Well, he's Dutch; he's a Jew, unt he's from St. Louis. What more do
you want?'" asked Bob Smiles.

Trying to Save his Neck. 30

The crowd yelled, unt de man with the rope went to the tree unt flung
one end over a limb.

"'His being a St. Louis Dutchman is against him,'31 said Jim Jones, 'but
his being a Jew is in his favor. A Jew don't care a blame for politics.
He hain't got no principles. He'd rather make a picayune off you in a
trade than have a wagon-load of principles. But you fellers have got
nothing to do with spies, anyway. That's headquarters' bizniss. I'm an
officer at General Price's headquarters. I'll take him up there unt
examine him. Bring him along.'

"'Go along, Jew,' said two of three of them, giving me kicks, as Bob
Smiles started with me. The man with the rope stood by the tree looking
very disappointed.

"When we got near General Price's tent, Jim Jones says to the rest:

"'You stop there. Come along with me, Jew.'

"He took me by the collar, unt we walked toward General Price's tent. He
whispered to me as we went along: 'You're all right, Rosenbaum. I know
you, unt I know what you're here for. Just keep a stiff upper lip, tell
your story straight, unt I'll see you through.'

'i Know You, Unt What You're Here For.' 32

"That scared me worse than ever, but all that I could do was to keep up
my nerve, unt play my cards coolly. We went into the General's tent, but
he was busy, unt motioned us with his hand to the Adjutant-General.

"'What's the matter?' asked the Adjutant-General, motioning me to sit
down, while he went on making tally marks on a sheet of paper, as a man
called off the regiments that had reported. Then he footed them all up,
unt, turning to another officer, read from it so many Arkansaw
regiments, so many32 Louisianny, so many Mizzouri, so many Texas, so
many batteries of artillery, unt he said to another officer as he laid
the paper face down among the other papers on his table: 'Just as I told
you, Colonel. We have fully 22,000 men ready for battle.' Then to us:
'Well, what can I do for you?'

"'The boys had picked up this Jew for a spy, Colonel,' said Jim Jones,
pointing to me, 'unt they33 were about to hang him, just to pass away
the afternoon more than for anything else. I took him away from them,
telling them that it was your privilege to hang spies, unt you could do
it according to the science of war. I brung him up here to get him away
from them. After they're gone away or got interested in something else
I'll take him unt put him outside of camp.'

"'All right," said de Adjutant-General, without taking much interest in
the matter. 'Do with him as you please. A Jew more or less isn't of any
consequence. Probably he deserves hanging, though, but it isn't well to
encourage the boys to hang men on sight. They're quite too ready to do
that, anyway.'

"He talked to the other man a little, unt then when he went away he
turned to me, unt said, sort of lazy like, as if he didn't care anything
about it:

"'Where are you from?'

"'From Memphis,' said I.

"'Great place, Memphis,' said he; 'one of the thriving suburbs of
Satan's Kingdom. Had lots of fun there. I know every faro bank in it,
which speaks well for my memory, if not for my morals. What bizniss was
you in?'

"'Clothing,' said I.

"'What a fool question to ask a Jew,' said he, yawning. 'Of course, you
was in the clothing trade. You was born in it. All Jews have been since
they gambled for the Savior's garments.'

"'They wasn't Jews what gambled for Christ's clothes,' said I, picking
up a little courage. 'They vass Romans\x97Italians\x97Dagoes.'34

"'Was they?' said he. 'Well, mebbe they was. I haven't read my Bible for
so long that I've clean forgot. Say, what are you doing with all them
pins?'

"The question come so unexpected that it come nearly knocking me off my
base. I had calculated on almost every other possible thing, unt was
ready for it, except that fool question. I thought for a minit that
disappointed man by the tree with the rope was going to get his job,
after all. But I gathered myself together with a jerk, unt calmly said
with a smile:

"'O, that's some of my foolishness. I can't get over being a tailor, and
sticking all the pins what I find in my lapel. I must pick up every one
I see.'

"'Queer where you found them all,' said he. 'Must've brung them from
Memphis with you. I can't find one in the whole camp. Our men use nails
unt thorns instead of pins. I've been wanting a lot of pins for my
papers. Let me have all you got. I wish you had a paper of them.'

"I did have two or three papers in my pockets, unt first had a fool idea
of offering them to him. Then I remembered that disappointed man with
the rope by the tree, unt pulled the pins out of my lapels one by one
unt give them to him, trying to keep count in my head as I did so.

"'What are you doing here, anyway?' he asked as he gathered up the pins
unt put them in a pasteboard box.

"'I come here at General Pillow's orders, to pick up some Mexican silfer
dollars, to buy ammunition in Mexico.

"'Another of old blowhard Pillow's fool schemes,'35 said he. 'I know old
Pillow. I served with him in Mexico, when he dug his ditch on the wrong
side of his fortification. He's probably going to do some-thing else
with the dollars than buy ammunition. Old Gid Pillow's a mighty slick
one, I tell you, when it comes to filling his own pockets. He's no fool
there, whatever he may be in other ways. He's working some scheme to
skin our men, unt making you his partner, then he'll turn around unt
skin you. I'll stop it going any further by turning you out of camp, unt
I ought to take away from you all the money you've gathered up, but I
won't do it on one condition.'

"'What is your condition?' said I, trying not to speak too quick.

"'You say you are in the clothing pizniss. I want awfully a nice
uniform, just like the Major's there. What's such a uniform worth?'

"'About $75,' said I.

"'I paid $65 for this in St. Louis,' said Jim Jones.

"'Well, $10 is not much of a skin for a Memphis Jew,' laughed the
Adjutant-General. 'I tell you what I'll do, if you'll swear by the book
of Deuteronomy, unt Moses, Abraham unt Isaac, to have me inside of two
weeks just such a uniform as the Major's there, I'll let you off with
all the money you have made already, unt when you come back with it I'll
give you written permission to trade for every silver dollar in camp.'

"'It is a bargain,' said I.

"'Unt it'll be a perfect fit," said he.

"'Just like the paper on the wall,' said I. 'Let me36 take your
measure.'

"I had my eye all the time on the paper he had laid carelessly down unt
forgotten. I pulled my tapemeasure out. The old idee of the tailor come
up. I forgot about the disappointed man with the rope by the tree, unt
was my old self taking the measure of a customer. I put all the figures
down on his piece of paper, without his noticing what I was using. I
asked him about the lining, the trimming, unt the pockets, unt wrote
them down. Then I folded up the paper unt stuck it in my breast pocket,
unt my heart gave a big thump, though I kept my face straight, unt went
on talking about buttons unt silk braid unt gold lace for the sleeves. I
promised him he should have the uniform in the army in two weeks' time.
Just then some officers come in, unt Jim Jones hurried me out. I could
not understand Jim Jones. He hurried me across to a place behind the
woods, where we found some horses.

"'Untie that one unt get on quick,' he said. 'My God, you've got the
thing dead to rights; you've got everything on that piece of paper. My
God, what luck! Smartest thing I ever saw done. Get that paper in
General Lyon's hands before midnight if you kill yourself unt horse in
doing it. I'll take you out past part of the guards, unt show you how to
avoid the rest. Then ride as if the devil was after you, until you reach
General Lyon's tent.'

"I was dumfounded. I looked at Jim Jones. His eyes was like fire. Then
it suddenly occurred to me that Jim Jones was a spy, too.

"As I mounted I looked back across the camp. I saw the rope still
hanging from a limb of the tree,37 and the disappointed man sitting down
beside it patiently waiting.

"That night the paper was in General Lyon's hands, unt the next night
the army moved out to fight the battle of Wilson's Creek.

"The Adjutant-General is still waiting for that uniform."

"Halt, who comes there?" called out Shorty, whose quick ears caught the
sound of approaching footsteps.

"The Officer of the Guard," responded from the bank of darkness in the
rear.

"Advance, Officer of the Guard, and give the countersign," commanded
Shorty, lowering his musket to a charge bayonets.

The officer advanced, leaned over the bayonet's point, and whispered the
countersign.

"Countersign's correct," announced Shorty, bringing his gun to a
present. "Good evening. Lieutenant. We have got a man here who claims to
belong to the Secret Service."

"Yes," answered the officer. "We've been expecting him all afternoon,
but thought he was coming in on the other road. I'd have been around
here long ago only for that. This is he, is it? Well, let's hurry in.
They want you at Headquarters as soon as possible."

"Good night, boys," called out Mr. Rosenbaum as he disappeared; "see you
again soon."

38



CHAPTER III. THE DEACON GOES HOME SHORTY FALLS A VICTIM TO HIS GAMBLING
PROPENSITIES.

THE BOYS did not finish their tour of picket duty till the forenoon of
the next day, and it was getting toward evening when they reached their
own camp.

"What in the world's going on at the house?" Si asked anxiously, as they
were standing on the regimental parade ground waiting to be dismissed.
Strange sounds came floating from that direction. The scraping of a
fiddle was mingled with yells, the rush of feet, and laughter.

"I'll go over there and see," said the Deacon, who had sat down behind
the line on a pile of the things they had brought back with them. He
picked up the coffee-pot, the frying-pan, and one of the haversacks, and
walked in the direction of the house. As he turned into the company
street and came in sight of the cabin he looked for an instant, and then
broke out:

"I'm blamed if they don't seem to be havin' a nigger political rally
there, with the house as campaign headquarters. Where in time could they
have all come from? Looks like a crow-roost, with some o' the crows
drunk."

Apparently, all the negro cooks, teamsters, officers' servants, and
roustabouts from the adjoining camps39 had been gathered there, with
Groundhog, Pilgarlic, and similar specimens of the white teamsters among
them and leading them.

The Negroes Merrymaking. 39

Seated on a log were three negroes, one sawing on an old fiddle, one
picking a banjo, and one playing the bones. Two negroes were in the
center of a ring, dancing, while the others patted "Juba." All were more
or less intoxicated. Groundhog and Pilgarlic were endeavoring to get up
a fight between Abraham Lincoln and another stalwart, stupid negro, and
were plying them with whisky from a canteen and egging them on with
words.40

The Deacon strode up to Groundhog and, catching him by the arm, demanded
sternly:

"What are you doing, you miserable scoundrel? Stop it at once."

Groundhog, who had drunk considerable himself, and was pot-valiant,
shook him off roughly, saying:

"G'way from here, you dumbed citizen. This hain't none o' your bizniss.
Go back to your haymow and leave soldiers alone."

The Deacon began divesting himself of his burden to prepare for action,
but before he could do so, Shorty rushed in, gave Groundhog a vigorous
kick, and he and Si dispersed the rest of the crowd in a hurry with
sharp cuffs for all they could reach. The meeting broke up without a
motion to adjourn.

The Deacon caught Abraham Lincoln by the collar and shook him
vigorously.

"You black rascal," he said, "what've you bin up to?"

"Didn't 'spect you back so soon. Boss," gasped the negro. "Said you
wouldn't be back till termorrer."

"No matter when you expected us back," said the Deacon, shaking him
still harder, while Si winked meaningly at Shorty. "What d'ye mean by
sich capers as this? You've bin a-drinkin' likker, you brute."

"Cel'bratun my freedom," gasped the negro. "Groundhog done tole me to."

"I'd like to celebrate his razzled head offen him," exploded the Deacon.
"I'll welt him into dog's meat hash if I kin lay my hands on him. He's
too mean and wuthless to even associate with mules. If I'd a41 dog on my
place as onery as he is I'd give him a button before night. He's not
content with bein' a skunk himself; he wants to drag everybody else down
to his level. Learnin' you to drink whisky and fight as soon as you're
out o' bondage. Next thing he'll be learnin' you to steal sheep and vote
for Vallandigham. I'd like to put a stone around his neck and feed him
to the catfish."

There was something so strange and earnest about the Deacon's wrath that
it impressed the negro more than any of the most terrible exhibitions of
wrath that he had seen his master make. He cowered down, and began
crying in a maudlin way and begging:

"Pray God, Boss, don't be so hard on a poor nigger."

Si, who had learned something more of the slave nature than his father,
ended the unpleasant scene by giving Abraham Lincoln a sharp slap across
the hips with a piece of clapboard and ordering:

"Pick up that camp-kettle, go to the spring and fill it, and git back
here in short meter."

The blow came to the negro as a welcome relief. It was something that he
could understand. He sprang to his feet, grinned, snatched up the
campkettle, and ran to the spring.

"I must get that man away from here without delay," said the Deacon.
"The influences here are awful. They'll ruin him. He'll lose his soul if
he stays here. I'll start home with him to-morrow."

"He'll do worse'n lose his soul," grumbled Shorty, who had been looking
over the provisions. "He'll lose the top of his woolly head if he brings
another42 gang o' coons around here to eat us out o' house and home.
I'll be gosh durned if I don't believe they've eat up even all the salt
and soap. There ain't a crumb left of anything. Talk about losin' his
soul. I'd give six bits for something to make him lose his appetite."

"I'll take him home to-morrow," reiterated the Deacon. "I raised over
'leven hundred bushels o' corn last year, 'bout 500 o' wheat, and just
an even ton o' pork. I kin feed him awhile, anyway, but I don't know as
I'd chance two of him."

"What'll you do if you have him and the grasshoppers the same year,
Pap?" inquired Si.

That night the Deacon began his preparations for returning home. He had
gathered up many relics from the battlefield to distribute among his
friends at home and decorate the family mantlepiece. There were
fragments of exploded shells, some canister, a broken bayonet, a smashed
musket, a solid 12-pound shot, and a quart or more of battered bullets
picked up in his walks over the scenes of the heavy fighting.

"Looks as if you were going into the junk business. Pap," commented Si,
as the store was gathered on the floor.

The faithful old striped carpetsack was brought out, and its handles
repaired with stout straps. The thrifty Deacon insisted on taking home
some of Si's and Shorty's clothes to be mended. The boys protested.

"We don't mend clothes in the army, Pap," said Si. "They ain't wuth it.
We just wear 'em out throw 'em away, and draw new ones."

The Deacon held out that his mother and sisters43 would take great
pleasure in working on such things, from the feeling that they were
helping the war along. Finally the matter was compromised by putting in
some socks to be darned and shirts to be mended. Then the bullets,
canister, round-shot, fragments of shell, etc., were filled in.

"I declare," said the Deacon dubiously, as he hefted the carpetsack.
"It's goin' to be a job to lug that thing back home. Better hire a mule-
team. But I'll try it. Mebbe it'll help work some o' the stupidity out
o' Abraham Lincoln."

The whole of Co. Q and most of the regiment had grown very fond of the
Deacon, and when it was noised around that he was going, they crowded in
to say good-by, and give him letters and money to take home. The
remaining space in the carpetsack and all that in the Deacon's many
pockets were filled with these.

The next morning the company turned out to a man and escorted him to the
train, with Si and his father marching arm-in-arm at the head, the
company fifers playing,

"Ain't I glad to get out of the Wilderness, Way down in Tennessee,"

and Abraham Lincoln, laden with the striped carpetsack, the smashed
musket and other relics, bringing up the rear, under the supervision of
Shorty. Tears stood in the old man's eyes as he stood on the platform of
the car, and grasped Si's and Shorty's hands in adieu. His brief
farewell was characteristic of the strong, self-contained Western44 man:

"Good-by, boys. God bless you. Take care of yourselves. Be good boys.
Come home safe after the war."

Klegg Starts Home. 45

The boys stood and watched the train with sorrowful eyes until it had
passed out of sight in the woods beyond Overall's Creek, and then turned
to go to their camp with a great load of homesickness weighing down
their hearts.

"Just think of it; he's going straight back to God's country," said
someone near.

A sympathetic sigh went up from all.

"Shet up," said Shorty savagely. "I don't want to hear a word o' that
kind. He pulled his hat down over his eyes, rammed his hands deep in his
pockets, and strode off, trying to whistle

"When this cruel war is over,"

but the attempt was a dismal failure. Si separated from the crowd and
joined him. They took an unfrequented and roundabout way back to camp.

"I feel all broke up. Si," said Shorty. "I wish that we were goin' into
a fight, or something to stir us up."

Si understood his partner's mood, and that it was likely to result in an
outbreak of some kind. He tried to get him over to the house, so that he
could get him interested in work there.

They came to a little hidden ravine, and found it filled with men
playing that most fascinating of all gambling games to the average
soldier\x97chucka-luck. There were a score of groups, each gathered around
as45 many "sweat-boards." Some of the men "running" the games were
citizens, and some were in uniform. Each had before him a small board on
which was sometimes painted, sometimes rudely marked with charcoal,
numbers from 1 to 6.

On some of the boards the numbers were indicated by playing-cards, from
ace to six-spot, tacked down. The man who "ran" the game had a dice-box,
with three dice. He would shake the box, turn it upside46 down on the
board, and call upon the group in front of him to make their bets.

The players would deposit their money on the numbers that they fancied,
and then, after the inquiry, "All down?" the "banker" would raise the
box and reveal the dice. Those who had put their money on any of the
three numbers which had turned up, would be paid, while those who bet on
the other three would lose.

Chuck-a-luck was strictly prohibited in camp, but it was next to
impossible to keep the men from playing it. Citizen gamblers would gain
admittance to camp under various pretexts and immediately set up boards
in secluded places, and play till they were discovered and run out, by
which time they would have made enough to make it an inducement to try
again whenever they could find an opportunity. They followed the army
incessantly for this purpose, and in the aggregate carried off immense
sums of the soldiers' pay. Chuck-a-luck is one of the fairest of
gambling games, when fairly played, which it rarely or never is by a
professional gambler. A tolerably quick, expert man finds little
difficulty in palming the dice before a crowd of careless soldiers so as
to transfer the majority of their bets to his pocket. The regular
citizen gamblers were reinforced by numbers of insatiable chuck-a-
luckers in the ranks, who would set up a "board" at the least chance,
even under the enemy's fire, while waiting the order to move.

Chuck-a-luck was Shorty's greatest weakness. He found it as difficult to
pass a chuck-a-luck board as an incurable drunkard does to pass a dram-
shop.47

Si knew this, and shuddered a little as he saw the "layouts," and tried
to get his partner past them. But it was of no use. Shorty was in an
intractable mood. He must have a strong distraction. If he could not
fight he would gamble.

"I'm goin' to bust this feller's bank before I go another step," said
he, stopping before one. "I know him. He's the same feller that, you
remember, I busted down before Nashville. I kin do it agin. He's a bum
citizen gambler. He thinks he's the smartest chuck-a-lucker in the Army
o' the Cumberland, but I'll learn him different."

"Don't risk more'n a dollar," begged Si as a final appeal.

"All down?" called the "banker."

"Allow doublin'?" inquired Shorty.

"Double as much as you blamed please, so long's you put your money
down," answered the "banker" defiantly.

"Well, then, here goes a dollar on that five-spot," said Shorty,
"skinning" a bill from a considerable roll.

"Don't allow more'n 25 cents bet on single cards, first bet," said the
"banker," dismayed by the size of the roll.

"Thought you had some sand," remarked Shorty contemptuously. "Well,
then, here's 25 cents on the five-spot, and 25 cents on the deuce," and
he placed shin-plasters on the numbers. "Now, throw them dice straight,
and no fingerin'. I'm watchin' you."

"Watch and be durned," said the "banker" surlily. "Watch your own
business, and I'll watch mine. I'm as honest as you are any day."48

The "banker" lifted the box, and showed two sixes and a tray up. He
raked in the bets on the ace, deuce, four and five-spots, and paid the
others.

"Fifty cents on the deuce; 50 cents on the five," said Shorty, laying
down the fractional currency.

Again they lost.

"A dollar on the deuce; a dollar on the five," said Shorty.

The same ill luck.

"Two dollars on the deuce; two dollars on the five," said Shorty, though
Si in vain plucked his sleeve to get him away.

The spots remained obstinately down.

"Four dollars on the deuce; four dollars on the five," said Shorty.

No better luck.

"Eight dollars on the deuce; eight dollars on the five," said Shorty.

"Whew, there goes more'n a month's pay," said the other players,
stopping to watch the dice as they rolled out, with the deuce and five-
spot down somewhere else than on top. "And his roll's beginning to look
as if an elephant had stepped on it. Now we'll see his sand."

"Come, Shorty, you've lost enough. You've lost too much already. Luck's
agin you," urged Si. "Come away."

"I ain't goin'," said Shorty, obstinately. "Now's my chance to bust him.
Every time them spots don't come up increases the chances that they'll
come up next time. They've got to. They're not loaded; I kin tell that
by the way they roll. He ain't fingerin' 'em; I stopped that when I made
him49 give 'em a rollin' throw, instead o' keep in' 'em kivvered with
the box."

"Sixteen dollars on the deuce; sixteen dollars on the five-spot. And I
ain't takin' no chances o' your jumpin' the game on me, Mr. Banker. I
want you to plank down $32 alongside o' mine."

Shorty laid down his money and put his fists on it. "Now put yours right
there."

"O, I've got money enough to pay you. Don't be skeered," sneered the
"banker," "and you'll git it if you win it."

"You bet I will," answered Shorty. "And I'm goin' to make sure by havin'
it right on the board alongside o' mine. Come down, now."

The proposition met the favor of the other players, and the "banker" was
constrained to comply.

"Now," said Shorty, as the money was counted down, "I've jest $20 more
that says that I'll win. Put her up alongside."

The "banker" was game. He pulled out a roll and said as he thumbed it
over:

"I'll see you $20, and go you $50 better that I win."

Shorty's heart beat a little faster. All his money was up, but there was
the $50 which the Deacon had intrusted to him for charitable purposes.
He slipped his hand into his bosom, felt it, and looked at Si. Si was
not looking at him, but had his eyes fixed on a part of the board where
the dice had been swept after the last throw. Shorty resisted the
temptation for a moment, and withdrew his hand.

"Come down, now," taunted the "banker." "You've blowed so much about
sand. Don't weaken over a50 little thing like $50. I'm a thoroughbred,
myself, I am. The man don't live that kin bluff me."

The taunt was too much for Shorty. He ran his hand into his bosom in
desperation, pulled out the roll of the Deacon's money, and laid it on
the board.

Si had not lifted his eyes. He was wondering why the flies showed such a
liking for the part of the board where the dice were lying. Numbers of
them had gathered there, apparently eagerly feeding. He was trying to
understand it.

He had been thinking of trying a little shy at the four-spot himself, as
he had noticed that it had never won, and two or three times he had
looked for it before the dice were put in the box, and had seen the
"banker" turn it down on the board before picking the dice up. A thought
flashed into his mind.

The "banker" picked up the dice with seeming carelessness, dropped them
into the box, gave them a little shake, and rolled them out. Two threes
and a six came up. The "banker's" face lighted up with triumph, and
Shorty's deadened into acute despair.

"I guess that little change is mine," said the "banker" reaching for the
pile.

"Hold on a minnit. Mister," said Si, covering the pile with his massive
hands. "Shorty, look at them dice. He's got molasses on one side. You
kin see there where the flies are eatin' it."

Shorty snatched up the dice, felt them and touched his tongue to one
side. "That's so, sure's you're a foot high," said he sententiously.

Just then someone yelled:

"Scatter! Here come the guards!"51

All looked up. A company coming at the doublequick was almost upon them.
The "banker" made a final desperate claw for the money, but was met by
the heavy fist of Shorty and knocked on his back. Shorty grabbed what
money there was on the board, and he and Si made a burst of speed which
took them out of reach of the "provos" in a few seconds. Looking back
from a safe distance they could see the "bankers" and a lot of the more
luckless ones being gathered together to march to the guard-house.
"Another detachment of horny-handed laborers for the fortifications,"
said Shorty grimly, as he52 recovered his breath, watched them, and sent
up a yell of triumph and derision. "Another contribution to the charity
fund," he continued, looking down at the bunch of bills and fractional
currency in his hands.

Shorty Settles With the Banker. 51

"Shorty," said Si earnestly, "promise me solemnly that you'll never bet
at chuck-a-luck agin as long as you live."

"Si, don't ask me impossibilities. But I want you to take every cent o'
this money and keep it. Don't you ever give me more'n $5 at a time,
under any consideration. Don't you do it, if I git down on my knees and
ask for it. Lord, how nigh I come to losin' that $50 o' your father's."



CHAPTER IV. A SPY'S EXPERIENCES MR. ROSENBAUM TELLS THE BOYS MORE OF HIS
ADVENTURES.

MR. ROSENBAUM became a frequent visitor to the Hoosier's Rest, and
generally greatly interested Si and Shorty with his stories of
adventure.

"How did you happen to come into the Army of the Cumberland?" asked Si.
"I'd a-thought you'd staid where you knowed the country and the people."

"That was just the trouble," replied Rosenbaum. "I got to know them very
well, but they got to know me a confounded sight better. When I was in
the clothing pizniss in St. Louis I tried to have everybody know me. I
advertised. I wanted to be a great big sunflower that everybody noticed.
But when I got to be a spy I wanted to be a modest little violet that
hid under the leaves, unt nobody saw. Then every man what knew me become
a danger, unt it got so that I shuddered every time that I see a limb
running out from a tree, for I didn't know how soon I might be hung from
it. I had some awful narrow escapes, I tell you.

"But what decided me to leave the country unt skip over de Mississippi
River was something that happened down in the Boston Mountains just
before the battle of Pea Ridge. I was down there watching Van Dorn unt
Ben McCullough for General Curtis, unt54 was getting along all right. I
was still playing the old racket about buying up Mexican silver dollars
to buy ammunition. One night I was sitting at a campfire with two or
three others, when a crowd of Texans come up. They was just drunk enough
to be devilish, unt had a rope with a noose on the end, which I noticed
first thing. I had begun to keep a sharp lookout for such things. My
flesh creeped when I saw them. I tried to think what had stirred them up
all at once, but couldn't for my life recollect, for everything had been
going on all right for several days. The man with the rope\x97a big, ugly
brute, with red hair unt one eye\x97says:

"'You're a Jew, ain't you?'

"'Yes,' says I; 'I was born that way.'

"'Well,' says he, 'we're going to hang you right off.' Unt he put the
noose around my neck unt began trying to throw the other end over a
limb."

Close Call for Rosenbaum. 54

"'What for?' I yelled, trying to pull the rope off my neck. 'I ain't
done nothing.'

"'Hain't eh?' said the man with one eye. 'You hook-nosed Jews crucified
our Savior.'

"'Why, you red-headed fool,' said I, catching hold of the rope with both
hands, 'that happened more as 1,800 years ago. Let me go.'

"'I don't care if it did,' said the one-eyed man, getting the end of the
rope over the limb, 'we didn't hear about it till the Chaplain told us
this morning, unt then the boys said we'd kill every Jew we come across.
Catch hold of the end here, Bowers.'

"The other fellers around me laughed at the Texans so that they finally
agreed to let me go if I'd promise not to do it again, holler for Jeff
Davis, unt treat all around. It was a fool thing, but it scared me
worse'n anything else, unt I resolved to get out of there unt go where
the people read their Bibles unt the newspapers."

"How did you manage to keep Gen. Curtis posted as to the number of
rebels in front of him?" asked Si. "You couldn't always be running back
and forth from one army to the other."

"O, that was easy enough. You see. General56 Curtis was advancing, unt
the rebels falling back most of the time. There was cabins every little
ways along the road. All these have great big fireplaces, built of
smooth rocks, which they pick up out of the creek unt wherever they can
find them.

"I'd go into these houses unt talk with the people unt play with the
children. I'd sit by the fire unt pick up a dead coal unt mark on these
smooth rocks. Sometimes I'd draw horses unt wagons unt men to amuse the
children. Sometimes I'd talk to the old folks about how long they'd been
in the country, how many bears unt deers the man had killed, how far it
was to the next place, how the roads run, unt so on, unt I'd make marks
on the jam of the fireplace to help me understand.

"The next day our scouts would come in unt see the marks unt understand
them just as well as if I'd wrote them a letter. I fixed it all up with
them before I left camp. I kin draw very well with a piece of charcoal.
I'd make pictures of men what would make the children unt old folks open
their eyes. Our scouts would understand which one meant Ben McCullough,
which one Van Dorn, which one Pap Price, unt so on. Other marks would
show which way each one was going unt how many men he hat with him. The
rebels never dropt on to it, but they came so close to it once or twice
that my hair stood on end."

"That curly mop of yours'd have a time standing on end," ventured
Shorty. "I should think it'd twist your neck off tryin' to."

"Well, something gave me a queer feeling about the throat one day when I
saw a rebel Colonel stop57 unt look very hard at a long letter which I'd
wrote this way on a rock.

"'Who done that?' he asked.

"'This man here,' says the old woman, 'He done it while he was gassing
with the old man unt fooling with the children. Lot o' pesky nonsense,
marking up de walls dat a-way.'

"'Looks like very systematic nonsense,' said the Colonel very stern unt
sour. 'There may be something in it. Did you do this?' said he, turning
to me.

"'Yes, sir,' said I, 'I have a bad habit of marking when I'm talking. I
always done it, even when I was a child. My mother used to often slap me
for spoiling the walls, but she could never break me of it.'

"'Humph,' said he, not at all satisfied with my story, unt looking at
the scratches harder than ever. 'Who are you, unt what are you doing
here?'

"I told him my story about buying Mexican silver dollars, unt showed him
a lot of the dollars I'd bought.

"'Your story ain't reasonable,' said he. 'You haven't done bizniss
enough to pay you for all the time you've spent around the army. I'll
put you under guard till I can look into your case.'

"He called to the Sergeant of the Guard, unt ordered him to take charge
of me. The Sergeant was that same dirty loafer. Bob Smiles, that I had
the trouble with by Wilson's Creek. He kicked me unt pounded me, unt put
me on my horse, with my hands tied behind me, unt my feet tied under the
horse's belly. I was almost dead by night, when we reached Headquarters.
They gave me something to58 eat, unt I laid down on the floor of the
cabin, wishing I was Pontius Pilate, so that I could crucify every man
in the Southern Confedrisy, especially Bob Smiles. An hour or two later
I heard Bob Smiles swearing again."

The Spy in Custody. 58

"'Make out the names of all the prisoners I have,' he was saying, 'with
where they belong unt the charges against them. I can't. Do they take me
for a counter-jumping clerk? I didn't come into the army to be a white-
faced bookkeeper, I sprained59 my thumb the other day, unt I can't write
even a Httle bit. What am I to do?'

"That was all moonshine about his spraining his thumb. He vas ignorant
as a jackass. If he had 40 thumbs he couldn't write even his own name
so's anybody could read it.

"'I don't believe these's a man in a mile of here that can make out such
a list,' he went on. They're all a set of hominy-eating blockheads.
Perhaps that hook-nosed Jew might. He's the man. I'll make him do it, or
break his swindling head.'

"He come in, kicked me, unt made me get up, unt then took me out unt set
me down at a table, where he had paper, pen unt ink, unt ordered me to
take down the names of the prisoners as he brought them up. He'd look
over my shoulder as I wrote, as if he was reading what I set down, but I
knowed that he couldn't make out a letter. I was tempted to write all
sorts of things about him, but I didn't, for I was in enough trouble
already. When I come to my own name, he said:

"'Make de charge a spy, a thief, unt a Dutch traitor to the Southern
Confedrisy.'

"I just wrote: 'Levi Rosenbaum, Memphis, Tenn. Merchant. No charge.'

"He scowled very wisely at it, unt pretended to read it, unt said:

"'It's lucky for you that you wrote it just as I told you. I'd 'a' broke
every bone in your body if you hadn't.'

"I'd just got done when an officer come down from Headquarters for it.
He looked it over unt said:

"'Who made this out?'

"'Why, I made it out,' said Bob Smiles, bold as brass.

"'But who wrote it?" said de officer.

"'O, I sprained my thumb, so I couldn't write very well, unt I made a
Jew prisoner copy it,' said Bob Smiles.

"'It's the best writing I have seen,' said the officer. 'I want the man
what wrote it to go with me to Headquarters at once. I have some copying
there to be done at once, unt not one of them corn-crackers that I have
up there can write anything fit to read. Bring that man out here unt I
will take him with me."

"Bob Smiles hated to let me go, but he couldn't help himself, unt I went
with the officer. I was so tired I could hardly move a step, unt I felt
I could not write a word. But I seemed to see a chance at Headquarters,
unt I determined to make every effort to do something. They gave me a
stiff horn of whisky unt set me to work. They wanted me to make out unt
copy a consolidated report of the army.

"I almost forgot I was tired when I found out what they wanted, for I
saw a chance to get something of great value. They'd been trying to make
up a report from all sorts of scraps unt sheets of paper sent in from
the different Headquarters, unt they had spoiled a half-dozen big sheets
of paper after they'd got them partly done. If I do say it myself, I can
write better and faster and figure quicker than most any man you ever
saw. Those rebels thought they had got hold of a wonder\x97a61 lightning
calculator unt lightning penman together.

"As fast as I could copy one paper, unt it would prove to be all right,
I would fold it up unt stick it into a big yaller envelope. I also
folded up the spoiled reports, unt stuck them in the envelope, saying
that I wanted to get rid of them\x97put them where seeing them wouldn't
bother me. I carefully slipped the envelope under the edge of a pile of
papers near the edge of the table. I had another big yaller envelope
that looked just like it lying in the middle of the table, into which I
stuck papers that didn't amount to nothing. I was very slick about it,
unt didn't let them see that I had two envelopes.

"It was past midnight when I got the consolidated report made out, unt
the rebels was tickled to death with it. They'd never seen anything so
well done before. They wanted a copy made to keep, unt I said I'd make
one, though I was nearly dead for sleep. I really wasn't, for the
excitement made me forget all about being tired.

"I was determined, before I slept, to have that yellow envelope, with
all those papers, in General Curtis's hands, though he was 40 miles
away. How in the world I was going to do it I could not think, but I was
going to do it, if I died a trying. The first thing was to get that
envelope off the table into my clothes; the next, to get out of that
cabin, away from Bob Smiles unt his guards, through the rebel lines, unt
over the mountains to General Curtis's camp. It was a dark, windy night,
unt things were in confusion about the camp\x97just the kind of a time
when62 anybody might kill a Jew pedler, unt no questions would be asked.

"I had got the last copy finished, unt the officers was going over it.
They had their heads together, not 18 inches from me, across the table.
I had my fingers on the envelope, but I didn't dare slip it out, though
my fingers itched. I was in hopes that they'd turn around, or do
something that'd give me a chance.

"Suddenly Bob Smiles opened the door wide, unt walked in, with a
dispatch in his hand. The wind swept in, blew the candles out, unt sent
de papers flying about the room. Some went into the fire. The officers
yelled unt swore at him, unt he shut the door, but I had the envelope in
my breast-pocket.

"Then to get away. How in the name of Moses unt the ten commandments was
I to do that?

"One of the officers said to Bob Smiles: 'Take this man away unt take
good care of him until to-morrow. We'll want him again. Give him a good
bed, unt plenty to eat, unt treat him well. We'll need him to-morrow.'

"'Come on, you pork-hating Jew,' said Bob Smiles crabbedly. 'I'll give
you a mess of spare-ribs unt corn-dodgers for supper.'

"'You'll do nothing of the kind,' said the officer. 'I told you to treat
him well, unt if you don't treat him well, I'll see about it. Give him a
bed in that house where de orderlies stay.'

"Bob Smiles grumbled unt swore at me, unt we vent out, but there was
nothing to do but to obey orders. He give me a good place, unt some
coffee unt bread, unt I lay down pretending to go to sleep.63

"I snored away like a good feller, unt presently I heard some one come
in. I looked a little out the corner of my eye, unt see by the light of
the fire that Bob Smiles was sneaking back. He watched me for a minute,
unt then put his hand on me.

"I was scared as I never was, for I thought he vas after my precious
yaller envelope. But I thought of my bowie knife, which I always carried
out of sight in my bosom, unt resolved dat I vould stick it in his
heart, if he tried to take away my papers. But I never moved. He felt
over me until he come to de pocket where I had the silver dollars, unt
then slipped his fingers in, unt pulled them out one by one, just as
gently as if he vas smoothing the hair of a cat. I let him take them
all, without moving a muscle. I was glad to haf him take them. I knowed
that he was playing poker somewhere, unt had run out of cash, unt would
take my money unt go back to his game.

"As soon as I heard his footsteps disappear in the distance, I got up
unt sneaked down to where the Headquarters horses were tied. I must get
a fresh one, because my own vas played nearly out. He would never do to
carry me over the rough roads I must ride before morning. But when I got
there I saw a guard pacing up unt down in front of them. I had not
counted on this, unt for a minit my heart stood still. There were no
other horses anywheres around.

"I hesitated, looked up at Headquarters, unt saw de lights still
burning, unt made up my mind at once to risk everything on one desperate
chance. I remembered that I had put in my envelope some64 blank sheets
of paper, with Headquarters, Army of the Frontier,' unt a rebel flag on
dem. There was a big fire burning ofer to the right mit no one near. I
went up in de shadow of a tree, where I could see by the firelight, took
out one of the sheets of paper unt wrote on it an order to have a horse
saddled for me at once. Then I slipped back so that it would look as if
I was coming straight from Headquarters, unt walked up to the guard unt
handed him the order. He couldn't read a word, but he recognized the
heading on the paper, unt I told him the rest. He thought there was
nothing for him to do but obey.

"While he was getting the horse I wrote out, by the fire, a pass for
myself through the guards. I was in a hurry, you bet, unt it was all
done mighty quick, unt I was on the horse's back unt started. I had lost
all direction, but I knowed that I had to go generally to the northeast
to get to General Curtis. But I got confused again, unt found I was
riding around unt around the camp without getting out at all. I even
come up again near the big fire, just where I wrote out the pass.

"Just then what should I hear but Bob Smiles's voice. He had lost all
his money\x97all my money\x97at poker, unt was damning the fellers he had been
playing with as cheats. He was not in a temper to meet, unt I knowed he
would see me if I went by the big fire; but I was desperate, unt I stuck
the spurs into my horse unt he shot ahead. I heard Bob Smiles yell:

"'There is that Jew. Where is he going? Halt, there! Stop him!'65

"I knowed that if I stopped now I would be hung sure. The only safety
was to go as fast as I could. I dashed away, where, I didn't know.
Directly a guard halted me, but I showed him my pass, unt he let me go
on. While he was looking at it I strained my ears, unt could hear horses
galloping my way. I knowed it was Bob Smiles after me. My horse was a
good one, unt I determined to get on the main road unt go as fast as I
could. I could see by the campfires that I was now getting away from the
army, unt I began to hope that I was going north. I kept my horse
running.

"Pretty soon the pickets halted me, but I didn't stop to answer them. I
just bolted ahead. The chances of their shooting me wasn't as dreadful
as of Bob Smiles catching me. They fired at me, but I galloped right
through them, unt through a rain of bullets that they sent after me. I
felt better then, for I was confident I was out in the open country, but
I kept my horse on the run. It seemed to me that I went a hundred miles.

"Just as the day was breaking in the east, I heard a voice, with a
strong German accent call out the brush:

"'Halt! Who comes there?'

Rosenbaum Runs Into Sigel's Pickets. 66

"I was so glad that I almost fainted, for I knowed that I'd reached
General Sigel's pickets. I couldn't get my lips to answer.

"There came a lot of shots, unt one of them struck my horse in the head,
unt he fell in the road, throwing me over his head. The pickets run out
unt picked me up. The German language sounded the sweetest I ever heard
it.66

"As soon as I could make myself talk, I answered them in German, unt
told them who I was. Then they couldn't do enough for me. They helped me
back to where they could get an ambulance, in which they sent me to
Headquarters, for I was top weak to ride or walk a step. I handed my
yellow envelope to General Curtis, got a dram of whisky to keep me up
while I answered his questions, unt then went to67 sleep, unt slept
through the whole battle of Pea Ridge.

"After the battle, General Curtis wanted to know how much he ought to
pay me, but I told him that all I wanted was to serve the country, unt I
was already paid many times over, by helping him win a victory.

"But I concluded that there was too much Bob Smiles in that country for
me, unt I had better leave for some parts where I was not likely to meet
him. So I crossed the Mississippi River, unt joined General Rosecrans's
Headquarters."



CHAPTER V. THE BOYS GO SPYING ON AN EXPEDITION WITH ROSENBAUM THEY MAKE
A CAPTURE.

MR. ROSENBAUM'S stories of adventure were not such as to captivate the
boys with the career of a spy. But the long stay in camp was getting
very tedious, and they longed for something to break the monotony of
camp guard and work on the interminable fortifications. Therefore, when
Mr. Rosenbaum came over one morning with a proposition to take them out
on an expedition, he found them ready to go. He went to Regimental
Headquarters, secured a detail for them, and, returning to the Hoosier's
Rest, found the boys lugubriously pulling over a pile of homespun
garments they had picked up among the teamsters and campfollowers.

"I suppose we've got to wear 'em, Shorty," said Si, looking very
disdainfully at a butternut-colored coat and vest. "But I'd heap rather
wear a mustard plaster. I'd be a heap comfortabler."

"I ain't myself finicky about clothes," answered Shorty. "I ain't no
swell\x97never was. But somehow I've got a prejudice in favor of blue as a
color, and agin gray and brown. I only like gray and brown on a corpse.
They make purty grave clothes. I always like to bury a man what has
butternut clothes on."69

"What are you doing with them dirty rags, boys?" asked Rosenbaum, in
astonishment, as he surveyed the scene.

"Why, we've got to wear 'em, haven't we, if we go out with you?" asked
Si.

"You wear them when you go out with me\x97you disguise yourselves," said
Rosenbaum, with fine scorn. "You'd play the devil in disguise. You can't
disguise your tongues. That's the worst. Anybody'd catch on to that
Indianny lingo first thing. You've got to speak like an educated
man\x97speak like I do\x97to keep people from finding out where you're from. I
speak correct English always. Nobody can tell where I'm from."

The boys had hard work controlling their risibles over Mr. Rosenbaum's
self-complacency.

"What clothes are we to wear, then?" asked Si, much puzzled.

"Wear what you please; wear the clothes you have on, or anything else.
This is not to be a full-dress affair. Gentlemen can attend in their
working clothes if they want to."

"I don't understand," mumbled Si.

"Of course, you don't," said Rosenbaum gaily. "If you did, you would
know as much as I do, unt I wouldn't have no advantage."

"All right," said Shorty. "We've decided to go it blind. Go ahead. Fix
it up to suit yourself. We are your huckleberries for anything that you
kin turn up. It all goes in our $13 a month."

"O. K.," answered Rosenbaum. "That's the right way. Trust me, unt I will
bring you out all straight. Now, let me tell you something. When you70
captured me, after a hard struggle, as you remember (and he gave as much
of a wink as his prominent Jewish nose would admit), I was an officer on
General Roddey's staff. It was, unt still is, my business to keep up
express lines by which the rebels are supplied with quinine, medicines,
gun-caps, letters, giving information, unt other things. Unt I do it."

The boys opened their eyes wide, and could not restrain an exclamation
of surprise.

"Now, hold your horses; don't get excited," said Rosenbaum calmly. "You
don't know as much about war as I do\x97not by a hundred per cent. These
things are always done in every war, unt General Rosecrans understands
the tricks of war better as any man in the army. He beats them all when
it comes to getting information about the enemy. He knows that a dog
that fetches must carry, unt that the best way is to let a spy take a
little to the enemy, unt bring a good deal back.

"The trouble at the battle of Stone River was that the spies took more
to General Bragg than they brought to General Rosecrans. But General
Rosecrans was new to the work then. It won't be so in future. He knows a
great deal more about the rebels now than they know about him, thanks to
such men as me."

"I don't know as we ought to have anything to do with this, Shorty,"
said Si dubiously. "At least, we ought to inquire of the Colonel first."

"That's all right\x97that's all right," said Rosenbaum quickly. "I've got
the order from the Colonel which will satisfy you. Read it yourself."

He handed the order to Si, who looked carefully71 at the printed
heading, "Headquarters, 200th Ind., near Murfreesboro', Tenn.," and then
read the order aloud to Shorty: "Corporal Josiah Klegg and one private,
whom he may select, will report to Mr. Levi Rosenbaum for special duty,
and will obey such orders and instructions as he may give, and on return
report to these Headquarters. By order of the Colonel. Philip Blake,
Adjutant."

"That seems all straight. Shorty," said Si, folding up the order, and
putting it in his pocket.

"Straight as a string," assented Shorty. "I'm ready, anyway. Go ahead,
Mr. Cheap Clothing. I don't care much what it is, so long's it ain't
shovelin' and diggin' on the fortifications. I'll go down to Tullahoma
and pull old Bragg out of his tent rather than handle a pick and shovel
any longer."

"Well, as I was going to tell you, I have been back to Tullahoma several
times since you captured me, unt I have got the express lines between
here unt there running pretty well. I have to tell them all sorts of
stories how I got away from the Yankees. Luckily, I have a pretty good
imagination, unt can furnish them with first-class narratives.

"But there is one feller on the staff that I'm afraid of. His name is
Poke Bolivar, unt he is a terrible feller, I tell you. Always full of
fight, unt desperate when he gets into a fight. I've seen him bluff all
those other fellers. He is a red-hot Secessionist, unt wants to kill
every Yankee in the country. Of late he has seemed very suspicious of
me, unt has said lots of things that scared me. I want to settle him,
either kill him or take him prisoner, unt keep him away, so's I can feel
greater ease when I'm in72 General Bragg's camp. I can't do that so long
as I know he's around, for I feel that his eyes are on me, unt that he's
hunting some way to trip me up.

"I'm going out now to meet him, at a house about five miles from the
lines. I have my pockets unt the pockets on my saddles full of letters
unt things. Just outside the lines I will get some more. He will meet me
unt we will go back to Tullahoma together\x97that is, if he don't kill me
before we get there. I have brought a couple of revolvers, in addition
to your guns, for Poke Bolivar's a terrible feller to fight, unt I want
you to make sure of him. I'd take more'n two men out, but I'm afraid
he'd get on to so many.

"I guess we two kin handle him," said Shorty, slipping his belt into the
holster of the revolver and buckling it on. "Give us a fair show at him,
and we don't want no help. I wouldn't mind having it out with Mr.
Bolivar all by myself."

"Well, my plan is for you to go out by yourselves to that place where
you were on picket. Then take the right-hand road through the creek
bottom, as if you were going foraging. About two miles from the creek
you will see a big hewed-log house standing on the left of the road. You
will know it by its having brick outside chimneys, unt de doors painted
blue unt yaller. There's no other house in that country like it.

"You're to keep out of sight as much as you can. Directly you will see
me come riding out, follered by a nigger riding another horse. I will go
up to the house, jump off, tie my horse, go inside, unt presently come
out unt tie a white cloth to73 a post on the porch. That will be a
signal to Poke Bolivar, who will be watching from the hill a mile ahead.
You will see him come in, get off his horse, unt go into the house.

"By this time it will be dark, or nearly so. You slip up as quietly as
you can, right by the house, hiding yourselves behind the lilacs. If the
dogs run at you bayonet them. You can look through the windows, unt see
me unt Bolivar sitting by the fire talking, unt getting ready to start
for Tullahoma as soon as the nigger who is cooking our supper in the
kitchen outside gets it ready unt we eat it. You can wait till you see
us sit down to eat supper, unt then jump us. Better wait until we are
pretty near through supper, for I'll be very hungry, unt want all I can
get to keep me up for my long ride.

"You run in unt order us to surrender. I'll jump up unt blaze away with
my revolver, but you needn't pay much attention to me\x97only be careful
not to shoot me. While you are 'tending to Bolivar I'll get on my horse
unt skip out. You can kill Bolivar, or take him back to camp with you,
or do anything that you please, so long's you keep him away from
Tullahoma. You understand, now?"

"Perfectly," said Shorty. "I think we can manage it, and it looks like a
pretty good arrangement. You are to git away, and we're to git Mr.
Bolivar. Those two things are settled. Any change in the evening's
program will depend on Mr. Bolivar. If he wants a fight he kin git whole
gobs of it."

Going over the plan again, to make sure that the boys understood it, and
cautioning them once more as to the sanguinary character of Polk
Bolivar,74 Mr. Rosenbaum started for his horse. He had gone but a little
ways when he came back with his face full of concern.

"I like you boys better than I can tell you," he said, taking their
hands affectionately, "unt I never would forgive myself if you got hurt.
Do you think that two of you'll be able to manage Poke Bolivar? If
you're not sure I'll get another man to help you. I think that I had
better, anyway."

"O, go along with you," said Shorty scornfully. "Don't worry about us
and Mr. Bolivar. I'd stack Si Klegg up against any man that ever wore
gray, in any sort of a scrimmage he could put up, and I'm a better man
than Si. You just favor us with a meeting with Mr. Bolivar, and then git
out o' the way. If it wasn't for dividing up fair with my partner here
I'd go out by myself and tackle Mr. Bolivar. You carry out your share of
the plan, and don't worry about us."

Rosenbaum's countenance brightened, and he hastened to mount and away.
The boys shouldered their guns and started out for the long walk. They
followed Rosenbaum's directions carefully, and arrived in sight of the
house, which they recognized at once, and got into a position from which
they could watch its front. Presently they saw Rosenbaum come riding
along the road and stop in front of the house. He tied his horse to a
scraggy locust tree, went in, and then reappeared and fastened the
signal to a post supporting the roof of the porch.

Watching the House. 75

They had not long to wait for the answer. Soon a horseman was seen
descending from the distant hill. As he came near he was anxiously
scanned,75 and appeared a cavalier so redoubtable as to fully justify
Rosenbaum's apprehensions. He was a tall, strongly-built young man, who
sat on his spirited horse with easy and complete mastery of him. Even at
that distance it could be seen that he was heavily armed.

"Looks like a genuine fighter, and no mistake," said Si, examining the
caps on his revolver. "He'll be a stiff one to tackle."76

"We must be very careful not to let him get the drop on us," said
Shorty. "He looks quicker'n lightnin', and I've no doubt that he kin
shoot like Dan'l Boone. We might drop him from here with our guns," he
added suggestively.

"No," said Si, "that wouldn't be fair. And it wouldn't be the way
Rosenbaum wants it done. He's got his reasons for the other way.
Besides, I'd be a great deal better satisfied in my mind, if I could
have it out with him, hand-to-hand. It'd sound so much better in the
regiment."

"Guess that's so," assented Shorty. "Well, let's sneak up to the house."

When they got close to the house they saw that it had been deserted;
there were no dogs or other domestic animals about, and this allowed
them to get under the shade of the lilacs without discovery. The only
inmates were Rosenbaum and Bolivar, who were seated before a fire, which
Rosenbaum had built in the big fireplace in the main room. The negro was
busy cooking supper in the outbuilding which served as a kitchen. The
glass was broken out the window, and they could hear the conversation
between Rosenbaum and Bolivar.

It appeared that Rosenbaum had been making a report of his recent
doings, to which Bolivar listened with a touch of disdain mingled with
suspicion.

The negro brought in the supper, and the men ate it sitting by the fire.


077 (80K)

"I declare," said Bolivar, stopping with a piece of bread and meat in
one hand and a tin-cup of coffee in the other, "that for a man who is
devoted to the77 South you can mix up with these Yankees with less
danger to yourself and to them than any man I ever knew. You never get
hurt, and you never hurt any of them. That's a queer thing for a
soldier. War means hurting people, and getting hurt yourself. It means
taking every chance to hurt some of the enemy. I never miss any
opportunity of killing a Yankee, no matter what I may be doing, or what
the risk is to me. I can't help myself. Whenever I see a Yankee in range
I let him have it. I never go near their lines without killing at
least78 one."

Shorty's thumb played a little with his gunlock, but Si restrained him
with a look.

"Well," said Rosenbaum, "I hates the enemy as badly as any one can, but
I always have business more important at the time than killing men. I
want to get through with what I have to do, unt let other men do the
killing. There's enough gentlemen like you for that work."

"No, there's not enough," said Bolivar savagely. "It's treasonable for
you to say so. Our enemies outnumber us everywhere. It is the duty of
every true Southern man to kill them off at every chance, like he would
rattlesnakes and wolves. You are either not true to the South, or you
hain't the right kind of grit. Why, you have told me yourself that you
let two Yankees capture you, without firing a shot. Think of it; a
Confederate officer captured by two Yankee privates, without firing a
shot."

"They had the dead drop on me," murmured Rosenbaum. "If I had moved
they'd killed me sure."

"Dead drop on you!" repeated Bolivar scornfully. "Two men with muskets
have the dead drop on you! And you had a carbine and a revolver. Why, I
have ridden into a nest of 10 or 15 Yankees, who had me covered with
their guns. I killed three of them, wounded three others, and run the
rest away with my empty revolver. If I'd had another revolver, not one
would've got away alive. I always carry two revolvers now."

"I think our guns'll be in the way in that room," said Shorty, sotting
his down. His face bore a look of stern determination. "They're too
long. I'm itching to have it out with that feller hand-to-hand.79 We'll
rush in. You pretend to be goin' for Rosenbaum and leave me to have it
out with Mr. Bolivar. Don't you mix in at all. If I don't settle him he
ought to be allowed to go."

"No," said Si decisively. "I'm your superior officer, and it's my
privilege to have the first shy at him. I'll 'tend to him. I want a
chance singlehanded at a man that talks that way. You take care of
Rosenbaum."

"We mustn't dispute," said Shorty, stooping down and picking up a couple
of straws. "Here, pull. The feller that gits the longest 'tends to
Bolivar; the other to Rosenbaum."

Si drew and left the longer straw in Shorty's hand. They drew their
revolvers and rushed for the room, Shorty leading, Rosenbaum and Bolivar
sprang up in alarm at the sound of their feet on the steps, and drew
their revolvers.

"Surrender, you infernal rebels," shouted the boys, as they bolted
through the door.

With the quickness of a cat, Rosenbaum had sidled near the door through
which they had come. Suddenly he fired two shots into the ceiling, and
sprang through the door so quickly that Si had merely the chance to fire
a carefully-aimed shot through the top of his hat. Si jumped toward the
door again, and fired a shot in the air, for still further make-believe.
He would waste no more, but reserve the other four for Bolivar, if he
should need them.

Shorty confronted Bolivar with fierce eyes and leveled revolver, eagerly
watching every movement and expression. The rebel was holding his pistol
pointed upward, and his eyes looked savage. As his eyes met Shorty's the
latter was amazed to see him close the left with a most emphatic wink.
Seeing this was recognized, the rebel fired two shots into the ceiling,
and motioned with his left hand to Si to continue firing. Without quite
understanding. Si fired again. The rebel gave a terrific yell and fired
a couple of shots out the window.

"Do the same," he said to Shorty, who complied, as Si had done, in half-
comprehension. The rebel handed his revolver to Shorty, stepped to the
window and listened.

The Surprise 79

There came the sounds of two horses galloping away on the hard, rocky
road.

"He's gone, and taken the nigger with him," he said contentedly, turning
from the window, and giving another fierce yell. "Better fire the other
two shots out of that pistol, to hurry him along."

Shorty fired the remaining shots out of the rebel's revolver.

"What regiment do you belong to, boys?" asked Bolivar calmly.

"The 200th Ind.," answered Si, without being able to control his
surprise.

"A very good regiment," said the rebel. "What's your company?"

"Co. Q," answered Si.

"Who's your Colonel?"

"Col. Duckworth."

"Who's your Captain?"

"Capt. McGillicuddy."

"All right," said the rebel, with an air of satisfaction. "I asked those
questions to make sure you were genuine Yankees. One can't be too
careful in my business. I'm in the United States Secret Service, and
have to be constantly on the watch to keep it from being played on me by
men pretending to be Yankees when they are rebels, and rebels when they
are Yankees. I always make it the first point to ask them the names of
their officers. I know almost all the officers in command on both
sides."

"You in the Secret Service?" exploded the boys.82

They were on the point of adding "too," but something whispered to them
not to betray Rosenbaum.

"Yes," answered Bolivar. "I've just come from Tullahoma, where I've been
around Bragg's Headquarters. I wanted to get inside our lines, but I was
puzzled how to do it. That Jew you've just run off bothered me. I wish
to the Lord you'd killed him. I'm more afraid of him than any other man
in Bragg's army. He's smart as a briar, always nosing around where you
don't want him, and anxious to do something to commend him to
Headquarters, Jew like. I've thought he suspected me, for he'd been
paying special attention to me for some weeks. Two or three times I've
been on the point of tailing him into the woods somewhere and killing
him, and so get rid of him. It's all right now. He'll go back to
Tullahoma with a fearful story of the fight I made against you, and that
I am probably killed. I'll turn up there in a week or two with my own
story, and I'll give him fits for having skipped out and left me to
fight you two alone. Say, it's a good ways to camp. Let's start at once,
for I want to get to Headquarters as soon as possible."

"You've got another revolver there," said Si, who had prudently reloaded
his own weapon.

"That's so," said Bolivar, pulling it out. "You can take and carry it or
I'll take the cylinder out, if you are not convinced about me."

"You'd better let me carry it," said Shorty, shoving the revolver in his
own belt. "These are queer times, and one can't be too careful with
rebels who83 claim to be Yankees, and Yankees who claim to be rebels."

They trudged back to camp, taking turns riding the horse. When the rebel
rode, however, one of the boys walked alongside with the bridle in his
hand. All doubts as to Bolivar's story were dispelled by his instant
recognition by the Provost-Marshal, who happened to be at the picket-
post when they reached camp.

"The longer I live," remarked Shorty, as they made their way along to
the Hoosier's Rest, "and I seem to live a little longer every day, the
less I seem to understand about this war."

Shorty spoke as if he had had an extensive acquaintance with wars.

"The only thing that I've come to be certain about," assented Si, "is
that you sometimes most always can't generally tell."

And they proceeded to get themselves some supper, accompanying the work
of denunciations of the Commissary for the kind of rations he was
drawing for the regiment, and of the Orderly-Sergeant for his letting
the other Orderlies eucher him out of the company's fair share.



CHAPTER VI. LETTER FROM HOME THE DEACON'S TROUBLES IN GETTING HOME WITH
ABRAHAM LINCOLN.

ONE MORNING the Orderly-Sergeant handed Si the following letter:

Deer Son: I got hoam safely a weke ago, thanks 2 all-protecting
Providens; likewise 2 about 175 pound of tuff & helthy Josiah Klegg.
Providens helpt rite along, but it tuk 50-year-old Injianny hickory &
whit-leather 2 pull through sum ov the tite plasis.

Abraham Lincoln is as strong as an ox, but I never thought that anything
that diddent wear horns or chew the cud could be so measly dumb. He kin
eat as much as Buck, our off-steer, & I declare I don't believe he knows
any more.

We had only bin on the train long enuff for Abe to finish up the whole
of the 3 days rations you provided us with 2 last us home, when I notist
that Blowhard Billings was on board. He was still dressed in full
uniform, & playin off officer yit, but I happened 2 recolleck that he
was no officer no more, & it wuz lucky that I done so. He wuz lookin at
me & Abe hard with them mean, fatfish ize ov hizn.

Jest as a matter ov precaushon. I make Abe change seats with me & taik
the inside. Billings85 caim up. You know what I thought ov him ov old, &
there's never bin any love lost betwixt us sence I stopped him cheatin
poor Eli Mitchell outen his plow-team. I told him then that the coppers
on a dead nigger's eyes wuzzent saif when he wuz around, & I woulddent
trust him ez fur ez I could sling a bull by the tale. He got mad at this
& never got over it. I never encouraged him to. I woulddent feel
satisfied with myself if he wuzzent mad at me. I coulddent change my
opinion, even when he tried to steal into respectability by goin into
the army. I knowed he'd do anything but fite, & woulddent've bin
supprized any day by hearing that him and the other mules in camp had
disappeared together.

Presently Billings he cum up very corjil like & says:

"Howdy, Deacon. I hope you air very well."

I told him I wuz tollable peart, and he says:

"I see a man in the third car forward that wuz inquiring for you, and
wanted to see you powerful bad."

"That so?" says I, unconcernedlike.

"Yes," says he. "He wuz awful anxious to see you, and I said I'd send
you to him if I cum acrost you."

Somehow, I dropped onto it in a minnit that he wuz schemin' to git me
away from Abraham Lincoln\x97

"Well," says I, "it's about ez fur for me forward to him as it is for
him back here to me. I don't know as I want to see him at all. If he
wants to see me so bad let him cum back here."86

"I think I'd go forward and see him," said Billings, sort ov impatient-
like. "You'll have no trouble finding him. He's in the third car from
here, up at the front end, right-hand side, next to the watercooler. He
inquired most partickerlerly for you."

"Probably he wants 2 borry money," says I, without stirrin'. "Men that
want particularly 2 see me always do. Well, I hain't got none 2
lend\x97hain't got no more'n 'll talk me hoam."

"You'd better go forward & see him," he said very bossy like, as if he
was orderin me.

"I'd better stay right here, & I'm goin' to stay," says I, so decided
that Billings see that it was no use.

His patience gave clean away.

"Look here, Klegg," said he, mad as a hornet, "I'm after that ere nigger
you're trying to steal away into Injianny, and by the holy poker I'm
goin' to have him! Come along here, you black ape," and he laid his hand
on Abe Lincoln's collar. Abe showed the white ov his eyes as big as
buckeyes, put his arm around the piece betwixt the winders, and held on
for deer life. I see by the grip he tuk that the only way 2 git him wuz
2 tear out the side of the car, and I thought I'd let them tussle it out
for a minnit or 2.

The others in the car who thought it grate fun to see a Lieutenant-
Kurnol wrastlin' with a nigger, laffed and yelled:

"Go it, nigger,"

"Go it, Kurnel,"

"Grab a root,"

"I'l bet on the nigger if the car is stout onuf,"87 and sich. Jest then
Groundhog cum runnin' up to help Billings, and reached over and ketched
Abe, but I hit him a good biff with the musket that changed his mind.
Billings turned on me, and called out to the others:

"Men, I order you to arrest this man and tie him up."

Sum ov them seemed a-mind to obey, but I sung out:

"Feller-citizens, he ain't no officer\x97no more'n I am. He ain't got no
right to wear shoulder-straps, and he knows it as well as I do."

At this they all turned agin him & began yellin at him 2 put his head in
a bag. He turned 2 me savage as a meat-ax, but I ketched him by the
throat, & bent him back over the seat. The Provo-Guard cum up, & I
explained it 2 them, & showed my passes for me & Abe. So they made us
all sit down & keep quiet.

Bimeby we got to Nashville. Abe Lincoln wuz hungry, & I stopped 2 git
him something to eat. My gracious, the lot ov ham & aigs at 50 cents a
plate & sandwiches at 25 cents a piece that contraband kin eat. He never
seemed 2 git full. He looked longingly at the pies, but I let him look.
I wuzzent runnin no Astor House in connexion with the Freedmen's buro.

We walked through the city, crost on the ferry, & wuz jest gittin in the
cars which wuz about ready 2 start, when up comes Billings agin, with 2
or 3 other men in citizen's cloze. One ov these claps his hand on my
shoulder & says:

"I'm a Constable, & I arrest you in the name ov88 the State ov Tennessee
for abductin a slave. Make no trubble, but come along with me."

I jest shook him off, & clumb onto the platform, pullin Abe after me.
The Constable & his men follered us, but I got Abe Lincoln inside the
door, shet it & made him put his shoulders agin it. The Constable & his
2 assistants wuz buttin away at it, & me grinnin at them when the train
pulled off, & they had 2 jump off. I begin 2 think there wuz something
good in Abe Lincoln, after all, & when we stopped at an eatin-plais,
about half-way 2 Louisville, & Abe looked at the grub as if he haddent
had a mouthful sence the war begun, I busted a $2-bill all 2 pieces
gittin' him a little supper. If I wuz goin into the bizniss ov freein
slaves I'd want 2 have a mule train haulin grub follering me at every
step.

Abe wuz awful hungry agin when we reached Louisville, but I found a
place where a dollar would buy him enuf pork & beans 2 probably last him
over the river.

But I begun 2 be efeard that sum nosin pryin Mike Medler might make
trubble in gitting Abe safely acrost the Ohio. I tuk him 2 a house, &
laid it down strong 2 him that he must stay inside all day, and 2 make
sure I bargained with the woman 2 keep him eating as much as she could.
I ruined a $5 bill, & even then Abe looked as if he could hold some
more. I've always made it a pint 2 lend 2 the Lord for the benefit ov
the heathen as much as my means would allow, but I begun 2 think that my
missionary contribushions this year would beat what I was layin out on
my family.89

After it got dark, me & Abe meandered down through the streets 2 the
ferry. There wuzzent many people out, except soljers, & I've got 2 feel
purty much at home with them. They seem more likely 2 think more nearly
my way than folks in every-day clothes.

There wuz quite a passel ov soljers on the wharf boat waitin' for the
ferry when we got there. They saw at wuns that I had probably bin down 2
the front 2 see my son, & sum ov them axed me 2 what rigiment he
belonged. When I told them the 200th Injianny Volunteer Infantry they
all made friends with me at wunst, for they said they knowed it wuz a
good rigiment.

Bimeby a big, important-lookin' man, with a club with a silver head for
a cane, cum elbowin through the crowd & scowling at everybody as if he
owned the wharf-boat & all on it. He stopped in frunt ov Abraham Lincoln
& says very sharp & cross:

"Boy, where did you come from?"

Abe diddent say nothin'. His ize got all white, he grinned sort ov
scared like, showed his white teeth, & looked sickly over at me. I spoke
up & says:

"I brung him along with me from Murfreesboro'."

"So I sposed," said he. "He's a slave you're tryin 2 steal from his
master. You can't do it. I'll jest take charge ov him myself. That's my
dooty here," & he ketched hold ov Abraham Lincoln's collar. Abe, in his
scare, put out his arms to ketch hold ov something, & throwed them
around the big important man, & lifted him clean offen his feet. I never
before realized how strong Abe wuz. The soljers gethered around, purty
mad, and then laffin and90 yellin when they see the man in Abe's arms.
Suddenly sum one hollered:

"Throw him overboard; throw him in the river." Abe was wuss scared than
ever when he found he had the man in his arms. He wuz afeared 2 hold on
& still more afeared 2 let go. He heard them hollerin, & thought he had
2 do jest as they said, & begun edgin toward the river.

The man got more scared than Abe. He began kickin & wrigglin & hollerin:

"Don't let him do it. Help me. I can't swim a lick."

At this the men hollered worsen ever:

"Throw him in the river! Duck him! Baptize him! Drown him!"

I'm a Baptist, but I don't believe in immersion onless the convert has
bin prepared for it, & is willin, which neither this man wuz. I stepped
forward 2 make Abe let him down, but before T could do anything Abe had
got 2 the edge of the wharfboat & let go, & plunk went the man into
about 10 foot ov water. Abe, scared now nearly 2 death, stood there with
his ize biggern sassers & whitern goose-eggs.

In a minnit the man cum up, sputterin & hollerin. A big Sergeant, with
his left arm in a sling, reached over & ketchod him by the collar & held
his head above water.

"If I pull you out will you promis 2 go out ov the niggor-kotchin
bizniss forever?" axed the Sergeant.

"Pull me out & then I'll talk 2 you," says the man grabbin for the
slippery sides ov the wharfboat.91

"No, I won't," said the Sergeant, sousin him under water agin.

"Yes, yes, I'll promise," says the man, when he come up agin.

"Will you swear it?" axed the Sergeant.

"Yes, I'll swear it before a Justice ov the Peace."

"Will you swear 2 support the Constitution ov the United States agin all
enemies & opposers whatsumever, & vote for Abraham Lincoln every time?"
axed the Sergeant.

"I'll take the oath ov allegiance," says the man, sputterin the water
out ov his mouth, "but I'll never vote for that Abolition ape as long as
I live."

"Then down you go," says the Sergeant, sousin him again.

"Yes, yes, I'll vote for Abe Lincoln, & anybody else, if you'll only
pull me out," said the man, in a tired tone of voice, when he cum up
agin. I begin 2 see that immersion had a great deal ov good in it, even
if a man isn't prepared & willin.

"Will you swear 2 always love a nigger as a man & a brother, until death
do you part, & aid & comfort all them who are tryin 2 git away from
slavery?" axed the Sergeant.

"Damned if I will," says the man. "No nigger kin ever be a brother 2 me.
I'll die first."

"Then you'll die right now," says the Sergeant, sendin him down as far
as his long arm would reach & holding him there until I wuz scared for
fear he wuz really goin 2 drown the man. When he brung him up the man
whimpered:

"Yes, only pull me out\x97save my life\x97& I'll do anything you want."92

By this time the ferryboat had cum up. We got aboard & crost over to
Injianny, & I felt so glad at bein on my nativ soil wuns more that I
took Abe up 2 the eatin stand, & blowed in a dollar filin up the vacant
plasis in his hide.

When we tried 2 git on the train there cum another trubble: The
conductor woulddent let him ride in the car with white folks\x97not even in
the smokin-car. He made him go into the baggage-car. Abe wuz so scared
about leavin me for a minnit in' that strange country that I tried 2 go
into the baggage-car with him, but the conductor woulddent let me. He
said it wuz agin the rules for passengers to ride in the baggage-cars,
but Abe could go in there, same as dogs, prize poultry, & household
pets. I tried 2 joke with him, tellin him that in sum plasis I wuz
considered a household pet, but he said Ide have 2 git another mug on me
before he could believe it.

One of Zeke Biltner's hogs ditched the train jest before we got home, &
turned the baggage-car over. Sum crates ov aigs wuz smashed over Abraham
Lincoln, & he wuz a sight to behold. He wuz awfully scared, though, &
begged me 2 let him go the rest ov the way on foot. He said he wuz a
thousand years older than when he left his ole massa, & I could
understand what he meant.

I found your mother & the girls bright & chipper & jest tickled 2 death
to see me safe back. They axed me so many questions about you & Shorty
that my head buzzed like a bee-hive. It is hard 2 git away from them 2
tend 2 my Spring work, but I've made an arrangement 2 giv em an hour
mornin93 & evenin 2 answerin questions. I think this will keep me purty
busy till the snow flise agin.

Wheat is lookin surprisinly well, though I found sum bare plasis in the
north field. I think we'll have a fair crop ov apples and peaches. Your
colt is growin up the purtiest thing that ever went on four legs, &
jumped an eight-rail fence. My hogs wintered in good shape, & pork is
risin. They have the measles over on the Crick, & school's broke up.
Bill Scripp's out agin for Sheriff, & I spose I'le have 2 turn 2 agin &
beat him. Singler, that he'll never know when he's got enuff.

If anything, Abraham Lincoln's appetite has bin improved by Wabash air.
I wuzzent goin 2 have the wimmen folks wear theirselves out cookin for
him. So I fix-ed up a place for him in the old log house, & took him
over some sides ov meat, a few bushel ov pertaters, a jug ov sorghum
molasses, & every time mother bakes she sends over some leaves ov bread.
I jest turned him loose there. He seems 2 be very happy, & we hear him
singin & yellin most all the time when he's by hisself. He's a good
worker when I stand right over him, & he'll lift & dig as patient as an
ox. But he hain't no more sense about goin ahead by hisself than a steer
has, & the moment my back's turned he stops work. Ime af eared I've got
a job on my hands makin a firstclass farmer out ov him. But if that's my
share ov the work that Providens has chalked out for me, there's nothin
left for me but 2 go ahead & do it in fear & tremblin.

No more from your affeckshionate father.

P. S. Give my best respects 2 Shorty.



CHAPTER VII. CORN PONE AND BUTTERMILK SI AND SHORTY GO FORAGING AND ARE
CAPTURED AND ROBBED

SI AND SHORTY got the common feeling of men of some months' service,
that they had fully mastered the art of war, and that there was little,
if anything, left for them to learn. It did not take some men even so
long as months to acquire this pleasant idea of themselves. Some entered
the army feeling quite capable of giving advice to the oldest General in
it, and they were not slow about offering their opinions.

Si and Shorty had had successes enough since their enlistment to develop
a self-confidence which might be pardoned if it expanded into self-
sufficiency and vanity.

The 200th Ind. had been sent out on a reconnoissance toward Shelbyville.
No sign of rebels in force developed in any direction, and Si and Shorty
got permission to go off on a little scout of their own.

"No use o' huntin' rebels with a brass band," said Si, who, since his
association with Mr. Rosenbaum, had gotten some idea that stealth and
cunning were efficient war powers. "We kin jest slip around out here
somewhere, and if there is any rebels, find 'em, and git more
information than the whole regiment kin."

"I'm not so thirsty for information and rebels95 as I am for some fresh
buttermilk," said Shorty. "Somehow, I've been hankering for buttermilk
and cornpone for days. I hain't had any for a coon's age, and it'd go
mighty good as a change from camp rations. Buttermilk and rebels
sometimes grow near together. You look for one, I'll look for the other.
Mebbe we kin git both."

"I wouldn't mind havin' some buttermilk an' cornpone myself," said Si.
"But I'd like much better to drop on some rebels somewhere, and bring
'em into camp, and show that we kin git more information than the whole
regiment kin."

"All right," assented Shorty; "ask the Captain to let us go. I'll be
bound we'll find something worth goin' for, if it's no more'n a chicken
for the Captain's supper. I'd like to take in one for him. He's been
mighty good to me and you in several ways, and I'd like to show him that
we appreciate it."

As the regiment had gone as far as ordered without discovering anything
that in the least threatened the peace in that portion of Tennessee, it
would start on its return, after the men had rested and had dinner. Si
and Shorty, consequently, had no difficulty in securing the desired
permission.

They cut off through a side-road, which gave promise of leading into a
better-settled part of the country than that they had been traversing. A
mile or so of walking brought them in sight of the substantial chimneys
of a farmhouse showing above the trees. A glimpse of a well-fenced field
roused warm hopes in Shorty's heart.

"Now, I think we're comin' to a better thing than we've ever struck
before," said he, as they stopped96 and surveyed the prospect. "We've
got out o' the barren plateaus and into the rich farming country. That's
likely a farm jest like they have up in Injianny, and it's way off where
they hain't knowed nothin' o' the war. No soljer's ever anigh 'em, and
they've jest got lots and plenty o' everything. They've got a great big
barnyard full o' chickens and turkeys, pigs and geese and guineas.
There, you kin hear the guineas hollerin' now. There's cows layin' in
the shade chawin' the cud, while their calves are cavortin' around in
the sun, hogs rootin' in the woods-pasture, horses and sheep in the
medder, and everything like it is at home. And down a little ways from
the house there's a cool springhouse, with clear, cold water wellin' up
and ripplin' out over the clean, white sand, with crocks o' fresh milk
setting in it with cream half an inch thick, and big jars o' buttermilk
from the last churnin', and piggins o' fresh butter, and mebbe a big
crock full o' smearkase. Si, do you like smearkase?"

"'Deed I do," answered Si, his mouth watering at the thought. "My
goodness, you jest orter eat some o' mother's smearkase. She jest lays
over all the women in the country for smearkase. Many's the time I've
come in hot and sweatin from the field, and got a thick slice o' bread
clear acrost the loaf from one o' the girls, and went down to our
spring-house and spread it with fresh butter, and then put a thick layer
o' smearkase on top o' that, and then got about a quart o' cool milk,
that was half cream, from ono o' the crocks, and then\x97"

"Shot up, Si," shouted Shorty, desperately. "Do you want me to bang you
over the head with my97 musket? Do you s'pose I kin stand everything?
But I believe there's jest sich a spring-house down there, and we'll
find it plumb-full o' all them sort o' things. Le's mosey on."

"Do you think there's any rebels around here?" said Si, the caution
which experience had taught him making a temporary reassertion of
itself.

"Naw," said Shorty, contemtpuously, "there ain't no rebel this side o'
the Duck River, unless some straggler, who'd run if he saw us. If we
ketch sight o' one we'll take him into camp, jest to gratify you. But I
ain't lookin' for none. Buttermilk and cornpone's what I want."

The scene was certainly peaceful enough to justify Shorty's confidence.
A calmer, quieter landscape could not have been found in the whole
country. A negro was plowing in a distant field, with occasional
sonorous yells to his team. He did not seem to notice the soldiers, nor
did a gray-haired white man who was sitting on the fence superintending
him. A couple of negresses were washing the family linen by a fire under
a large kettle on the creek bank, at some distance from the house, and
spreading the cleansed garments out on the grass to dry and bleach.
Cattle and horses were feeding on the fresh Spring grass and sheep
browsing on the bushes on the hillside. Hens cackled and roosters
crowed; the guineas, ever on the lookout, announced their approach with
shrill, crackling notes. Two or three dogs waked up and barked lazily at
them as they walked up the path to where an elderly, spectacled woman
sat on the porch knitting. She raised98 her eyes and threw her
spectacles on top of her head, and looked curiously at them.

Whatever faint misgivings Si might have had vanished at the utter
peacefulness of the scene. It was so like the old home that he had left
that he could not imagine that war existed anywhere near. It seemed as
if the camp at Murfreesboro' and the bloody field of Stone River must be
a thousand miles away. The beds of roses and pinks which bordered the
walk were the same as decorated the front yard at home. There were the
same clumps of snowballs and lilacs at the corners of the house.

"Howdy, gentlemen?" said the woman, as they came up.

It seemed almost a wrong and insult to be carrying deadly arms in the
presence of such a woman, and Si and Shorty let their guns slip down, as
if they were rather ashamed of them.

"Good day, ma'am," said Shorty, taking off his hat politely and wiping
his face. "We're lookin' around to git some cornpone and buttermilk, and
didn't know but what you might let us have some. We're willin' to pay
for it."

"If you want suthin' to eat," said the woman promptly, "I kin gin it to
ye. I never turn no hungry man away from my door. Wait a minnit and I'll
bring ye some."

She disappeared inside the house, and Si remarked to Shorty:

"Your head's level this time, as it generally is. We'll git something
that's worth while comin' after."

The woman reappeared with a couple of good-size corn-dodgers in her
hand.99

"This appears to be all the bread that's left over from dinner," she
said. "And the meat's all gone. But the wenches 'll be through their
washin' purty soon, and then I'll have them cook ye some more, if ye'll
wait."

"Thankee, ma'am," said Shorty; "we can't wait. This'll be a plenty, if
we kin only git some buttermilk to go with it. We don't want no meat. We
git plenty o' that in camp."

"You can have all the buttermilk you want to drink," she answered, "if
you'll go down to the spring-house thar and git it. It's fresh, and
you'll find a gourd right beside o' the jar. I'd go with you, but it
allers gives me rheumatiz to go nigh the spring-house."

"Don't bother, ma'am, to go with us," said Shorty politely. "We are very
much obliged to you, indeed, and we kin make out by ourselves. How much
do we owe you?" And he pulled a greenback dollar from his pocket.

"Nothin', nothin' at all," said the woman hastily. "I don't sell
vittels. Never thought o' sich a thing. Ye're welcome to all ye kin eat
any time."

"Well, take the money, and let us ketch a couple of them chickens
there," said Shorty, laying down the bill on the banister rail.

After a little demur the woman finally agreed to this, and picked up the
money. The boys selected two fat chickens, ran them down, wrung their
necks, and, after repeating their thanks, took their bread and started
for the spring-house. They found it the coolest and most inviting place
in the world on a hot, tiresome day\x97just such a spot as Shorty had100
described. It was built of rough stones, and covered with a moss-grown
roof. A copious spring poured out a flood of clear, cool water, which
flowed over white pebbles and clean-looking sand until it formed a
cress-bordered rivulet just beyond the house. In the water sat crocks of
fresh milk, a large jar of buttermilk, and buckets of butter. The looks,
the cool, pure freshness of the place, were delightful101 contrasts from
the tiresome smells and appearances of the camp kitchens. The boys
reveled in the change. They forgot all about war's alarms, stood their
rifles up against the side of the spring-house, washed their dust-grimed
faces and hands in the pure water, dried them with their handkerchiefs,
and prepared to enjoy their meal. How good the buttermilk tasted along
with the cornpone. The fresh milk was also sampled, and some of the
butter spread upon their bread.

Si even went to the point of declaring that it was almost as good as the
things he used to eat at home, which was the highest praise he could
possibly give to any food. Si never found anywhere victuals or cooking
to equal that of his mother.

He was pointing out to Shorty, as they munched, the likenesses and
unlikenesses of this spring-house to that on the Wabash, when they were
startled by the stern command:

"Surrender, there, you infernal Yankees!"

Undesirable Acquaintances. 100

They looked up with startled eyes to stare into a dozen muskets leveled
straight at their heads from the willow thickets. Corn-dodgers and milk-
gourds dropped into the water as they impulsively jumped to their feet.

"If yo'uns move we'uns 'll blow the lights outen yo'uns," shouted the
leader of the rebels. "Hold up yer hands."

It was a moment of the most intense anguish that either of them had ever
known. Their thoughts were lightning-like in rapidity. The rebel muzzles
were not a rod away, their aim was true, and it102 would be madness to
risk their fire, for it meant certain death.

The slightest move toward resistance was suicide.

Si gave a deep groan, and up went his hands at the same moment with
Shorty's.

The rebels rushed out of the clump of willows behind which they had
crept up on the boys, and surrounded them. Two snatched up their guns,
and the others began pulling off their haversacks and other personal
property as their own shares of the booty. In the midst of this, Si
looked around, and saw the woman standing near calmly knitting.

"You ain't so afeared o' rheumatism all at once," he said bitterly.

"My rheumatiz has spells, young man, same ez other people's," she
answered, pulling one of the needles out, and counting the stitches with
it. "Sometimes it is better, and sometimes it is wuss. Jest now it is a
great deal better, thankee. I only wisht I could toll the whole Yankee
army to destruction ez easy ez you wuz. My, but ye walked right in, like
the fly to the spider. I never had nothin' do my rheumatiz so much
good."

And she cackled with delight. "When you git through," she continued,
addressing the leader of the rebels, "come up to the house, and I'll
have some dinner cooked for ye. I know ye're powerful tired an' hungry.
I s'pose nothin' need be cooked for them," and she pointed her knitting-
needle contemptuously at Si and Shorty. "Ole Satan will be purvidin' fur
them. I'll take these along to cook fur ye."103

She gathered up the dead chickens and stalked back to the house.

"Ef we're gwine t' shoot they'uns le's take they'uns over thar on the
knoll, whar they'uns won't spile nothin'," said one evil-looking man,
who had just ransacked Si's pockets and appropriated everything in them.
"Hit'd be too bad t' kill they'uns here right in sight o' the house."

"Le'me see them letters, Bushrod;" said the leader, snatching a package
of letters and Annabel's picture out of the other's hand. "Mebbe thar's
some news in them that the Captain'd like to have."

Si gnashed his teeth as he saw the cherished missives rudely torn open
and scanned, and especially when the ambrotype case was opened and
Annabel's features made the subject of coarse comment. The imminent
prospect of being murdered had a much lighter pang.

While the letters and ambrotype were being looked over the process of
robbery was going on. One had snatched Si's cap, another had pulled off
his blouse, and there was a struggle as to who should have possession of
his new Government shoes, which were regarded as a great prize. Si had
resisted this spoliation, but was caught from behind and held, despite
his kicks and struggles, while the shoes were pulled off. Shorty was
treated in the same way.

The Spoils of War 105

In a few minutes both, exhausted by their vigorous resistance, were
seated on the ground, with nothing left on them but their pantaloons,
while their captors were quarreling over the division of their personal
effects, and as to what disposition was to be made of them. In the
course of the discussion104 the boys learned that they had been captured
by a squad of young men from the immediate neighborhood, who had been
allowed to go home on furlough, had been gathered together when the
regiment appeared, and had been watching every movement from safe
coverts. They had seen Si and Shorty leave, and had carefully dogged
their steps until such moment as they could pounce on them.

"Smart as we thought we wuz," said Si bitterly, "we played right into
their hands. They tracked us down jest as if we'd bin a couple o'
rabbits, and ketched us jest when they wanted us."

He gave a groan which Shorty echoed.

Bushrod and two others were for killing the two boys then and there and
ending the matter.

"They orter be killed, Ike, right here," said Bushrod to the leader.
"They deserve it, and we'uns hain't got no time to fool. We'uns can't
take they'uns back with we'uns, ef we wanted to, and I for one don't
want to. I'd ez soon have a rattlesnake around me."

But Ike, the leader, was farther-seeing. He represented to the others
the vengeance the Yankees would take on the people of the neighborhood
if they murdered the soldiers.

This developed another party, who favored taking the prisoners to some
distance and killing them there, so as to avoid the contingency that Ike
had set forth. Then there were propositions to deliver them over to the
guerrilla leaders, to be disposed of as they pleased.

Finally, it occurred to Ike that they were talking entirely too freely
before the prisoners, unless they105 intended to kill them outright, for
they were giving information in regard to the position and operations of
rebel bands that might prove dangerous. He drew his squad off a little
distance to continue the discussion. At first they kept their eyes on
the prisoners and their guns ready to fire, but as they talked they lost
their watchful attitude in the eagerness of making their points.

Si looked at Shorty, and caught an answering gleam. Like a flash both
were on their feet and started on a mad rush for the fence. Bushrod
saw106 them start, and fired. His bullet cut off a lock of Si's auburn
hair. Others fired as fast as they could bring their guns up, and the
bullets sang viciously around, but none touched the fugitives. Their
bare feet were torn by the briars as they ran, but they thought not of
these. They plunged into the blackberry briars along the fence, climbed
it, and gained the road some distance ahead of their pursuers, who were
not impelled by the fear of immediate death to spur them on. Up the road
went Si and Shorty with all the speed that will-power could infuse into
their legs. Some of the rebels stopped to reload; the others ran after.
A score of noisy dogs suddenly waked up and joined in the pursuit. The
old white man mounted his horse and came galloping toward the house.

On the boys ran, gaining, if anything, upon the foremost of the rebels.
The dogs came nearer, but before they could do any harm the boys halted
for an instant and poured such a volley of stones into them that they
ran back lamed and yelping. The fleetest-footed of the rebels, who was
the sanguinary Bushrod, also came within a stone's throw, and received a
well-aimed bowlder from Si's muscular hand full in his face. This
cheered the boys so that they ran ahead with increased speed, and
finally gained the top of the hill from which they had first seen the
farmhouse.

They looked back and saw their enemies still after them. Ike had taken
the old man's horse and was coming on a gallop. They knew he had a
revolver, and shivered at the thought. But both stooped and selected the
best stones to throw, to attack him with107 as soon as he came within
range. They halted a minute to get their breath and nerve for the good
effort. Ike had reached a steep, difficult part of the road, where his
horse had to come down to a walk and pick his way.

An Uncomfortable Situation 107

"Now, Si," said Shorty, "throw for your life, if you never did before.
I'm goin' to git him. You take his horse's head. Aim for that white
blaze in his forehead."

Si concentrated his energy into one supreme effort.108

He could always beat the rest of the boys in throwing stones, and now
his practice was to save him. He flung the smooth, round pebble with
terrific force, and it went true to its mark. The horse reared with his
rider just at the instant that a bowlder from Shorty's hand landed on
Ike's breast. The rebel fell to the ground, and the boys ran on.

At the top of the next hill they saw the regiment marching leisurely
along at the foot of the hill. It was so unexpected a deliverance that
it startled them. It seemed so long since they had left the regiment
that it might have been clear back to Nashville. They yelled with all
their remaining strength, and tore down the hill. Co. Q saw them at
once, and at the command of the Captain came forward at the double-
quick. The rebels had in the meanwhile gained the top of the hill. A few
shots were fired at them as they turned from the chase.

The Colonel rode back and questioned the boys. Then he turned to the
Captain of Co. Q and said:

"Captain, take your company over to that house. If you find anything
that you think we need in camp, bring it back with you. Put these boys
in the ambulance."

The exhausted Si and Shorty were helped into the ambulance, the Surgeon
gave them a reviving drink of whisky and quinine, and as they stretched
themselves out on the cushioned seats Si remarked:

"Shorty, we ain't ez purty ez we used to be, but we know a durned sight
more."

"I doubt it," said Shorty surlily. "I think me and you'll be fools as
long as we live. We won't be fools the same way agin, you kin bet your
life, but we'll find some other way."



CHAPTER VIII. A PERIOD OF SELF-DISGUST SI AND SHORTY HAVE AN ATTACK OF
IT, FOLLOWED BY RECOVERY.

IT TOOK many days for the boys' lacerated feet to recover sufficiently
to permit their going about and returning to duty. They spent the period
of enforced idleness in chewing the cud of bitter reflection. The thorns
had cut far more painfully into their pride than into their feet. The
time was mostly passed in moody silence, very foreign to the customary
liveliness of the Hoosier's Rest. They only spoke to one another on the
most necessary subjects, and then briefly. In their sour shame at the
whole thing they even became wroth with each other. Shorty sneered at
the way Si cleaned up the house, and Si condemned Shorty's cooking.
Thenceforth Shorty slept on the floor, while Si occupied the bed, and
they cooked their meals separately. The newness of the clothes they drew
from the Quartermaster angered them, and they tried to make them look as
dirty and shabby as the old.

Once they were on the point of actually coming to blows.

Si had thoughtlessly flung some dishwater into the company street. It
was a misdemeanor that in ordinary times would have been impossible to
him. Now almost anything was.

Shorty instantly growled:110

"You slouch, you ought to go to the guard-house for that."

Si retorted hotly:

"Slouch yourself! Look where you throwed them coffee-grounds this
morning," and he pointed to the tell-tale evidence beside the house.

Shorty and si Are at Outs. 110

"Well, that ain't near so bad," said Shorty crustily. "That at least
intended to be tidy."

"Humph," said Si, with supreme disdainfulness. "It's the difference
betwixt sneakin' an' straightout. I throwed mine right out in the
street. You tried to hide yours, and made it all the nastier. But111
whatever you do's all right. Whatever I do's all wrong. You're a pill."

"Look here, Mister Klegg," said Shorty, stepping forward with doubled
fist, "I'll have you understand that I've took all the slack and
impudence from you that I'm a-goin' to."

"Shorty, if you double your fist up at me," roared the irate Si, "I'll
knock your head off in a holy minute."

The boys of Co. Q were thunderstruck. It seemed as if their world was
toppling when two such partners should disagree. They gathered around in
voiceless sorrow and wonderment and watched, developments.

Shorty seemed in the act of springing forward, when the sharp roll of
the drum at Headquarters beating the "assembly" arrested all attention.
Everyone looked eagerly toward the Colonel's tent, and saw him come out
buckling on his sword, while his Orderly sped away for his horse.
Apparently, all the officers had been in consultation with him, for they
were hurrying away to their several companies.

"Fall in, Co. Q," shouted the Orderly-Sergeant. "Fall in promptly."

Everybody made a rush for his gun and equipments.

"Hurry up. Orderly," said Capt. McGillicuddy, coming up with his sword
and belt in hand. "Let the boys take what rations they can lay their
hands on, but not stop to cook any. We've got to go on the jump."

All was rush and hurry. Si and Shorty bolted for their house, forgetful
of their mangled feet. Si112 got in first, took his gun and cartridge-
box down, and buckled on his belt. He looked around for his rations
while Shorty was putting on his things. His bread and meat and Shorty's
were separate, and there was no trouble about them. But the coffee and
sugar had not been divided, and were in common receptacles. He opened
the coffee-can and looked in. There did not seem to be more than one
ration there. He hesitated a brief instant what to do. It would serve
Shorty just right to take all the coffee. He liked his coffee even
better than Shorty did, and was very strenuous about having it. If he
did not take it Shorty might think that he was either anxious to make up
or afraid, and he wanted to demonstrate that he was neither. Then there
was a twinge that it would be mean to take the coffee, and leave his
partner, senseless and provoking as he seemed, without any. He set the
can down, and, turning as if to look for something to empty it in,
pretended to hear something outside the house to make him forget it, and
hurried out.

Presently Shorty came out, and ostentatiously fell into line at a
distance from Si. It was the first time they had not stood shoulder to
shoulder.

The Orderly-Sergeant looked down the line, and called out:

"Here, Corp'l Klegg, you're not fit to go. Neither are you, Shorty. Step
out, both of you."

"Yes, I'm all right," said Shorty. "Feet's got well. I kin outwalk a Wea
Injun."

"Must've bin using some Lightning Elixir Liniment," said the Orderly-
Sergeant incredulously.. "I saw you both limping around like string-
halted113 horses not 15 minutes ago. Step out, I tell you."

"Captain, le' me go along," pleaded Si. "You never knowed me to fall
out, did you?"

"Captain, I never felt activer in my life," asserted Shorty; "and you
know I always kept up. I never played sore-foot any day."

"I don't believe either of you're fit to go," said Capt. McGillicuddy,
"but I won't deny you. You may start, anyway. By the time we get to the
pickets you can fall out if you find you can't keep up."

"The rebel calvary's jumped a herd of beef cattle out at pasture, run
off the guard, and are trying to get away with them," the Orderly-
Sergeant hurriedly explained as he lined up Co. Q. "We're to make a
short cut across the country and try to cut them off. Sir, the company's
formed."

"Attention, Co. Q!" shouted Capt. McGillicuddy. "Right face!\x97Forward,
file left!\x97March!"

The company went off at a terrific pace to get its place with the
regiment, which had already started without it.

Though every step was a pang. Si and Shorty kept up unflinchingly. Each
was anxious to outdo the other, and to bear off bravery before the
company. The Captain and Orderly-Sergeant took an occasional look at
them until they passed the picket-line, when other more pressing matters
engaged the officers' attention.

The stampeded guards, mounted on mules or condemned horses, or running
on foot, came tearing back, each with a prodigious tale of the numbers
and ferocity of the rebels.114

The regiment was pushed forward with all the speed there was in it,
going down-hill and over the level stretch at a double-quick. Si felt
his feet bleeding, and it seemed at times that he could not go another
step, but then he would look back down the line and catch a glimpse of
Shorty keeping abreast of his set of fours, and he would spur himself to
renewed effort. Shorty would long to throw himself in a fence-corner and
rest for a week, until, as they went over some rise, he would catch
sight of Si's sandy hair, well in the lead, when he would drink in fresh
determination to keep up, if he died in the attempt.

Presently they arrived at the top of the hill from which they could see
the rebel cavalry rounding up and driving off the cattle, while a
portion of the enemy's horsemen were engaged in a fight with a small
squad of infantry ensconced behind a high rail fence.

Si and Shorty absolutely forgot their lameness as Co. Q separated from
the column and rushed to the assistance of the squad, while the rest of
the regiment turned off to the right to cut off the herd. But they were
lame all the same, and tripped and fell over a low fence which the rest
of the company easily leaped. They gathered themselves up, sat on the
ground for an instant, and glared at one another.

"Blamed old tangle-foot," said Shorty derisively.

"You've got hoofs like a foundered hoss," retorted Si.

After this interchange of compliments they staggered painfully to their
feet and picked up their115 guns, which were thrown some distance from
their hands as they fell.

By this time Co. Q was a quarter of a mile away, and already beginning
to fire on the rebels, who showed signs of relinquishing the attack.

"Gol darn the luck!" said Si with Wabash emphasis, beginning to limp
forward.

"Wish the whole outfit was a mile deep in burnin' brimstone," wrathfully
observed Shorty.

A couple of lucky shots had emptied two of the rebel saddles. The
frightened horses turned away from the fighting line, and galloped down
the road to the right of the boys. The leading one suddenly halted in a
fence-corner about 30 yards away from Si, threw up his head and began
surveying the scene, as if undecided what to do next. The other, seeing
his mate stop, began circling around.

Hope leaped up in Si's breast. He began creeping toward the first horse,
under the covert of the sumach. Shorty saw his design and the advantage
it would give Si, and, standing still, began swearing worse than ever.

Si crept up as cautiously as he had used to in the old days when he was
rabbit-hunting. The horse thrust his head over the fence, and began
nibbling at a clump of tall rye growing there. Si thrust his hand out
and caught his bridle. The horse made one frightened plunge, but the
hand on his bridle held with the grip of iron, and he settled down to
mute obedience.

Si set his gun down in the fence-corner and climbed into the saddle.

Shorty made the Spring air yellow with profanity116 until he saw Si ride
away from his gun toward the other horse. When the latter saw his mate,
with a rider, coming toward him he gave a whinney and dashed forward. In
an instant Si had hold of his bridle and was turning back. His face was
bright with triumph. Shorty stopped in the middle of a soul-curdling
oath and yelled delightedly:

"Bully for old Wabash! You're my pardner after all Si."

He hastened forward to the fence, grabbed up Si's gun and handed it to
him and then climbed into the other saddle.

The rebels were now falling back rapidly before Co. Q's fire. A small
part detached itself and started down a side road.

Si and Shorty gave a yell, and galloped toward them, in full sight of
Co. Q. who raised a cheer. The rebels spurred their horses, but Si and
Shorty gained on them.

"Come on. Shorty." Si yelled. "I don't believe they've got a shot left.
They hain't fired once since they started."

He was right. Their cartridge-boxes had been emptied.

At the bottom of the hill a creek crossing the road made a deep, wide
quagmire. The rebels were in too much hurry to pick out whatever road
there might have been through it. Their leaders plunged in, their horses
sank nearly to the knees, and the whole party bunched up.

"Surrender, you rebel galoots." yelled Si reining up at a little
distance, and bringing his gun to bear.117

"Surrender, you off-scourings of secession," added Shorty.

Si and Shorty As Mounted Infantry 117

The rebels looked back, held up their hands, and said imploringly:

"Don't shoot, Mister. We'uns give up. We'uns air taylored."

"Come back up here, one by one," commanded Si,118 "and go to our rear.
Hold on to your guns. Don't throw 'em away. We ain't afraid of 'em."

One by one the rebels extricated their horses from the mire with more or
less difficulty and filed back. Si kept his gun on those in the
quagmire, while Shorty attended to the others as they came back. Co. Q
was coming to his assistance as fast as the boys could march.

What was the delight of the boys to recognize in their captives the
squad which had captured them. The sanguinary Bushrod was the first to
come back, and Si had to restrain a violent impulse to knock him off his
horse with his gun-barrel. But he decided to settle with him when
through with the present business.

By the time the rebels were all up, Co. Q had arrived on the scene. As
the prisoners were being disarmed and put under guard, Si called out to
Capt. McGillicuddy:

"Captain, one o' these men is my partickler meat. I want to 'tend to
him."

"All right. Corporal," responded the Captain, "attend to him, but don't
be too rough on him. Remember that he is an unarmed prisoner."

Si and Shorty got down off their horses, and approached Bushrod, who
turned white as death, trembled violently, and began to beg.

"Gentlemen, don't kill me," he whined. "I'm a poor man, an' have a
fambly to support. I didn't mean nothin' by what I said. I sw'ar't' Lord
A'mighty I didn't."

"Jest wanted to hear yourself talk\x97jest practicin' your voice," said
Shorty sarcastically, as he took the119 man by the shoulder and pulled
him off into the bush by the roadside. "Jest wanted to skeer us, and see
how fast we could run. Pleasant little pastime, eh?" "And them things
you said about a young lady up in Injianny," said Si, clutching him by
the throat.

Bushrod Prays for his Life 119

"I want to wring your neck jest like a chicken's. What'd you do with her
picture and letters?"

Si thrust his hand unceremoniously into Bushrod's pocket and found the
ambrotype of Annabel. A brief glance showed him that it was all right,
and he gave a sigh of satisfaction, which showed some amelioration of
temper toward the captive.120

"What'd you do with them letters?" Si demanded fiercely.

"Ike has 'em," said Bushrod.

"You've got my shoes on, you brindle whelp," said Shorty, giving him a
cuff in bitter remembrance of his own smarting feet.

"If we're goin' to shoot him, let's do it right off," said Si, looking
at the cap on his gun. "The company's gittin' ready to start back."

"All right," said Shorty, with cheerful alacrity. "Johnny, your ticket
for a brimstone supper's made out. How'd you rather be shot\x97standin' or
kneelin'?"

"O, gentlemen, don't kill be. Ye hadn't orter. Why do ye pick me out to
kill? I wuzzent no wuss'n the others. I wuzzent rayly half ez bad. I
didn't rayly mean t' harm ye. I only talked. I had t' talk that-a-way,
for I alluz was a Union man, and had t' make a show for the others. I
don't want t' be shot at all."

"You ain't answerin' my question," said Shorty coolly and inexorably. "I
asked you how you preferred to be shot. These other things you mention
hain't nothin' to do with my question."

He leveled his gun at the unhappy man and took a deliberate sight.

"O, for the Lord A'mighty's sake, don't shoot me down like a dog,"
screamed Bushrod. "Le'me have a chance to pray, an' make my peace with
my Maker."

"All right," conceded Shorty, "go and kneel down there by that
cottonwood, and do the fastest prayin* you ever did in all your born
days, for you have need of it. We'll shoot when I count three. You'd121
better make a clean breast of all your sins and transgressions before
you go. You'll git a cooler place in the camp down below."

Unseen, the rest of Co. Q were peeping through the bushes and enjoying
the scene.

Bushrod knelt down with his face toward the Cottonwood, and began an
agonized prayer, mingled with confessions of crimes and malefactions,
some flagrant, some which brought a grin of amusement to the faces of
Co. Q.

"One!" called out Shorty in stentorian tones.

"O, for the love o' God, Mister, don't shoot me," yelled Bushrod,
whirling around, with uplifted arms. "I'm too wicked to die, an' I've
got a fambly dependin' on me."

"Turn around there, and finish your prayin'," sternly commanded Shorty,
with his and Si's faces down to the stocks of their muskets, in the act
of taking deliberate aim.

Bushrod flopped around, threw increased vehemence into his prayer, and
resumed his recital of his misdeeds.

"Two!" counted Shorty.

Again Bushrod whirled around with uplifted hands and begged for mercy.

"Nary mercy," said Shorty. "You wouldn't give it to us, and you hain't
given it to many others, according to your own account. Your light's
flickerin', and we'll blow it out at the next count. Turn around,
there."

Bushrod made the woods ring this time with his fervent, tearful appeals
to the Throne of Grace. He was so wrought up by his impending death that
he122 did not hear Co. Q quietly move away, at a sign from the Captain,
with Si and Shorty mounting their horses and riding off noiselessly over
the sod.

For long minutes Bushrod continued his impassioned appeals at the top of
his voice, expecting every instant to have the Yankee bullets crash
through his brain. At length he had to stop from lack of breath.
Everything was very quiet\x97deathly so, it seemed to him. He stole a
furtive glance around. No Yankees could be seen out of the tail of his
eye on either side. Then he looked squarely around. None was visible
anywhere. He jumped up, began cursing savagely, ran into the road, and
started for home. He had gone but a few steps when he came squarely in
front of the musket of the Orderly-Sergeant of Co. Q, who had placed
himself in concealment to see the end of the play and bring him along.

"Halt, there," commanded the Orderly-Sergeant; "face the other way and
trot. We must catch up with the company."

Si and Shorty felt that they had redeemed themselves, and returned to
camp in such good humor with each other, and everybody else, that they
forgot that their feet were almost as bad as ever.

They went into the house and began cooking their supper together again.
Shorty picked up the coffeecan and said:

"Si Klegg, you're a gentleman all through, if you was born on the
Wabash. A genuine gentleman is knowed by his never bein' no hog under no
circumstances. I watched you when you looked into this coffee-can, and
mad as I was at you, I said you was a thorobred when you left it all to
me."

123



CHAPTER IX. SHORTY GETS A LETTER BECOMES ENTANGLED IN A HIGHLY IMPORTANT
CORRESPONDENCE.

A LIGHT spring wagon, inscribed "United States Sanitary Commission,"
drove through the camp of the 200th Ind., under the charge of a
dignified man with a clerical cast of countenance, who walked alongside,
looking at the soldiers and into the tents, and stopping from time to
time to hand a can of condensed milk to this one, a jar of jam to
another, and bunches of tracts to whomsoever would take them.

Shorty was sitting in front of the house bathing his aching feet. The
man stopped before him, and looked compassionately at his swollen
pedals.

"Your feet are in a very bad way, my man," he said sadly.

"Yes, durn 'em," said Shorty impatiently. "I don't seem to git 'em well
nohow. Must've got 'em pizened when I was runnin' through the briars."

"Probably some ivy or poison-oak, or nightshade among the briars.
Poison-oak is very bad, and nightshade is deadly. I knew a man once that
had to have his hand amputated on account of getting poisoned by
something that scratched him\x97nightshade, ivy, or poison-oak. I'm afraid
your feet are beginning to mortify."

"Well, you are a Job's comforter," thought Shorty.124

"You'd be nice to send for when a man's sick. You'd scare him to death,
even if there was no danger o' his dyin'."

"My friend," said the man, turning to his wagon, "I've here a nice pair
of home-made socks, which I will give you, and which will come in nicely
if you save your legs. If you don't, give them to some needy man. Here
are also some valuable tracts, full of religious consolation and advice,
which it will do your soul good to peruse and study."

Shorty took the gift thankfully, and turned over the tracts with
curiosity.

"On the Sin of Idolatry," he read the title of the first.

"Now, why'd he give that? What graven image have I bin worshipin'? What
gods of wood and stone have I bin bowin' down before in my blindness?
There've bin times when I thought a good deal more of a Commissary tent
then I did of a church, but I got cured of that as soon as I got a
square meal. I don't see where I have bin guilty of idolatry.

"On the Folly of Self-Pride," he read from the next one. "Humph, there
may be something in that that I oughter read. I am very liable to git
stuck on myself, and think how purty I am, and how graceful, and how
sweetly I talk, and what fine cloze I wear. Especially the cloze. I'll
put that tract in my pocket an' read it after awhile."

"On the Evils of Gluttony," he next read. "Well, that's a timely tract,
for a fact. I'm in the habit o' goin' around stuffin' myself, as this
says, with delicate viands, and drinkin' fine wines\x97'makin' my belly a
god.' The man what wrote this must've bin125 intimately acquainted with
the sumptuous meals which Uncle Sam sets before his nephews. He must've
knowed all about the delicate, apetizin' flavor of a slab o' fat pork
four inches thick, taken off the side of the hog that's uppermost when
he's laying on his back. And how I gormandize on hardtack baked in the
first place for the Revolutioners, and kept over ever since. That feller
knows jest what he's writin' about. I'd like to exchange photographs
with him."

"Thou Shalt Not Swear." Shorty read a few words, got red in the face,
whistled softly, crumpled the tract up, and threw it away.

"On the Sin of Dancing," Shorty yelled with laughter. "Me dance with
these hoofs! And he thinks likely mortification'll set in, and I'll lose
'em altogether. Well, he oughter be harnessed up with Thompson's colt.
Which'd come out ahead in the race for the fool medal? But these seem to
be nice socks. Fine yarn, well-knit, and by stretching a little I think
I kin get 'em on. I declare, they're beauties. I'll jest make Si sick
with envy when I show 'em to him. I do believe they lay over anything
his mother ever sent him. Hello, what's this?"

He extracted from one of them a note in a small, white envelope, on one
end of which was a blue Zouave, with red face, hands, cap and gaiters,
brandishing a red sword in defense of a Star Spangled Banner which he
held in his left hand.

"Must belong to the Army o' the Potomac," mused Shorty, studying the
picture. "They wear all sorts o' outlandish uniforms there. That red-
headed woodpecker'd be shot before he'd git a mile o' the rebels out
here. All that hollyhock business'd jest be meat126 for their
sharpshooters. And what's he doin' with that 'ere sword? I wouldn't give
that Springfield rifle o' mine for all the swords that were ever
hammered out. When I reach for a feller 600 or even 800 yards away I kin
fetch him every time. He's my meat unless he jumps behind a tree. But as
for swords, I never could see no sense in 'em except for officers to put
on lugs with. I wouldn't pack one a mile for a wagonload of 'em."

He looked at the address on the envelope. Straight lines had been
scratched across with a pin. On these was written, in a cramped, mincing
hand:

"To the brave soljer who Gits these Socks."

"Humph," mused Shorty, "that's probably for me. I've got the socks, and
I'm a soldier. As to whether I'm brave or not's a matter of opinion.
Sometimes I think I am; agin, when there's a dozen rebel guns pinted at
my head, not 10 feet away, I think I'm not. But we'll play that I'm
brave enough to have this intended for me, and I'll open it."

On the sheet of paper inside was another valorous red-and-blue Zouave
defending the flag with drawn sword. On it was written:

"Bad Ax, Wisconsin,

"Janooary the 14th, 1863.

"Braiv Soljer: I doant know who you air, or whair you may bee; I only
know that you air serving your country, and that is enuf to entitle to
the gratitude and afl'ection of every man and woman who has the breath
of patriotism in their bodies.

"I am anxious to do something all the time, very little though it may
be, to help in some way the men127 who air fiting the awful battles for
me, and for every man and woman in the country.

"I send these socks now as my latest contribution. They aint much, but
I've put my best work on them, and I hoap they will be useful and
comfortable to some good, braiv man.

"How good you may be I doant know, but you air sertingly a much better
man than you would be if you was not fiting for the Union. I hoap you
air a regler, consistent Christian. Ide prefer you to be a Methodist
Episcopal, but any church is much better than none.

"He be glad to heer that you have received these things all rite.

"Sincerely your friend and well-wisher,

"Jerusha Ellen Briggs."

Although Shorty was little inclined to any form of reading, and disliked
handwriting about as much as he did work on the fortifications, he read
the letter over several times, until he had every word in it and every
feature of the labored, cramped penmanship thoroughly imprinted on his
mind. Then he held it off at arm's length for some time, and studied it
with growing admiration. It seemed to him the most wonderful epistle
that ever emanated from any human hand. A faint scent of roses came from
it to help the fascination.

"I'll jest bet my head agin a big red apple," he soliloquized, "the
woman that writ that's the purtiest girl in the State o' Wisconsin. I'll
bet there's nothin' in Injianny to hold a candle to her, purty as Si
thinks his Annabel is. And smart\x97my! Jest look at that letter. That
tells it. Every word spelled correckly,128 and the grammar away up in G.
Annabel's a mighty nice girl, and purty, too, but I've noticed she makes
mistakes in spelling, and her grammar's the Wabash kind\x97home-made."

He drew down his eyebrows, pursed his lips, and assumed a severely
critical look for a reperusal of the letter and judgment upon it
according to the highest literary standards.

"No, sir," he said, with an air of satisfaction, "not a blamed mistake
in it, from beginnin' to end. Every word spelled jest right, the grammar
straight as the Ten Commandments, every t crossed and i dotted accordin'
to regulashuns and the Constitushun of the United States. She must be a
school-teacher, and yit a school-teacher couldn't knit sich socks as
them. She's a lady, every inch of her. Religious, too. Belongs to the
Methodist Church. Si's father's a Baptist, and so's my folks, but I
always did think a heap o' the Methodists. I think they have a little
nicer girls than the Baptists. I think I'd like to marry a Methodist
wife."

Then he blushed vividly, all to himself, to think how fast his thoughts
had traveled. He returned to the letter, to cover his confusion.

"Bad Ax, Wis. What a queer name for a place. Never heard of it before.
Wonder where in time it is? I'd like awfully to know. There's the 1st
and 21st Wis. in Rousseau's Division, and the 10th Wis. Battery in
Palmer's Division. I might go over there and ask some o' them. Mebbe
some of 'em are right from there. I'll bet it's a mighty nice place."

He turned to the signature with increased interest.

"Jerusha Ellen Briggs. Why, the name itself is129 reg'lar poetry.
Jerusha is awful purty. Your Mollies and Sallies and Emmies can't hold a
candle to it. And Annabel\x97pshaw! Ellen\x97why that's my mother's name.
Briggs? I knowed some Briggses once away-up, awfully nice people. Seems
to me they wuz Presbyterians, though, and I always thought that
Presbyterians wuz stuck-up, but they wuzzent stuck-up a mite. I wonder
if Miss Jerusha Ellen Briggs\x97she must be a Miss\x97haint some beau? But she
can't have. If he wuzzent in the army she wouldn't have him; and if he
was in the army she'd be sending the socks to him, instead of to whom it
may concern."

This brilliant bit of logic disposed of a sudden fear which had been
clutching at his heart. It tickled him so much that he jumped up,
slapped his breast, and grinned delightedly and triumphantly at the
whole landscape.

"What's pleasin' you so mightily. Shorty?" asked Si, who had just come
up. "Got a new system for beatin' chuck-a-luck, or bin promoted?"

"No, nothin'! Nothin's happened," said Shorty curtly, as he hastily
shoved the letter into his blouse pocket. "Will you watch them beans
bilin' while I go down to the spring and git some water?"

He picked up the camp-kettle and started. He wanted to be utterly alone,
even from Si, with his new-born thought. He did not go directly to the
spring, but took another way to a clump of pawpaw bushes, which would
hide him from the observation of everyone. There he sat down, pulled out
the letter again, and read it over carefully, word by word.

"Wants me to write whether I got the socks," he130 mused. "You jest bet
I will. I've a great mind to ask for a furlough to go up to Wisconsin,
and find out Bad Ax. I wonder how fur it is. I'll go over to the
Suiter's and git some paper and envelopes, and write to her this very
afternoon."

He carried his camp-kettle back to the house, set it down, and making
some excuse, set off for the Sutler's shop.

"Le'me see your best paper and envelopes," he said to the pirate who had
license to fleece the volunteers.

"Awfully common trash," said Shorty, looking over the assortment
disdainfully, for he wanted something superlatively fine for his letter.
"Why don't you git something fit for a gentleman to write to a lady on?
Something with gold edges on the paper and envelopes, and perfumed? I
never write to a lady except on gilt-edged paper, smellin' o' bergamot,
and musk, and citronella, and them things. I don't think it's good
taste."

"Well, think what you please," said the Sutler. "That's all the kind I
have, and that's all the kind you'll git. Take it or leave it."

Shorty finally selected a quire of heavy letter paper and a bunch of
envelopes, both emblazoned with patriotic and warlike designs in
brilliant red and blue.

"Better take enough," he said to himself. "I've been handlin' a pick and
shovel and gun so much that I'm afeared my hand isn't as light as it
used to be, and I'll have to spile several sheets before I git it just
right."

On his way back he decided to go by the camp of131 one of the Wisconsin
regiments and learn what he could of Bad Ax and its people.

"Is there a town in your State called Bad Ax?" he asked of the first man
he met with "Wis." on his cap.

"Cert'," was the answer. "And another one called Milwaukee, one called
Madison, and another called Green Bay. Are you studying primary
geography, or just getting up a postoffice directory?"

"Don't be funny, Skeezics," said Shorty severely. "Know anything about
it? Mighty nice place, ain't it?"

"Know anything about it? I should say so. My folks live in Bad Ax
County. It's the toughest, ornerist little hole in the State. Run by
lead-miners. More whisky-shanties than dwellings. It's tough, I tell
you."

"I believe you're an infernal liar," said Shorty, turning away in wrath.

Not being fit for duty, he could devote all his time to the composition
of the letter. He was so wrought up over it that he could not eat much
dinner, which alarmed Si.

"What's the matter with your appetite. Shorty?" he asked. "Haint bin
eatin' nothin' that disagreed with you, have you?

"Naw," answered Shorty impatiently; "nothin' wuss'n army rations. They
always disagree with me when I'm layin' around doin' nothin'. Why, in
the name of goodness, don't the army move? I've got sick o' the sight o'
every cedar and rocky knob in Middle Tennessee. We ought to go down and
take a look at things around Tullahoma, where Mr. Bragg132 is."

It was Si's turn to clean up after dinner, and, making an excuse of
going over into another camp to see a man who had arrived there, Shorty,
with his paper and envelopes concealed under his blouse, and Si's pen
and wooden ink-stand furtively conveyed to his pocket, picked up the
checkerboard when Si's back was turned, and made his way to the pawpaw
thicket, where he could be unseen and unmolested in the greatest
literary undertaking of his life.

He took a comfortable seat on a rock, spread the paper on the
checkerboard, and then began vigorously chewing the end of the penholder
to stimulate his thoughts.

It had been easy to form the determination to write; the desire to do so
was irresistible, but never before had he been confronted with a task
which seemed so overwhelming. Compared with it, struggling with a mule-
train all day through the mud and rain, working with pick and shovel on
the fortifications, charging an enemy's solid line-of-battle, appeared
light and easy performances. He would have gone at either, on the
instant, at the word of command, or without waiting for it, with entire
confidence in his ability to master the situation. But to write a half-
dozen lines to a strange girl, whom he had already enthroned as a lovely
divinity, had more terrors than all of Bragg's army could induce.

But when Shorty set that somewhat thick head of his upon the doing of a
thing, the thing was tolerably certain to be done in some shape or
another.

"I believe, if I knowed whore Bad Ax was, I'd git a furlough, and walk
clean there, rather than write a line," he said, as he wiped from his
brow the sweat133 forced out by the labor of his mind. "I always did
hate writin'. I'd rather maul rails out of a twisted elm log any day
than fill up a copy book. But it's got to be done, and the sooner I do
it the sooner the agony 'll be over. Here goes."

He began laboriously forming each letter with his lips, and still more
laboriously with his stiff fingers, adding one to another, until he had
traced out:

"Headquarters Co. Q, 200th Injianny Volunteer Infantry, Murfreesboro,
Aprile the 16th eighteen hundred & sixty three."

The sweat stood out in beads upon his forehead after this effort, but it
was as nothing compared to the strain of deciding how he should address
his correspondent. He wanted to use some term of fervent admiration, but
fear deterred him. He debated the question with himself until his head
fairly ached, when he settled upon the inoffensive phrase:

"Respected Lady."

The effort was so exhausting that he had to go down to the spring, take
a deep drink of cold water, and bathe his forehead. But his
determination was unabated, and before the sun went down he had produced
the following:

"i talk mi pen in hand 2 inform U that ive reseeved the SOX U so kindly
cent, & i thank U 1,000 times 4 them. They are boss sox & no mistake.
They are the bossest sox that ever wuz nit. The man is a lire who sez
they aint. He dassent tel Me so. U are a boss nitter. Even Misses
Clinkun can't hold a candle 2 U.

"The sox fit me 2 a t, but that is becaws they are nit so wel, &
stretch."134

"I wish I knowed some more real strong words to praise her knitting,"
said Shorty, reading over the laboriously-written lines. "But after I
have said they're boss what more is there to say? I spose I ought to say
something about her health next. That's polite." And he wrote:

"ime in fair helth, except my feet are" locoed, & i weigh 156 pounds, &
hope U are injoying the saim blessing."

"I expect I ought to praise her socks a little more," said he, and
wrote:

"The SOX are jest boss. They outrank anything in the Army of the
Cumberland."

After this effort he was compelled to take a long rest. Then he communed
with himself:

"When a man's writin' to a lady, and especially an educated lady, he
should always throw in a little poetry. It touches her."

There was another period of intense thought, and then he wrote:

"Dan Elliott is my name, & single is my station, Injianny is mi dwelling
place, & Christ is mi salvation."

"Now," he said triumphantly, "that's neat and effective. It tells her a
whole lot about me, and makes her think I know Shakspere by heart.
Wonder if I can't think o' some more? Hum\x97hum. Yes, here goes:

"The rose is red, the vilet's blue; ime 4 the Union, so are U."

Shorty was so tickled over this happy conceit that he fairly hugged
himself, and had to read it over135 several times to admire its beauty.
But it left him too exhausted for any further mental labor than to close
up with:

"No moar at present, from yours til death.

"Dan Elliott,

"Co. Q, 200th injianny Volunteer Infantry."

He folded up the missive, put it into an envelope, carefully directed to
Miss Jerusha Ellen Briggs, Bad Ax, Wis., and after depositing it in the
box at the Chaplain's tent, plodded homeward, feeling more tired than
after a day's digging on the fortifications. Yet his fatigue was
illuminated by the shimmering light of a fascinating hope.



CHAPTER X. TRADING WITH THE REBS THE BOYS HAVE SOME FRIENDLY COMMERCE
WITH THE REBEL PICKETS.

THE 200th Ind. Volunteer Infantry had been pushed out to watch the
crossings of Duck River and the movements of the rebels on the south
bank of that narrow stream. The rebels, who had fallen into the
incurable habit of objecting to everything that the "Yankees" did,
seemed to have especial and vindictive repugnance to being watched.

Probably no man, except he be an actor or a politician, likes to be
watched, but few ever showed themselves as spitefully resentful of
observation as the rebels.

Co. Q was advanced to picket the north bank of the river, but the moment
it reached the top of the hill overlooking the stream it had to deploy
as skirmishers, and Enfield bullets began to sing viciously about its
ears.

"Looks as if them fellers think we want to steal their old river and
send it North," said Shorty, as he reloaded his gun after firing at a
puff of smoke that had come out of the sumach bushes along the fence at
the foot of the hill. "They needn't be so grouchy. We don't want their
river\x97only to use it awhile. They kin have it back agin after we're
through with it."

"Blamed if that feller didn't make a good line137 shot," said Si,
glancing up just above his head to where a twig had been clipped off the
persimmon tree behind which he was standing. "He put up his sights a
little too fur, or he'd 'a' got me."

Si took careful aim at where he supposed the lurking marksman to be and
fired.

There was a waving of the tops of the bushes, as if the men concealed
there had rushed out.

"Guess we both landed mighty close," said Shorty triumphantly. "They
seem to have lost interest in this piece o' sidehill, anyway."

He and Si made a rush down the hill, and gained the covert of the fence
just in time to see the rails splintered by a bunch of shots striking
them.

"Lay down, Yanks!" called out Shorty cheerily, dropping into the weeds.
"Grab a root!"

To the right of them they could see the rest of Co. Q going through
similar performances.

Si and Shorty pushed the weeds aside, crawled cautiously to the fence,
and looked through. There was a road on the other side of the fence, and
beyond it a grove of large beech trees extending to the bank of the
river. Half concealed by the trunk of one of these stood a tall, rather
good-looking young man, with his gun raised and intently peering into
the bushes. He had seen the tops stir, and knew that his enemies had
gained their cover. He seemed expecting that they would climb the fence
and jump down into the road. At a little distance to his right could be
seen other men on the sharp lookout.

Shorty put his hand on Si to caution and repress138 him.

With his eyes fixed on the rebel, Shorty drew his gun toward him. The
hammer caught on a trailing vine, and, forgetting himself, he gave it an
impatient jerk. It went off, the bullet whistling past Shorty's head and
the powder burning his face.

The rebel instantly fired in return, and cut the leaves about four feet
above Shorty.

"Purty good shot that, Johnny," called out Shorty as he reloaded his
gun; "but too low. It went between my legs. You hain't no idee how tall
I am."

"If I couldn't shoot no better'n you kin on a sneak," answered the
rebel, his rammer ringing in his gun-barrel, "I wouldn't handle
firearms. Your bullet went a mile over my head. Must've bin shootin' at
an angel. But you Yanks can't shoot nary bit\x97you're too skeered."

"I made you hump out o' the bushes a few minutes ago," replied Shorty,
putting on a cap. "Who was skeered then? You struck for tall timber like
a cotton-tailed rabbit."

"I'll rabbit ye, ye nigger-lovin' whelp," shouted the rebel. "Take
that," and he fired as close as he could to the sound of Shorty's voice.

Shorty had tried to anticipate his motion and fired first, but the limbs
bothered his aim, and his bullet went a foot to the right of the rebel's
head. It was close enough, however, to make the rebel cover himself
carefully with the tree.

"That was a much better shot, Yank," he called out. "But ye orter do a
powerful sight better'n that on a sneak. Ye'd never kill no deer, nor
rebels nuthor, with that kind o' shootin'. You Yanks are139 great on the
sneak, but that's all the good it does, yet ye can't shoot fer a handful
o' huckleberries."

"Sneaks! Can't shoot!" roared Shorty. "I kin outshoot you or any other
man in Jeff Davis's kingdom. I dare you to come out from behind your
tree, and take a shot with me in the open, accordin' to Hardee's
tactics. Your gun's empty; so's mine. My chum here'll see fair play; and
you kin bring your chum with you. Come out, you skulkin' brindle pup,
and shoot man fashion, if you dare."140

"Ye can't dare me, ye nigger-stealin' blue-belly," shouted the rebel in
return, coming out from behind his tree. Shorty climbed over the fence
and stood at the edge of the road, with his gun at order arms. Si came
out on Shorty's left, and a rebel appeared to the right of the first.
For a minute all stood in expectancy. Then Shorty spoke:

"I want nuthin' but what's fair. Your gun's empty; so's mine. You
probably know Hardee's tactics as well as I do."

"I'm up in Hardee," said the rebel with a firm voice.

"Well, then," continued Shorty, "let my chum here call off the orders
for loadin' and firin', and we'll both go through 'em, and shoot at the
word."

"Go ahead\x97I'm agreed," said the rebel briefly.

Shorty nodded to Si.

"Carry arms," commanded Si.

Both brought their guns up to their right sides.

"Present arms."

Both courteously saluted.

"Load in nine times\x97Load," ordered Si.

Both guns came down at the same instant, each man grasped his muzzle
with his left hand, and reached for his cartridge-box, awaiting the next
order.

"Handle cartridges."

"Tear cartridges."

"Charge cartridges," repeated Si slowly and distinctly. The rebel's
second nodded approval of his knowledge of the drill, and sang out:

"Good soldiers, all of yo'uns."

"Draw rammer," continued Si,141

"Turn rammer."

"Ram cartridge."

Shorty punctiliously executed the three blows on the cartridge exacted
by the regulations, and paused a breath for the next word. The rebel had
sent his cartridge home with one strong thrust, but he saw his
opponent's act and waited.

"Return rammer," commanded Si. He was getting a little nervous, but
Shorty deliberately withdrew his rammer, turned it, placed one end in
the thimbles, deliberately covered the head with his little finger,
exactly as the tactics prescribed, and sent it home with a single
movement. The rebel had a little trouble in returning rammer, and Shorty
and Si waited.

"Cast about,"

"Prime!"

Both men capped at the same instant.

"Ready!"

Shorty cocked his piece and glanced at the rebel, whose gun was at his
side.

"Aim!"

Both guns came up like a flash.

The Duel. 139

Si's heart began thumping at a terrible rate. He was far more alarmed
about Shorty than he had ever been about himself. Up to this moment he
had hoped that Shorty's coolness and deliberation would "rattle" the
rebel and make him fire wildly. But the latter, as Si expressed it
afterward, "seemed to be made of mighty good stuff," and it looked as if
both would be shot down.

"Fire!" shouted Si, with a perceptible tremor in his voice.142

Both guns flashed at the same instant. Si saw Shorty's hat fly off, and
him stagger and fall, while the rebel dropped his gun, and clapped his
hand to his side. Si ran toward Shorty, who instantly sprang up again,
rubbing his head, from which came a faint trickle of blood.

"He aimed at my head, and jest scraped my scalp," he said. "Where'd I
hit him? I aimed at his heart, and had a good bead."

"You seem to have struck him in the side," answered Si, looking at the
rebel. "But not badly, for he's still standin' up. Mebbe you broke a rib
though."

"Couldn't, if he's still up. I must file my trigger Gun pulls too hard.
I had a dead aim on his heart, but I seem to've pulled too much to the
right."

"Say, I'll take a turn with you," said Si, picking up his gun and
motioning with his left hand at the other rebel.

"All right," answered the other promptly. "My gun ain't loaded, though."

"I'll wait for you," said Si, looking at the cap on his gun. A loud
cheer was heard from far to the right, and Co. Q was seen coming forward
on a rush, with the rebels in front running back to the river bank.
Several were seen to be overtaken and forced to surrender.

The two rebels in front of the boys gave a startled look at their
comrades, then at the boys, and turned to run. Si raised his gun to
order them to halt.

"No," said Shorty. "Let 'em go. It was a fair bargain, and I'll stick to
it. Skip out Johnnies, for every cent you're worth."143

The rebels did not wait for the conclusion of the sentence, but followed
their comrades with alacrity.

The boys ran forward through the woods to the edge of the bank, and saw
their opponents climbing up the opposite bank and getting behind the
sheltering trees. Si waited till his particular one got good shelter
behind a large sycamore, and then sent a bullet that cut closely above
his head.

This was the signal for a general and spiteful fusillade from both sides
of the river and all along the line. The rebels banged away as if in
red-hot wrath at being run across the stream, and Co. Q retorted with
such earnestness that another company was sent forward to its
assistance, but returned when the Irish Lieutenant, who had gone forward
to investigate, reported:

"Faith, its loike the divil shearing a hog\x97all cry and no wool at all."

So it was. Both sides found complete shelter behind the giant trunks of
the trees, and each fired at insignificant portions of the anatomy
allowed to momentarily protrude beyond the impenetrable boles.

After this had gone on for about half an hour those across the river
from Si and Shorty called out:

"Say, Yanks, ye can't shoot down a beech tree with a Springfield musket,
nohow ye kin do it. If we'uns hain't killin' more o' yo'uns than yo'uns
is a-killin' o' we'uns, we'uns air both wastin' a powerful lot o' powder
an' lead and good shootin'. What d' yo'uns say to King's excuse for
awhile?"

"We're agreed," said Si promptly, stepping from144 behind the tree, and
leaving his gun standing against it.

"Hit's a go," responded the rebels, coming out disarmed. "We'uns won't
shoot no more till ordered, an' then'll give yo'uns warnin' fust."

The Overture for Trade. 144

"All right; we'll give you warning before we shoot," coincided Si.

"Say, have yo'uns got any Yankee coffee that145 you'll trade for a good
plug o' terbacker?" inquired the man whom Si had regarded as his
particular antagonist.

"Yes," answered Si. "We've got a little. We'll give you a cupful for a
long plug with none cut off."

"What kind of a cupful?" asked the bartering "Johnny."

"A big, honest cupful. One o' this kind," said Si, showing his.

"All right. Hit's to be strike measure," said the rebel. "Here's the
plug," and he held up a long plug of "natural leaf."

"O. K.," responded Si. "Meet me half way."

The truce had quickly extended, and the firing suspended all along the
line of Co. Q. The men came out from behind their trees, and sat down on
the banks in open view of one another.

Si filled his cup "heaping-full" with coffee, climbed down the bank and
waded out into the middle of the water. The rebel met him there, while
his companion and Shorty stood on the banks above and watched the trade.

"Y're givin' me honest measure, Yank," said the rebel, looking at the
cup. "Now, if ye hain't filled the bottom o' yer cup with coffee that's
bin biled before, I'll say y're all right. Some o' yo'uns air so dod-
gasted smart that y' poke off on we'uns coffee that's bin already biled,
and swindle we'uns."

"Turn it out and see," said Si.

The rebel emptied the cup into a little bag, carefully scrutinizing the
stream as it ran in. It was all fine, fragrant, roasted and ground
coffee.146

"Lord, thar's enough t' last me a month with keer," said the rebel,
gazing unctuously at the rich brown grains. "I won't use more'n a
spoonful a day, an' bile hit over twice. Yank, here's yer terbacker.
I've made a good trade. Here's a Chatanooga paper I'll throw in to boot.
Got a Northern paper about ye anywhar?"

Si produced a somewhat frayed Cincinnati Gazette.

"I can't read myself," said the rebel, as he tucked the paper away.
"Never l'arned to. Pap wuz agin hit. Said hit made men lazy. He got
erlong without readin', and raised the biggest fambly on Possum Crick.
But thar's a feller in my mess kin read everything but the big words,
and I like t' git a paper for him to read to the rest o' we'uns."

"Was your pardner badly hurt by mine's shot?" asked Si.

"No. The bullet jest scraped the bone. He'll be likely to have a stitch
in his side for awhile, but he's a very peart man, and won't mind that.
I'm s'prised he didn't lay your pardner out. He's the best shot in our
company."

"Well, he was buckin' agin a mighty good shot, and I'm surprised your
pardner's alive. I wouldn't 've given three cents for him when Shorty
drawed down on him; but Shorty's bin off duty for awhile, and his gun's
not in the best order. Howsumever, I'm awful glad that it come out as it
did. His life's worth a dozen rebels."

"The blazes you say. I'd have you know, Yank, that one Confederit is
wuth a whole rijimint o' Lincoln hirelings. I'll\x97"147

"O, come off\x97come off\x97that's more o' your old five-to-one gas," said Si
irritatingly. "I thought we'd walloped that dumbed nonsense out o' your
heads long ago. We've showed right along that, man for man, we're a
sight better'n you. We've always licked you when we've had anything like
a fair show. At Stone River you had easy two men to our one, and yit we
got away with you."

"'Tain't so. It's a lie. If hit wuzzent for the148 Dutch and Irish you
hire, you couldn't fight we'uns at all."

"Look here, reb," said Si, getting hot around the ears, "I'm neither a
Dutchman nor an Irishman; we hain't a half dozen in our company. I'm a
better man than you've got in your regiment. Either me or Shorty kin
lick any man you put up; Co. Q kin lick your company single-handed and
easy; the 200th Injianny kin lick any regiment in the rebel army. To
prove it, I kin lick you right here."

Si Wants a Fight 147

Si thrust the plug of tobacco into his blouse pocket and began rolling
up his sleeves.

The rebel did not seem at all averse to the trial and squared off at
him. Then Shorty saw the belligerent attitude and yelled:

"Come, Si. Don't fight there. That's no place. If you're goin' to fight,
come up on level ground, where it kin be fair and square. Come up here,
or we'll go over there."

"O, come off," shouted the rebel on the other side. "Don't be a fool,
Bill. Fist-foutin' don't settle nothin'. Come back here and git your gun
if ye want to fout. But don't le's fout no more to-day. Thar's plenty of
it for ter-morrer. Le's keep quiet and peaceful now. I want powerfully
to take a swim. Air you fellers agreed?"

"Yes; yes," shouted Shorty. "You fellers keep to your side o' the river,
and we will to ours."

The agreement was carried into instantaneous effect, and soon both sides
of the stream were filled with laughing, romping, splashing men.

There was something very exhilarating in the cool, clear, mountain water
of the stream. The boys149 got to wrestling, and Si came off victorious
in two or three bouts with his comrades.

"Cock-a-doodle-doo," he shouted, imitating the crow of a rooster. "I kin
duck any man in the 200th Injianny."

The challenge reached the ears of the rebel with whom Si had traded. He
was not satisfied with the result of his conference.

"You kin crow over your fellers, Yank," he shouted; "but you dassent
come to the middle an' try me two falls outen three."

Si immediately made toward him. They surveyed each other warily for a
minute to get the advantages of the first clinch, when a yell came from
the rebel side:

"Scatter, Confeds! Hunt yer holes, Yanks! The Cunnel's a-comin'."

Both sides ran up their respective banks, snatched up their guns, took
their places behind their trees, and opened a noisy but harmless fire.

150



CHAPTER XI. SHORTY'S CORRESPONDENT GETS A LETTER FROM BAD AX, WIS., AND
IS ALMOST OVERCOME WITH JOY.

SHORTY had always been conspicuously lacking in the general interest
which his comrades had shown in the mails. Probably at some time in his
life he had had a home like the rest of them, but for some reason home
now played no part in his thoughts. The enlistment and muster-rolls
stated that he was born in Indiana, but he was a stranger in the
neighborhood when he enrolled himself in Co. Q.

His revelations as to his past were confined to memories of things which
happened "when I was cuttin' wood down the Mississippi," or "when I was
runnin' on an Ohio sternwheel."

He wrote no letters and received none. And when the joyful cry, "Mail's
come," would send everybody else in the regiment on a run to the
Chaplain's tent, in eager anticipation, to jostle one another in
impatience, until the contents of the mailpouch were distributed, Shorty
would remain indifferent in his tent, without an instant's interruption
in his gun cleaning, mending, or whatever task he might have in hand.

A change came over him after he sent his letter to Bad Ax, Wis. The cry,
"Mail's come," would make151 him start, in spite of himself, and before
he could think to maintain his old indifference. He was ashamed, lest he
betray his heart's most secret thoughts.

The matter of the secure transmission of the mails between camp and home
began to receive his earnest attention. He feared that the authorities
were not taking sufficient precautions. The report that John Morgan's
guerrillas had captured a train between Louisville and Nashville, rifled
the mail car, and carried off the letters, filled him with burning
indignation, both against Morgan and his band and the Generals who had
not long ago exterminated that pestiferous crowd.

He had some severe strictures on the slovenly way in which the mail was
distributed from the Division and Brigade Headquarters to the regiments.
It was a matter, he said, which could not be done too carefully. It was
a great deal more important than the distribution of rations. A man
would much rather lose several days' rations than a letter from home. He
could manage in some way to get enough to live on, but nothing would
replace a lost letter.

Then, he would have fits of silent musing, sometimes when alone,
sometimes when with Si in the company, over the personality of the fair
stocking-knitter of Wisconsin and the letter he had sent her. He would
try to recall the exact wording of each sentence he had laboriously
penned, and wonder how it impressed her, think how it might have been
improved, and blame himself for not having been more outspoken in his
desire to hear from her again. He would steal off into the brush, pull
out the socks152 and letter, which he kept carefully wrapped up in a
sheet of the heavy letter paper, and read over the letter carefully
again, although he knew every word of it by heart. These fits alarmed
Si.

"I'm af eared," he confided to some cronies, "that rebel bullet hurt
Shorty more'n he'll let on. He's not actin' like hisself at times. That
bullet scraped so near his thinkery that it may have addled it. It was
an awful close shave."

"Better talk to the Surgeon," said they. "Glancing bullets sometimes
hurt worse'n they seem to."

"No, the bullet didn't hurt Shorty, any more than make a scratch," said
the Surgeon cheerfully when Si laid the case before him. "I examined him
carefully. That fellow's head is so hard that no mere scraping is going
to affect it. You'd have to bore straight through it, and I'd want at
least a six-pounder to do it with if I was going to undertake the job.
An Indiana head may not be particularly fine, but it is sure to be
awfully solid and tough. No; his system's likely to be out of order. You
rapscallions will take no care of yourselves, in spite of all that I can
say, but will eat and drink as if you were ostriches. He's probably a
little off his feed, and a good dose of bluemass followed up with
quinine will bring him around all right. Here, take these, and give them
to him."

The Surgeon was famous for prescribing bluemass and quinine for every
ailment presented to him, from sore feet to "shell fever." Si received
the medicines with a proper show of thankfulness, saluted, and left. As
he passed through the clump if bushes he was tempted to add them to
the153 collection of little white papers which marked the trail from the
Surgeon's tent, but solicitude for his comrade restrained him. The
Surgeon was probably right, and it was Si's duty to do all that he could
to bring Shorty around again to his normal condition. But how in the
world was he going to get his partner to take the medicine? Shorty had
the resolute antipathy to drugs common to all healthy men.

It was so grave a problem that Si sat down on a log to think about it.
As was Si's way, the more he thought about it, the more determined he
became to do it, and when Si Klegg determined to do a thing, that thing
was pretty nearly as good as done.

"I kin git him to take the quinine easy enough," he mused. "All I've got
to do is to put it in a bottle o' whisky, and he'd drink it if there wuz
40 'doses o' quinine in it. But the bluemass's a very different thing.
He's got to swaller it in a lump, and what in the world kin I put it in
that he'll swaller whole?"

Si wandered over to the Sutler's in hopes of seeing something there that
would help him. He was about despairing when he noticed a boy open a can
of large, yellow peaches.

"The very thing," said Si, slapping his thigh. "Say, young man, gi' me a
can o' peaches jest like them."

Si took his can and carefully approached his tent, that he might decide
upon his plan before Shorty could see him and his load. He discovered
that Shorty was sitting at a little distance, with his back to him,
cleaning his gun, which he had taken apart.

"Bully," thought Si. "Just the thing. His hands154 are dirty and greasy,
and he won't want to tech anything to eat."

He slipped into the tent, cut open the can, took out a large peach with
a spoon, laid the pellet of bluemass in it, laid another slice of peach
upon it, and then came around in front of Shorty, holding out the spoon.

"Open your mouth and shut your eyes, Shorty," he said. "I saw some o'
the nicest canned peaches down at the Sutler's, and I suddenly got
hungry for some. I bought a can and brung 'em up to the tent. Jest try
'em."

He stuck the spoon out towards Shorty's mouth. The latter, with his
gunlock in one hand and a greasy rag in the other, looked at the
tempting morsel, opened his mouth, and the deed was done.

"Must've left a stone in that peach," he said, as he gulped it down.

"Mebbe so," said Si, with a guilty flush, and pretending to examine the
others. "But I don't find none in the rest Have another?"

Shorty swallowed two or three spoonfuls more, and then gasped:

"They're awful nice, Si, but I've got enough. Keep the rest for
yourself."

Si went back to the tent and finished the can with mingled emotions of
triumph at having succeeded, and of contrition at playing a trick on his
partner. He decided to make amends for the latter by giving Shorty an
unusually large quantity of whisky to take with his quinine.

Si was generally very rigid in his temperance ideas, He strongly
disapproved of Shorty's155 drinking, and always interposed all the
obstacles he could in the way of it. But this was an extraordinary
case\x97it would be "using liquor for a medicinal purpose"\x97and his
conscience was quieted.

Co. Q had one of those men\x97to be found in every company\x97who can get
whisky under apparently any and all circumstances. In every company
there is always one man who seemingly can find something to get drunk on
in the midst of the Desert of Sahara. To Co. Q's representative of this
class Si went, and was piloted to where, after solemn assurances against
"giving away," he procured a halfpint of fairly-good applejack, into
which he put his doses of quinine.

In the middle of the night Shorty woke up with a yell.

"Great Cesar's ghost!" he howled, "what's the matter with me? I'm
sicker'n a dog. Must've bin them dodgasted peaches. Si, don't you feel
nothin'?"

"No," said Si sheepishly; "I'm all right. Didn't you eat nothin' else
but them?"

"Naw," said Shorty disgustedly. "Nothin' but my usual load o' hardtack
and pork. Yes, I chawed a piece o' sassafras root that one of the boys
dug up."

"Must've bin the sassafras root," said Si. He hated to lie, and made a
resolution that he would make a clean breast to Shorty\x97at some more
convenient time. It was not opportune now. "That must've bin a
sockdologer of a dose the Surgeon gave me," he muttered to himself.

Shorty continued to writhe and howl, and Si made156 a hypocritical offer
of going for the Surgeon, but Shorty vetoed that emphatically.

"No; blast old Sawbones," he said. "He won't do nothin' but give me
bluemass, and quinine, and I never could nor would take bluemass. It's
only fit for horses and hogs."

Toward morning Shorty grew quite weak, and correspondingly depressed.

"Si," said he, "I may not git over this. This may be the breakin' out o'
the cholera that the folks around here say comes every seven years and
kills off the strangers. Si, I'll tell you a secret. A letter may come
for me. If I don't git over this, and the letter comes, I want you to
burn it up without reading it, and write a letter to Miss Jerusha Ellen
Briggs, Bad Ax, Wis., tellin' her that I died like a man and soldier,
and with her socks on, defendin' his country."

Si whistled softly to himself. "I'll do it. Shorty," he said, and
repeated the address to make sure.

The crisis soon passed, however, and the morning found Shorty bright and
cheerful, though weak.

Si was puzzled how to get the whisky to Shorty. It would never do to let
him know that he had gotten it especially for him. That would have been
so contrary to Si's past as to arouse suspicion. He finally decided to
lay it where it would seem that someone passing had dropped it, and
Shorty could not help finding it. The plan worked all right. Shorty
picked it up in a few minutes after Si had deposited it, and made quite
an ado over his treasure trove.

"Splendid applejack," he said, tasting it; "little bitter, but that
probably comes from their using157 dogwood in the fires when they're
'stilhn'. They know that dogwood'll make the liquor bitter, but they're
too all-fired lazy to go after any other kind o' wood." He drank, and as
he drank his spirits rose. After the first dram he thought he would
clean around the tent, and make their grounds look neater than anybody
else's. After the second he turned his attention to his arms and
accouterments. After the third he felt like going out on a scout and
finding some rebels to vary the monotony of the camp-life. After the
fourth, "Groundhog," unluckily for himself, came along, and Shorty
remembered that he had long owed the teamster a licking, and he felt
that the debt should not be allowed to run any longer. He ordered
Groundhog to halt and receive his dues. The teamster demurred, but
Shorty was obdurate, and began preparations to put his intention into
operation, when the Orderly-Sergeant came down through the company
street distributing mail.

Shorty Wants to Fight Groundhog 157

"Shorty," he said, entirely ignoring the bellicosity of the scene,
"here's a letter for you."

Shorty's first thought was to look at the postmark. Sure enough, it was
Bad Ax, Wis. Instantly his whole demeanor changed. Here was something a
hundred times more important than licking any teamster that ever lived.

"Git out, you scab," he said contemptuously. "I haint no time to fool
with you now. You'll keep. This won't."

Groundhog mistook the cause of his escape. "O, you're powerful anxious
to fight, ain't you, till you find I'm ready for you, and then you quiet
down. I'll let you know, sir, that you mustn't give me no more o' your
sass. I won't stand it from you. You jest keep your mouth shet after
this, if you know when you're well off."

The temptation would have been irresistible to Shorty at any other time,
but now he must go off somewhere where he could be alone with his
letter, and to the amazement of all the spectators he made no reply to
the teamster's gibes, but holding the159 precious envelope firmly in his
hand, strode off to the seclusion of a neighboring laurel thicket.

His first thought, as he sat down and looked the envelope over again,
was shame that it had come to him when he was under the influence of
drink. He remembered the writer's fervent Christianity, and it seemed to
him that it would be a gross breach of faith for him to open and read
the letter while the fumes of whisky were on his breath. He had a
struggle with his burning desire to see the inside of the envelope, but
he conquered, and put the letter back in his pocket until he was
thoroughly sober.

But he knew not what to do to fill up the time till he could
conscientiously open the letter. He thought of going back and fulfilling
his long-delayed purpose of thrashing Groundhog, but on reflection this
scarcely commended itself as a fitting prelude.

He heard voices approaching\x97one sympathetic and encouraging, the other
weak, pain-breathing, almost despairing. He looked out and saw the
Chaplain helping back to the hospital a sick man who had over-estimated
his strength and tried to reach his company. The man sat down on a rock,
in utter exhaustion.

Shorty thrust the letter back into his blousepocket, sprang forward,
picked the man up in his strong arms, and carried him bodily to the
hospital. It taxed his strength to the utmost, but it sobered him and
cleared his brain.

He returned to his covert, took out his letter, and again scanned its
exterior carefully. He actually feared to open it, but at last drew his
knife and carefully slit one side. He unfolded the inclosure as160
carefully as if it had been a rare flower, and with palpitating heart
slowly spelled out the words, one after another:

Shorty Reading the Letter 160

"Bad Ax, Wisconsin,

"April the Twenty-First, 1863.

"Mister Daniel Elliott, Company Q, 200th Indiana Volunteer Infantry.

"Respected Sir: I taik my pen in hand toe inform you that I am wel, and
hoap that you aire in joying161 the saim blessing. For this, God be
prazed and magnified forever."

"Goodness, how religious she is," said he, stopping to ruminate. "How
much nicer it makes a woman to be pious. It don't hurt a man much to be
a cuss\x97at least while he's young\x97but I want a woman to be awfully
religious. It sets her off more'n anything else."

He continued his spelling exercise:

"I am verry glad that my sox reached you all rite, that they fell into
the hands of a braiv, pious Union soldier, and he found them nice."

"Brave, pious Union soldier," he repeated to himself, with a whistle.
"Jewhilikins, I'm glad Bad Ax, Wis., is so fur away that she never heard
me makin' remarks when a mule-team's stalled. But I must git a brace on
myself, and clean up my langwidge for inspection-day."

He resumed the spelling:

"I done the best I could on them, and moren that no one can do. Wimmen
cant fite in this cruel war, but they ought all to do what they can. I
only wish I could do more. But the wimmen must stay at home and watch
and wait, while the men go to the front."

"That's all right. Miss Jerusha Ellen Briggs," said he, with more
satisfaction. "You jest stay at home and watch and wait, and I'll try to
do fightin' enough for both of us. I'll put in some extra licks in
future on your account, and they won't miss you from the front."

The next paragraph read:

"I should like to hear more of you and your162 regiment. The only time I
ever beared of the 200th Indiana regiment was in a letter writ home by
one of our Wisconsin boys and published in the Bad Ax Grindstone, in
which he said they wuz brigaded with the 200th Indiana, a good fighting
regiment, but which would stele even the shoes off the brigade mules if
they wuzzent watched, and sumtimes when they wuz. Ime sorry to hear that
any Union soldier is a thief. I know that our boys from Wisconsin would
rather die than stele."

"Steal! The 200th Injianny steal!" Shorty flamed out in a rage. "Them
flabbergasted, knock-kneed, wall-eyed Wisconsin whelps writin' home that
the Injiannians are thieves! The idee o' them longhaired, splay-footed
lumbermen, them chuckleheaded, wap-sided, white-pine butchers talking
about anybody else's honesty. Why, they wuz born stealin'. They never
knowed anything else. They'd steal the salt out o' your hardtack. They'd
steal the lids off the Bible. They talk about the 200th Injiannny! I'd
like to find the liar that writ that letter. I'd literally pound the
head offen him."

It was some time before he could calm himself down sufficiently to
continue his literary exercise. Then he made out:

"Spring's lait here, but things is looking very well. Wheat wintered
good, and a big crop is expected. We had a fine singing-school during
the Winter, but the protracted meeting drawed off a good many. We doant
complain, however, for the revival brought a great many into the fold.
No moar at present, but belave me

"Sincerly Your Friend,

"Jerusha Ellen Briggs."163

Shorty's heart almost choked him when he finished. It was the first time
in his hfe that he had received a letter from any woman. It was the
first time since his mother's days that any woman had shown the
slightest interest in his personality. And, true man like, his impulses
were to exalt this particular woman into something above the mere
mortal.

Then came a hot flush of indignation that the Wisconsin men should
malign his regiment, which, of course, included him, to the mind of such
a being. He burned to go over and thrash the first Wisconsin man he
should meet.

"Call us thieves; say we'll steal," he muttered, as he walked toward the
Wisconsin camp. "I'll learn 'em different."

He did not see anybody in the camp that he could properly administer
this needed lesson to. All the vigorous, able-bodied members seemed to
be out on drill or some other duty, leaving only a few sick moping
around the tents.

Shorty's attention was called to a spade lying temptingly behind one of
the tents. He and Si had badly wanted a spade for several days. Here was
an opportunity to acquire one. Shorty sauntered carelessly around to the
rear of the tent, looked about to see that no one was observing, picked
up the implement and walked off with it with that easy, innocent air
that no one could assume with more success than he when on a predatory
expedition.



CHAPTER XII. THE BAN ON WET GOODS SI HAS A HARD TIME TRYING TO KEEP
WHISKY OUT OF CAMP.

"DETAIL for guard to-morrow," sang out the Orderly-Sergeant, after he
had finished the evening roll-call: "Bailey, Belcher, Doolittle,
Elliott, Fracker, Gleason, Hendricks, Hummerson. Long, Mansur, Nolan,
Thompson."

"Corp'l Klegg, you will act as Sergeant of the Guard.

"Dan Elliott will act as Corporal of the Guard." It is one of the
peculiarities of men that the less they have to do the less they want to
do. The boys of Co. Q were no different from the rest. When they were in
active service a more lively, energetic crowd could not be found in the
army. They would march from daybreak till midnight, and build roads, dig
ditches, and chop trees on the way. They were ready and willing for any
service, and none were louder than they in their condemnation when they
thought that the officers did not order done what should be. But when
lying around camp, with absolutely nothing to do but ordinary routine,
they developed into the laziest mortals that breathed. To do a turn of
guard duty was a heart-breaking affliction, and the Orderly-Sergeant's
announcement of those who were detailed for the morrow brought forth a
yell of protest from every man whose name was called.165

"I only come off guard day before yesterday," shouted Bailey.

"I'm sick, and can't walk a step," complained Belcher, who had walked 15
miles the day before, hunting "pies-an'-milk."

"That blamed Orderly's got a spite at me; he'd keep me on guard every
day in the week," grumbled Doolittle.

"I was on fatigue dooty only yesterday," protested Fracker, who had to
help carry the company rations from the Commissary's tent.

"I'm goin' to the Surgeon an' git an excuse," said Gleason, who had
sprained his wrist a trifle in turning a handspring.

So it went through the whole list.

"I want to see every gun spick-and-span, every blouse brushed and
buttoned, and every shoe neatly blacked, when I march you up to the
Adjutant," said the Orderly, entirely oblivious to the howls. "If any of
you don't, he'll have a spell of digging up roots on the parade. I won't
have such a gang of scarecrows as I have had to march out the last few
days. You fellows make a note of that, and govern yourselves
accordingly."

"Right face\x97Break ranks\x97March!"

"Corp'l Klegg," said the Officer of the Day the next morning, as Si was
preparing to relieve the old guard, "the Colonel is very much worked up
over the amount of whisky that finds its way into camp. Now that we are
out here by ourselves we certainly ought to be able to control this. Yet
there was a disgusting number of drunken men in camp yesterday, and a
lot of trouble that should not be. The Colonel has166 talked very
strongly on this subject, and he expects us to-day to put a stop to
this. I want you to make an extra effort to keep whisky out. I think you
can do it if you try real hard."

"I'll do my best, sir," said Si, saluting.

"Shorty," Si communed with his next in rank before they started on their
rounds with the first relief, "we must see that there's no whisky brung
into camp this day."

"You jest bet your sweet life there won't be, either," returned Shorty.
He felt not a little elated over his brevet rank and the
responsibilities of his position as Corporal of the Guard. "This here
camp'll be as dry as the State o' Maine to-day."

It was a hot, dull day, with little to occupy the time of those off
guard. As usual, Satan was finding "some mischief for idle hands to do."

After he put on the first relief, Si went back to the guard tent and
busied himself awhile over the details of work to be found there. There
were men under sentence of hard labor that he had to find employment
for, digging roots, cleaning up the camp, chopping wood and making
trenches. He got the usual chin-music from those whom he set to enforced
toil, about the injustice of their sentences and "the airs that some
folks put on when they wear a couple of stripes," but he took this
composedly, and after awhile went the rounds to look over his guard-
line, taking Shorty with him.

Everything seemed straight and soldierly, and they sat down by a cool
spring in a little shady hollow.

"Did you ever notice, Shorty," said Si, speculatively, as he looked over
the tin cup of cool water he167 was sipping, "how long and straight and
string-like the cat-brier grows down here in this country? You see 25 or
30 feet of it at times no thicker'n wooltwine. Now, there's a piece
layin' right over there, on t'other side o' the branch, more'n a rod
long, and no thicker'n a rye straw."

"I see it, an' I never saw a piece o' cat-brier move endwise before,"
said Shorty, fixing his eyes on the string-like green.

"As sure's you're alive, it is movin'," said Si, starting to rise.

"Set still, keep quiet an' watch," admonished Shorty. "You'll find out
more."

Si sat still and looked. The direction the brier was moving was toward
the guard-line, some 100 feet away to the left. About the same distance
to the right was a thicket of alders, where Si thought he heard voices.
There were indications in the weeds that the cat-brier extended to
there.

The brier maintained its outward motion. Presently a clump of rags was
seen carried along by it.

"They're sending out their money for whisky," whispered Shorty. "Keep
quiet, and we'll confiscate the stuff when it comes in."

They saw the rag move straight toward the guardline, and pass under the
log on which the sentry walked when he paced his beat across the branch.
It finally disappeared in a bunch of willows.

Presently a bigger rag came out from the willows, in response to the
backward movement of the long cat-brier, and crawled slowly back under
the log and into camp. As it came opposite Si jumped out, put his foot
on the cat-brier and lifted up the rag. He168 found, as he had expected,
that it wrapped up a pint flask of whisky.

"O, come off, Si; come off, Shorty!" appealed some of Co. Q from the
alders. "Drop that. You ain't goin' to be mean, boy's. You don't need to
know nothin' about that, an' why go makin' yourselves fresh when there's
no necessity? We want that awful bad, and we've paid good money for it."

"No, sir," said Shorty sternly, as he twisted the bottle off, and
smashed it on the stones. "No whisky goes into this camp. I'm astonished
at you. Whisky's a cuss. It's the bane of the army. It's the worm that
never dies. Its feet lead down to hell. Who hath vain babblings? Who
hath redness of eyes? The feller that drinks likker, and especially
Tennessee rotgut."

"O, come off; stop that dinged preaching, Shorty," said one impatiently.
"There's nobody in this camp that likes whisky better'n you do; there's
nobody that'll go further to get it, an' there's nobody up to more
tricks to beat the guard."

"What I do as a private soldier, Mr. Blakesley," said Shorty with
dignity, "haint nothing to do with my conduct when I'm charged with
responsible dooty. It's my dooty to stop the awful practice o' likker-
drinkin' in this camp, an' I'm goin' to do it, no matter what the cost.
You jest shet up that clam-shell o' your'n an' stop interfering with
your officers."

Si and Shorty went outside the lines to the clump of willows, but they
were not quick enough to catch Groundhog, the teamster, and the civilian
whom our readers will remember as having his head shaved in the camp at
Murfreesboro some weeks before. They169 found, however, a jug of new and
particularly rasping apple-jack. There was just an instant of wavering
in Shorty's firmness when he uncorked the jug and smelled its contents.
He lifted it to his lips, to further confirm its character, and Si
trembled, for he saw the longing in his partner's eyes. The latter's
hand shook a little as the first few drops touched his tongue, but with
the look of a hero he turned and smashed the jug on a stone.

"You're solid. Shorty," said Si.

"Yes, but it was an awful wrench. Le's git away from the smell o' the
stuff," answered Shorty. "I'm afraid it'll be too much for me yit."

"Corporal of the Guard, Post No. 1."

"Sergeant of the Guard, Post No. 1," came down the line of sentries as
the two boys were sauntering back to camp.

"Somethin's happening over there at the gate," said Si, and they
quickened their steps in the direction of the main entrance to the camp.

They found there a lank, long-haired, ragged Tennesseean, with a
tattered hat of white wool on his head. His scanty whiskers were
weather-beaten, he had lost most of his front teeth, and as he talked he
spattered everything around with tobacco-juice. He rode on a blind, raw-
bone horse, which, with a dejected, broken-down mule, was attached by
ropes, fragments of straps, withes, and pawpaw bark to a shackly wagon.

In the latter were some strings of dried apples, a pile of crescents of
dried pumpkins, a sack of meal, a few hands of tobacco, and a jug of
buttermilk.

"I want t' go inter the camps an' sell a leetle jag170 o' truck," the
native explained, as he drenched the surrounding weeds with tobacco-
juice. "My ole woman's powerful sick an' ailin', an' I need some money
awfully t' git her some quinine. Yarbs don't seem t' do her no sort o'
good. She must have some Yankee quinine, and she's nigh dead fer some
Yankee coffee. This war's mouty hard on po' people. Hit's jest killin'
'em by inches, by takin' away their coffee an' quinine. I'm a Union man,
an' allers have bin."

"You haint got any whisky in that wagon, have you?" asked Si.

"O, Lord, no! nary mite. You don't think I'd try t' take whisky into
camp, do you? I'm not sich a bad man as that. Besides, whar'd I git
whisky? The war's broke up all the 'stilleries in the country. What the
Confedrits didn't burn yo'uns did. I've bin sufferin' for months fur a
dram o' whisky, an' as fur my ole woman, she's nearly died. That's the
reason the yarbs don't do her no good. She can't get no whisky to soak
'em in."

"He's entirely too talkative about the wickedness o' bringin' whisky
into camp," whispered Shorty. "He's bin there before. He's an old hand
at the business."

"Sure you've got no whisky?" said Si.

"Sartin, gentlemen; sarch my wagon, if you don't take my word. I only
wish I knowed whar thar wuz some whisky. I'd walk 20 miles in the rain
t' git one little flask fur my ole woman and myself. I tell you, thar
haint a drap t' be found in the hull Duck River Valley. 'Stilleries all
burnt, I tell you." And in the earnestness of his protestations he
sprayed his team,171 himself, and the neighboring weeds with liquid
tobacco.

Si stepped back and carefully searched the wagon, opening the meal sack,
uncorking the buttermilk jug, and turning over the dried apples,
pumpkins and tobacco. There certainly was no whisky there.

Shorty stood leaning on his musket and looking at the man. He was pretty
sure that the fellow had had previous experience in running whisky into
camp, and was up to the tricks of the trade. Instead of a saddle the man
had under him an old calico quilt, whose original gaudy colors were
sadly dimmed by the sun, rain, and dirt. Shorty stepped forward and
lifted one corner. His suspicions were right. It had an under pocket, in
which was a flat, half-pint flask with a cob stopper, and filled with
apple-jack so new that it was as colorless as water.

"I wuz jest bringin' that 'ere in fur you, Capting," said the
Tennesseean, with a profound wink and an unabashed countenance. "Stick
hit in your pocket, quick. None o' the rest 's seed you."

Shorty flung the bottle down and ordered the man off his horse. The
quilt was examined. It contained a half-dozen more flasks, each holding
a "half-pint of throat-scorch and at least two fights," as Shorty
expressed it. A clumsy leather contrivance lay on the hames of the mule.
Flasks were found underneath this, and the man himself was searched.
More flasks were pulled out from the tail pockets of his ragged coat;
from his breast; from the crown of his ragged hat.

"Well," said Shorty, as he got through, "you're a regler grogshop on
wheels. All you need is a lot172 o' loafers talkin' politics, a few
picturs o' racin' hosses and some customers buried in the village
graveyard to be a first-class bar-room. Turn around and git back to that
ole woman o' your'n, or we'll make you sicker'n she is."

Si and Shorty marched around with the second relief, and then sat down
to talk over the events of the morning.

"I guess we've purty well settled the whisky business for to-day, at
least," said Si. "The Colonel can't complain of us. I don't think we'll
have any more trouble. Seems to me that there can't be no more whisky in
this part o' Tennessee, from the quantity we've destroyed."

"Don't be too dinged sure o' that," said Shorty. "Whisky seems to brew
as naturally in this country as the rosin to run out o' the pine trees.
I never saw sich a country fur likker. They have more stills in
Tennessee than blacksmith shops, and they work stiddier."

Si looked down the road and saw returning a wagon which had been sent
out in the morning for forage. It was well loaded, and the guards who
were marching behind had a few chickens and other supplies that they had
gathered up.

"Boys seem to be purty fresh, after their tramp," said he, with the
first thought of a soldier looking at marching men. "They've all got
their guns at carry arms. I noticed that as they came over the hill."

"Yes," answered Shorty, after a glance, "and they're holdin' 'em up very
stiff an' straight. That gives mo an idee. Lo's go over there an' take a
look at 'em."173

Shorty had sniffed at a trick that he had more than once played in
getting the forbidden beverage past the lynx-eyed sentry.

"Don't you find it hard work to march at routstep with your guns at a
carry?" he said insinuatingly. "No need o' doin' that except on parade
or drill. Right-shoulder-shift or arms-at-will is the thing when you're
on the road."

"H-s-sh," said the leading file, with a profound wink and a sidelong
glance at Si. "Keep quiet, Shorty," he added in a stage whisper. "We'll
give you some. It's all right. We'll whack up fair."

"No, it ain't all right," said Shorty, with properly offended official
dignity. "Don't you dare offer to bribe me, Buck Harper, when I'm on
duty. Hand me that gun this minute."

Harper shamefacedly handed over the musket, still holding it carefully
upright. Shorty at once reversed it and a stream of whisky ran out upon
the thirsty soil.

Si grasped the situation, and disarmed the others with like result.

"I ought to put every one o' you in' the guardhouse for this. It's lucky
that the Officer of the Guard wasn't here. He'd have done it. There he
comes now. Skip out after the wagon, quick, before he gits on to you."

"What next?" sighed Si. "Is the whole world bent on bringin' whisky into
this camp? Haint they got none for the others?"

"Sergeant of the Guard, Post No. 1," rang out upon the hot air. Si
walked over again to the entrance, and saw seeking admission a tall,
bony174 woman, wearing a dirty and limp sunbonnet and smoking a corn-cob
pipe. She was mounted on a slab-sided horse, with ribs like a washboard,
and carried a basket on her arm covered with a coarse cloth none too
clean.

"Looks as if she'd bin picked before she was ripe and got awfully warped
in the dryin'. All the same she's loaded with whisky," commented Shorty
as the woman descended from her saddle and approached the sentry with an
air of resolute demand.

"You haint got no right to stop me, young feller," she said. "I come in
hyar every day an' bring pies. Your Jinerul said I could, an' he wanted
me to. His men want my pies, an' they do 'em good. Hit's homecookin',
an' takes the taste o' the nasty camp vittles out o' their mouths, an'
makes 'em healthy. You jest raise yer gun, an' let me go right in, or
I'll tell yer Jinerul, an' he'll make it warm fur yer. I've got a pass
from him."

"Let me see your pass," said Si, stepping forward. The woman unhooked
her linsey dress, fumbled around in the recesses, and finally produced a
soiled and crumpled paper, which, when straightened out, read:

"Mrs. Sarah Bolster has permission to pass in and out of the camp of the
200th Indiana Volunteer Infantry.

"By order of Col. Quackenbush.

"D. L. Blakemore, Lieut. & Adj't."

"What've you got in that basket?" asked Si, still hesitating.

"Pies," she answered confidently. "The best pies you ever seed. Some of
'em pumpkin; but the rest175 of 'em dried apple, with lots o' 'lasses in
fur sweetenin'. Your mother never baked better pies 'n 'em."

"To my mind," muttered Shorty, as he stepped forward to investigate the
basket, "she's the kind o' a woman I'd like to have bake pies for a gang
o' State's prison birds that I wanted to kill off without the trouble o'
hangin'. Say, ma'am, are your pies pegged or sewed? What'd you use for
shortenen'\x97injy rubber or Aunt Jemimy's plaster?" he continued as he
turned back the cloth and surveyed the well-known specimens of mountain
baking which were as harmful to Uncle Sam's boys as the bullets of their
enemies.

"Young feller, none o' yer sass," she said severely. "Them's better pies
than ye're used ter. Folks that's never had nothin' air allers the most
partickeler, an' turnin' up thar noses at rayly good things. Don't fool
with me no more, but let me go on inter camp, fur the soljers air
expectin' me."

"Sure you haint got no whisky down in the bottom o' that basket?" said
Si, pushing the pies about a little, to get a better look.

The indignation of the woman at this insinuation was stunning. She took
her pipe out of her mouth to better express her contempt for men who
would insult a Southern lady by such a hint\x97one, too, that had been of
so much benefit to the soldiers by toiling over the hot oven to prepare
for them food more acceptable than the coarse rations their stingy
Government furnished them. She had never been so insulted in her life,
and she would bring down on them dire punishment from the Colonel.

Several experiences with the tongue-lashings of176 Southern viragoes had
made Si and Shorty less impressed by them than they had been earlier in
their service. Still, they had the healthy young man's awe of anything
that wore skirts, and the tirade produced its effect, but not strong
enough to eradicate the belief that she was a whisky-bringer. While she
stormed Si kept his eyes fixed upon the scant linsey dress which draped
her tall form. Presently he said to Shorty:

"What do you think? Shall we let her go in?" Shorty whispered back with
great deliberation: "Si, what I know about the female form don't amount
to shucks. Least of all the Tennessee female form. But I've been lookin'
that 'ere woman over carefully while she's been jawin', an' while she's
naturally covered with knots and knobs in places where it seems to me
that women generally don't have 'em, I can't help believin' that she's
got some knots and knobs that naturally don't belong to her. In other
words, she's got a whole lot o' flasks of whisky under her skirts."

"Jest what I've been suspicionin'," said Si. "I've heard that that's the
way lots o' whisky is brung into camp. Shorty, as Corporal o' the Guard,
it's your duty to search her."

"What!" yelled Shorty, horror-struck at the immodest thought. "Si Klegg,
are you gone plum crazy?"

"Shorty," said Si firmly, "it's got to be done. She's got a pass, and
the right to go into camp. We're both o' the opinion that she's carryin'
in whisky. If she was a man there'd be no doubt that she'd have to be
searched. I don't understand that the law177 knows any difference in
persons. No matter what you may think about it, it is your duty, as
Corporal o' the Guard, to make the search."

"No, sir-ree," insisted Shorty. "You're Sergeant o' the Guard, and it's
your dooty to make all searches."

"Shorty," expostulated Si, "I'm much younger and modester'n you are, an'
haint seen nearly so much o' the world. You ought to do this. Besides,
you're under my orders, as Actin' Corporal. I order you to make the
search."

"Si Klegg," said Shorty firmly, "I'll see you and all the Corporals and
Sergeants betwixt here and Washington in the middle o' next week before
I'll do it. You may buck-and-gag me, and tie me up by the thumbs, and
then I won't. I resign my position as Corporal right here, and'll take
by gun and go on post."

"What in the world are we goin' to do?" said Si desperately. "If we let
her in, she'll fill the camp full o' whisky, and she'll have to go in,
unless we kin show some reason for keepin' her out. Hold on; I've got an
idee."

He went up to the woman and said:

"You say you want to go into camp to sell your pies?"

"Yes, sir, an' I want to go in right off\x97no more foolin' around," she
answered tartly.

"How many pies've you got?"

She went through a laborious counting, and finally announced: "Eight
altogether."

"How much are they worth?"

"Fifty cents apiece."178

"Very good," announced Si taking some money from his pocket. "That comes
to $4. I'll take the lot and treat the boys. Here's your money. Now
you've got no more business in camp, jest turn around and mosey for
home. You've made a good day's business, and ought to be satisfied."

The woman scowled with disappointment. But she wisely concluded that she
h'd better be content with the compromise, remounted her horse and
disappeared down the road.

"That was a sneak out of a difficulty," Si confessed to Shorty; "but you
were as big a coward as I was."

"No, I wasn't," insisted Shorty, still watchful. "You'd no right to
order me do something that you was afraid to do yourself. That's no kind
o' officering."

179



CHAPTER XIII. THE JEW SPY WRITES SHORTY HAS AN ADVENTURE WITH A LONE,
LORN WIDDER LADY."

"I WONDER what has become of our Jew spy, Shorty?" said Si, as he and
Shorty sat on the bank of Duck River and watched the rebel pickets
lounging under the beeches on the other side. "We hain't heard nothin'
of him for more'n a month now."

"He's probably hung," answered Shorty. "He was entirely too smart to
live long. A man can't go on always pokin' his finger into a
rattlesnake's jaw without gittin' it nipped sooner or later."

"I'm looking fur a man called Si Klegg," they heard behind them. Looking
around they saw the tall, gaunt woman whom they had turned back from
entering the camp a few days before, under the belief that she was
trying to smuggle in whisky.

"What in the world can she want o' me?" thought Si; but he answered:

"That's my name. What'll you have?"

A flash of recognition filled at once her faded blue eyes. Without
taking her pipe from between her yellow, snaggly teeth she delivered a
volley of tobacco-juice at an unoffending morning-glory, and snapped
out:

"O, y'r him, air ye? Y'r the dratted measly180 sapsucker that bounced me
'bout takin' likker inter camp. What bizniss wuz hit o' your'n whether I
tuk likker in or not? Jest wanted t' be smart, didn't ye? Jest wanted t'
interfere with a lone, lorn widder lady makin' a honest livin' for
herself and 10 children. My ole man ketched the black ager layin' out in
the brush to dodge the conscripters. It went plumb to his heart an'
killed him. He wa'n't no great loss, nohow, fur he'd eat more in a week
than he'd kill, ketch, or raise in a year. When his light went out I'd
only one less mouth to feed, and got rid o' his jawin' an' cussin' all
the time. But that hain't nothin' t' do with you. You 's jest puttin' on
a lettle authority kase ye could. But all men air alike that-a-way.
Elect a man Constable, an' he wants t' put on more airs than the Guv-
nor; marry him, an' he makes ye his slave."

"I should think it'd be a bold man that'd try to make you his slave.
Madam," Si ventured.

"Y' she'd think," she retorted, with her arms akimbo. "Who axed y' t'
think, young feller? What d' y' do hit with. Why d' y' strain y'rself
doin' somethin' y' ain't used t'?"

It did Shorty so much good to see Si squelched, that he chuckled aloud
and called out:

"Give it to him, old Snuff-Dipper. He's from the Wabash, an' hain't no
friends. He's bin itchin' a long time for jest such a skinnin' as you're
givin' him."

"Who air y' callin' Snuff-Dipper?" she retorted, turning angrily on
Shorty. "What've ye got t' say agin snuff-dippin', anyway, y' terbacker-
chawin', likker-guzzlin', wall-oyed, splay-footed, knock-kneed181 oaf?
What air y' greasy hirelings a-comin' down heah fo', t' sass and slander
Southern ladies, who air yo' superiors?"

"Give it to him, old Corncob Pipe," yelled Si "He needs lambastin'
worse'n any man in the regiment. But what did you want to see me for?"

"I wanted to see yo' bekase I got a letter to yo' from a friend o' mine,
who said yo' wuz gentlemen, an' rayly not Yankees at all. He said that
yo' wuz forced into the army agin yo' will."

"Gracious, what a liar that man must be," murmured Shorty to himself.

"An' yo' rayly had no heart to fight for the nigger, an' that yo'd treat
me like a sister."

"A sister," Shorty exploded internally. "Think of a feller's havin' a
sister like that. Why, I wouldn't throw her in a soap-grease barrel."

"Who was this friend. Madam?" said Si, "and where is his letter?"

"I don't know whether to give it to yo' or not," said she. "Y're not the
men at all that he ascribed to me. He said yo' wuz very good-lookin',
perlite gentlemen, who couldn't do too much for a lady."

"Sorry we're not as handsome as you expected," said Si; "but mebbe
that's because we're in fatigue uniforms. You ought to see my partner
there when he's fixed up for parade. He's purtier'n a red wagon then.
Let me see the letter. I can tell then whether we're the men or not."

"Kin yo' read?" she asked suspiciously.

"O, yes," answered Si laughingly at the thought almost universal in the
South that reading and writing were\x97like the Gift of Tongues\x97a
special182 dispensation to a few favored individuals only. "I can read
and do lots o' things that common people can't. I'm seventh son of a
seventh son, born with a caul on my head at the time o' the full moon.
Let me see the letter."

She was not more than half convinced, but unhooked her dress and took a
note from her bosom, which she stuck out toward Si, holding tightly on
to one end in the meanwhile. Si read, in Levi Rosenbaum's flourishing,
ornate handwriting:

"Corporal Josiah Klegg, Co. Q, 200th Indiana Volunteers, in Camp on Duck
River."

"That means me," said Si, taking hold of the end of the envelope. "There
ain't but one 200th Injianny Volunteers; there's no other Co. Q, and I'm
the only Josiah Klegg."

The woman still held on to the other end of the letter.

"It comes," continued Si, "from a man a little under medium size, with
black hair and eyes, dresses well, talks fast, and speaks a Dutch
brogue."

"That's him," said the woman, relinquishing the letter, and taking a
seat under the shade of a young cucumber tree, where she proceeded to
fill her pipe, while awaiting the reading of the missive.

Si stepped off a little ways, and Shorty looked over his shoulder as he
opened the letter and read:

"Dear Boys: This will be handed you, if it reaches you at all, by Mrs.
Bolster, who has more about her than you think."183

"I don't know about that," muttered Shorty; "the last time I had the
pleasure o' meetin' the lady she had 'steen dozen bottles o' head-bust
about her."

"She's a Confederate, as far as she goes."

Si continued reading,

"which is not very far. She don't go but a little ways. A jay-bird that
did not have any more brains would not build much of a nest. But she is
very useful to me, and I want you to get in with her. As soon as you
read this I want Si to give her that pair of horn combs I gave him. Do
it at once. Sincerely your friend,

"Levi Rosenbaum."

Si knit his brows in perplexity and wonderment over this strange
message. He looked at Shorty, but Shorty's face was as blank of
explanation as his own. He fumbled around in his blouse pocket, drew
forth the combs, and handed them to the woman. Her dull face lighted up
visibly. She examined the combs carefully, as if fitting them to a
description, and, reaching in her bosom, pulled out another letter and
handed it to Si.

When this was opened Si read:

"Dear Boys: Now you will understand the comb business. I wanted to make
sure that my letter reached the right men, and the combs were the only
things I could think of at the moment. Mrs. B. will prize them, though
she will never think of using them, either on herself or one of her
shock-headed brats. I want you to play it on her as far as your
consciences will allow. Pretend that you are awful sick of this
Abolition war, and tired fighting for the nigger, and all that stuff.
Make her the happiest184 woman in Tennessee by giving her all the coffee
you can spare. That will fetch her quicker and surer than anything else.
Like most Southern women, she is a coffee-drinker first and a rebel
afterward, and if some preacher would tell her that heaven is a place
where she will get all the Yankee coffee she can drink, she would go to
church regularly for the rest of her life. Tell her a lot of news\x97as
much of it true as you can and think best; as much of it otherwise as
you can invent. Follow her cautiously when she leaves camp. Don't let
her see you do so. You will find that she will lead you to a nest of
spies, and the place where all the whisky is furnished to sell in camp.
I write you thus freely because I am certain that this will get in your
hands. I know that your regiment is out here, because I have been
watching it for a week, with reference to its being attacked. It won't
be for at least awhile, for there's another hen on. But make up to the
old lady as much as your consciences and stomachs will allow you. It
will be for the best interests of the service.

"Sincerely your friend, Levi Rosenbaum."

"I wonder what game Levi is up to?" Si said, as he stood with the letter
in his hand and looked at the woman. "I'll give her all the coffee I can
and be very civil to her, but that's as far as I'll go. The old rebel
cat. I'll not lie to her for 40 Levi Rosenbaums."

"Well, I will," said Shorty. "You fix her up with the coffee, and leave
the rest to me. I always had a fancy for queer animals, and run off from
home once to travel with a menagerie. I'd like to take her up185 North
and start a side-show with her. 'The Queen o' the Raccoon Mountains,' or
the 'Champion Snuff-Dipper o' the Sequatchie Valley.' How'd that do for
a sign?"

"Well, go ahead," said Si. "But expect no help from me."

"Mr. Klegg, when I want your help in courtin' a lady I'll let you know,"
said Shorty with dignity. Si went back to the tent to see about getting
the coffee, and Shorty approached Mrs. Bolster with an engaging
expression on his countenance. She was knocking the ashes out of her
pipe.

"Let me fill your pipe up again. Madam, with something very choice,"
said he, pulling out a plug of bright natural leaf. "Here's some
terbacker the like o' which you never see in all your born days. It was
raised from seed stole from the private stock of the High-muk-a-muk o'
Turkey, brung acrost the ocean in a silver terbacker box for the use o'
President Buchanan, and planted in the new o' the moon on a piece o'
ground that never before had raised nothin' but roses and sweet-
williams. My oldest brother, who is a Senator from Oshkosh, got just one
plug of it, which he divided with me."

"O, my! is that true?" she gurgled.

"It's as true as that you are a remarkably fine lookin' woman," he said
with unblushing countenance, as he began whittling off some of the
tobacco to fill her pipe. "I was struck by your appearance as soon as I
saw you. I always was very fond of the Southern ladies."

"Sakes alive, air y'?" she asked; "then what air yo'uns down here
foutin' we'uns fur?"186

"That's a long story, m'm," answered Shorty. "It was a trick o' the
Abolition politicians that got us into it. I'm awful sick o' the war
(that we hain't gone ahead and knocked the heads offen this whole crowd
instead o' layin' 'round here in camp for months)" he added as a mental
reservation, "and wisht I was out of it (after we've hung Jeff Davis on
a sour-apple tree). Then I might settle down here and marry some nice
woman. You're a widder, I believe you said."

"Yes, I'm a widder," she answered, taking her pipe from her mouth and
giving him what she intended for a languishing smile, but which Shorty
afterward said reminded him of a sun-crack in a mud fence. "Yes, I'm a
widder. Bin so for gwine on six months. Sakes alive, but ye do talk
nice. You air the best-lookin' Yankee I've ever seed." "Nothin'
painfully bashful about her," thought Shorty. "But I must be careful not
to let her get me near a Justice of the Peace. She'd marry me before I
could ketch my breath. Madam," he continued aloud.

"Yo' may call me Sophrony," she said, with another cavernous smile.

"Well, Sophrony, let me present you with half o' this plug o' famous
terbacker." He drew his jackknife and sliced the plug in two. "Take it,
with my warmest respects. Here comes my partner with some coffee I've
sent him for, and which I want you to have. It is not as much as I'd
like to give you, but it's all that I have. Some other day you shall
have much more."

"Law's sakes." she bubbled, as the fragrant odor187 of the coffee
reached her nose, and she hefted the package. "Yo' air jest the nicest
man I ever did see in all my born days. I didn't s'pose thar wuz so nice
a man, or sich a good-lookin' one, in the hull Yankee army, or in the
oonfederit either, fur that matter. But, then, yo' ain't no real blue-
bellied Yankee."

"No, indeed, Sophrony. I never saw New England in all my life, nor did
any o' my people. They wuz from Virginny (about 500 miles, as near as I
kin calculate)" he added to himself as a mental poultice.

"Say, Mister, why don't you leave the Yankee army?"

"Can't," said Shorty, despairingly. "If I tried to git back home the
Provos 'll ketch me. If I go the other way the rebel's ketch me. I'm
betwixt the devil and the deep sea."

She sat and smoked for several minutes in semblance of deep thought, and
spat with careful aim at one after another of the prominent weeds
around. Then she said:

"If yo' want t' splice with me, I kin take keer o' yo'. I've helped run
off several o' the boys who wuz sick o' this Abolition war. Thar's two
o' them now with Bill Phillips's gang makin' it hot for the Yankee
trains and camps. They're makin' more'n they ever did soljerin', an'
havin' a much better time, for they take whatever they want, no matter
who it belongs to. D' yo' know Groundhog, a teamster? He's in cahoots
with us."

"Oh!" said Shorty to himself. "Here's another lay altogether. Guess it's
my duty to work it for all that it's worth."188

"Is it a bargain?" she said suddenly, stretching out her long, skinny
hand.

"Sophrony," said Shorty, taking her hand, "this is so sudden. I never
thought o' marryin'\x97at least till this cruel war is over. I don't know
what kind of a husband I'd make. I don't know whether I could fill the
place o' your late husband!"

"Yo're not gwine t' sneak out," she said, with a fierce flash in her
gray eyes. "If yo' do I'll have yo' pizened."

"Now, who's talkin' about backin' out?" said Shorty in a fever of
placation, for he was afraid that some of the other boys would overhear
the conversation. "Don't talk so loud. Come, let's walk on toward your
home. We kin talk on the way."

The proposition appeared reasonable. She took the bridle of her horse in
her arm, and together they walked out through the guard-line. The
sentries gave Shorty a deep, knowing wink as he passed. He went the more
willingly, as he was anxious to find out more about the woman, and the
operations of the gang with which she was connected. She had already
said enough to explain several mysterious things of recent occurrence.
Night came down and as her ungainliness was not thrust upon him as it
was in the broad glare of day, he felt less difficulty in professing a
deep attachment for her. He even took her hand. On her part she grew
more open and communicative at every step, and Shorty had no difficulty
in understanding that there was gathered around her a gang that was
practicing about everything detrimental to the army. They were by turns
spies, robbers, murderers, whisky189 smugglers, horse-thieves, and
anything else that promised a benefit to themselves. Ostensibly they
were rebels, but this did not prevent their preying upon the rebels when
occasion offered. Some were deserters from the rebel army, some were
evading the conscript laws, two or three were deserters from our army.

Shorty and the woman had reached a point nearly a half-mile outside of
the guard-line when he stopped and said:

"I can't go no farther now. I must go back." "Why must yo' go back?" she
demanded, with a190 sudden angry suspicion. "I thought yo' wuz gwine
right along with me."

"Why, no. I never thought o' that. I must go back and get my things
before I go with you," said Shorty, as the readiest way of putting her
off.

"Plague take y'r things," she said. "Let 'em go. Yo' kin git plenty more
jest as good from the next Yankee camp. Yo' slip back some night with
the boys an' git yo'r own things, if y'r so dratted stuck on 'em. Come
along now."

She took hold of his wrist with a grip like iron. Shorty had no idea
that a woman could have such strength.

"I want to go back and git my partner," said Shorty. "Me and him 've bin
together all the time we've bin in the army. He'll go along with me, I'm
sure. Me and him thinks alike on everything, and what one starts the
other jines in. I want to go back an' git him."

"I don't like that partner o' your'n. I don't want him. I'll be a better
partner t' yo' than ever he was. Yo' mustn't think more o' him than yo'
do o' me."

"Look here, Sophrony," said Shorty desperately, "I cannot an' will not
go with you to-night. I'm expectin' important letters from home to-
morrow, and I must go back an' git 'em. I've a thousand things to do
before I go away. Have some sense. This thing's bin sprung on me so
suddenly that it ketches me unawares."

With the quickness of a flash she whipped out a long knife from
somewhere, and raised it, and then hesitated a second.

She Whipped out a Long Knife. 189

"I believe yo're foolin' me, and if I wuz shore I'd191 stick yo'. But
I'm gwine t' give yo' a chance. Yo' kin go back now, an' I'll come for
yo' ter-morrer. If you go back on me hit'll be a mouty sorry day for
yo'. Mind that now."

Shorty gallantly helped her mount, and then hurried back to camp.



CHAPTER XIV. SHORTY HAS AN ADVENTURE WITH SI HE GOES OUT TO VISIT MRS.
BOLSTER.

SHORTY sauntered thoughtfully back to the tent, and on the way decided
to tell Si the whole occurrence, not even omitting the deceit practiced.

He had to admit to himself that he was unaccountably shaken up by the
affair.

Si was so deeply interested in the revelations that he forgot to blame
Shorty's double-dealing.

"Never had my nerve so strained before," Shorty frankly admitted. "At
their best, women are curiouser than transmogrified hullaloos, and when
a real cute one sets out to hornswoggle a man he might as well lay down
and give right up, for he hain't no earthly show. She gits away with him
every time, and one to spare. That there woman's got the devil in her
bigger'n a sheep, and she come nigher makin' putty o' your Uncle Ephraim
than I ever dreamed of before. It makes me shivery to think about it."

"I don't care if she's more devils in her than the Gadarene swine, she
must be stopped at once," said Si, his patriotic zeal flaming up. "She's
doin' more mischief than a whole regiment o' rebels, and must be busted
immediately. We've got to stop193 her."

"But just how are we goin' to stop her?" Shorty asked. There was a weak
unreadiness in Shorty's tones that made Si look at him in surprise.
Never before, in any emergency, had there been the slightest shade of
such a thing in his bold, self-reliant partner's voice.

"I'd rather tackle any two men there are in the Southern Confederacy
than that woman," said Shorty. "I believe she put a spell on me."

"Le's go up and talk to Capt. McGillicuddy about it," said Si.
Ordinarily, this was the last thing that either of them would have
thought of doing. Their usual disposition was to go ahead and settle the
problem before them in their own way, and report about it afterward. But
Shorty was clearly demoralized.

Capt. McGillicuddy listened very gravely to their story.

"Evidently that old hen has a nest of bad, dangerous men, which has to
be broken up," he said. "We can get the whole raft if we go about it in
the right way, but we've got to be mighty smart in dealing with them, or
they'll fly the coop, and leave the laugh on us. You say she's coming
back to-morrow?"

"Yes," said Shorty, with a perceptible shiver.

"Well, I want you to fall right in with all her plans\x97both of you.
Pretend to be anxious to desert, or anything else that she may propose.
Go back home with her. I shall watch you carefully, but without seeming
to, and follow you with a squad big enough to take care of anything that
may be out there. Go back to your tent now, and think it194 all over,
and arrange some signal to let me know when you want me to jump the
outfit."

The boys went back to their tent, and spent an hour in anxious
consideration of their plans. Si saw the opportunity to render a great
service, and was eager to perform it, but he firmly refused to tell any
lies to the woman or those around her. He would not say that he was
tired of the service and wanted to desert; he would not pretend liking
for the Southern Confederacy or the rebels, nor hatred to his own
people. He would do nothing but go along, share all the dangers with
Shorty, and be ready at the moment to co-operate in breaking up the
gang.

"Some folks's so durned straight that they lean over backwards," said
Shorty impatiently. "What in thunder does it amount to what you tell
these onery gallinippers? They'll lie to you as fast as a hoss kin trot.
There's no devilment they won't do, and there kin be nothin' wrong in
anything you kin do and say to them."

"Everybody settles some things for himself," said the unchangeable Si.
"I believe them folks are as bad as they kin be made. I believe every
one o' 'em ought to be killed, and if it wuz orders to kill 'em I'd kill
without turnin' a hair. But I jest simply won't lie to nobody, I don't
care who he is. I'll stand by you until the last drop; you kin tell 'em
what you please, but I won't tell 'em nothin', except that they're a
pizen gang, and ought t've bin roastin' in brimstone long ago."

"But," expostulated Shorty, "if you only go along with me you're actin'
a lie. If you go out o' camp with mo you'll pretend to bo desertin' and
j'inin' in195 with 'em. Seems to me that's jest as bad as tellin' a lie
straight out."

"Well," said the immovable Si, "I draw the line there. I'll go along
with you, and they kin think what they like. But if I say anything to
'em, they'll git it mighty straight."

"Well, I don't know but, after all, we kin better arrange it that way,"
said Shorty, after he had thought it over in silence for some time. "I'm
sure that if you'd talk you'd give us dead away. That clumsy basswood
tongue o' your'n hain't any suppleness, and you'd be sure to blurt out
something that'd jest ruin us. An idee occurs to me. You jest go along,
look sour and say nothin'. I'll tell 'em you ketched cold the other
night and lost your speech. It'll give me a turn o' extra dooty talkin'
for two, but I guess I kin do it."

"All right," agreed Si. "Let it go that way."

"Now, look here, Si," said Shorty, in a low, mysterious tone, "I'm goin'
to tell you somethin' that I hadn't intended to. I'm scared to death
lest that old hag'll git the drop on me some way and marry me right out
of hand. I tell you, she jest frightens the life out o' me. That worries
me more'n all the rest put together. I expect I ought t 'v' told you so
at the very first."

"Nonsense," said Si contemptuously. "The idee o' you're being afeared o'
such a thing."

"It's all very well for you to snort and laugh, Si Klegg," persisted
Shorty. "You don't know her. I sneered at her, too, at first, but when I
was left alone with her she seemed to mesmerize me. I found myself
talkin' about marryin' her before I knowed196 it, and the next thing I
was on the p'int o' actually marryin' her. I believe that if she'd got
me to walk a half-mile further with her she'd a run me up agin a Justice
o' the Peace and married me in spite of all that I could do. I'd much
ruther have my head blowed off than married to that old catamount.

"Bah, you can't marry folks unless both are willin'," insisted Si. "A
man can't have a marriage rung in on him willy-nilly."

"There's just where you're shootin' off your mouth without any sense.
You don't know what you're talkin' about. Men are lassoed every day and
married to women that they'd run away from like a dog from a porcupine,
if they could. You jest look around among the married folks you know,
and see how many there are that wouldn't have married one another if
they'd bin in their senses."

"Well, I don't think o' many," said Si, whose remembrances were that the
people in Posey County seemed generally well-mated.

"Well, there mayn't be many, but there's some, and I don't propose to be
one of 'em. There's some spell or witchcraft about it. I've read in
books about things that gave a woman power to marry any man she wanted
to, and he couldn't help himself. That woman's got something o' that
kind, and she's set her eye on me. I'm goin' to meet her, and I want to
help break up her gang, but I'd a great deal rather tackle old Bragg and
his entire army. I want you to stay right by me every minnit, and keep
your eye on me when she's near me."197

"All right," said Si sleepily, as he crawled into bed.

The next morning, as they were discussing the question of signals, they
happened to pass the Sutler's, and Si caught a glimpse of packages of
firecrackers, which the regimental purveyor had, for some inscrutable
reason, thought he might sell. An idea occurred to Si, and he bought a
couple of packages, and stowed them away in his blouse pocket and told
the Captain that their firing would be the signal, unless a musket-shot
should come first.

It was yet early in the forenoon as they walked on the less-frequented
side of the camp. Shorty gave a start, and gasped:

"Jewhilikins, there she is already."

Si looked, and saw Mrs. Bolster striding toward them. Shorty hung back
instinctively for an instant, and then braced up and bade her good
morning.

She grunted an acknowledgment, and said rather imperiously:

"Y're a-gwine, air yo'?"

"Certainly," answered Shorty.

"And yo'?" she inquired, looking at Si.

"He's a-goin', too," answered Shorty. "Mustn't expect him to talk. He's
short on tongue this mornin'. Ketched a bad cold night before last.
Settled on his word-mill. Unjinted his clapper. Can't speak a word.
Doctor says it will last several days. Not a great affliction. Couldn't
've lost anything o' less account."

"Must've bin an orful cold," said she, taking her pipe from her mouth
and eyeing Si suspiciously.198

"Never knowed a cold to shut off any one's gab afore. Seems t' me that
hit makes people talk more. But these Yankees air different. Whar air
yer things? Did yo' bring plenty o' coffee?'

"We've got 'em hid down here in the brush," said Shorty. "We'll git 'em
when we're ready to start."

"We're ready now," she answered. "Come along."

"But we hain't no passes," objected Shorty. "We must go to the Captain
and git passes."

"Yo' won't need no passes," she said impatiently. "Foller me."

Shorty had expected to make the pretext about the passes serve for
informing Capt. McGillicuddy of the presence of the woman in the camp.
He looked quickly around and saw the Captain sauntering carelessly at a
little distance, so that any notification was unnecessary. He turned and
followed Mrs. Bolster's long strides, with Si bringing up the rear.

They went to the clump of brush where they had hidden their haversacks
and guns. Mrs. Bolster eagerly examined the precious package of coffee.

"I'll take keer o' this myself," she said, stowing it away about her
lanky person. "I can't afford to take no resks as to hit."

Si and Shorty had thought themselves very familiar with the campground,
but they were astonished to find themselves led outside the line without
passing under the eye of a single guard. Si looked at Shorty in
amazement, and Shorty remarked:

"Well, I'll be durned."

The woman noticed and understood. "Yo' Yanks,"199 she said scornfully,
"think yourselves moughty smart with all your book-larnin', and yo'uns
put on heaps o' airs over po' folks what hain't no eddication; but what
you don't know about Tennessee woods would make a bigger book than ever
was printed."

"I believe you," said Shorty fervently. His superstition in regard to
her was rapidly augmenting to that point where he believed her capable
of anything. He was alarmed a'bout Capt. McGillicuddy's being able to
follow their mysterious movements. But they soon came to the road, and
looking back from the top of a hill, Shorty's heart lightened as he saw
a squad moving out which he was confident was led by Capt. McGillicuddy.

But little had been said so far. At a turn of the road they came upon a
gray-bearded man, wearing a battered silk hat and spectacles, whom Mrs.
Bolster greeted as "'Squire."

The word seemed to send all the blood from Shorty's face, and he looked
appealingly to Si as if the crisis had come.

The newcomer looked them over sharply and inquired:

"Who are these men, Mrs. Bolster?"

"They'uns 's all right. They'uns 's had enough o' Abolition doin's, and
hev come over whar they'uns allers rayly belonged. This one is a
partickler friend o' mine," and she leered at Shorty in a way that made
his blood run cold.

"Hain't yo' time t' stop a minute, 'Squire?" she asked appealingly, as
the newcomer turned his horse's head to renew his journey.200

"Not now; not now," answered the 'Squire, digging his heels into his
steed's side. "I want to talk t' yo' and these 'ere men 'bout what's
gwine on in the Lincoln camps, but I must hurry on now to meet Capt.
Solomon at the Winding Blades. I'll come over to your house this
evening," he called back.

"Don't fail, 'Squire," she answered, "fur I've got a little job for yo',
an' I want hit partickerly done this very evenin'. Hit can't wait."

"I'll be there without fail," he assured her.

"Capt. Solomon's the man what sent the letter to you," she explained,
which somewhat raised Shorty's depressed heart, for he began to have
hopes that Rosenbaum might rescue him if Capt. McGillicuddy should be
behind time.

As they jogged onward farther from camp Mrs. Bolster's saturnine
earnestness began to be succeeded by what were intended to be
demonstrations of playful affection for her future husband, whom she now
began to regard as securely hers. She would draw Shorty into the path a
little ahead of Si, and walk alongside of him, pinching his arm and
jabbering incoherent words which were meant for terms of endearment.
When the narrowness of the road made them walk in single file she would
come up from time to time alongside with cuffs intended for playful
love-taps.

At each of these Shorty would cast such a look of wretchedness at Si
that the latter had difficulty in preserving his steadfast silence and
rigidity of countenance.

But the woman's chief affection seemed to be called forth by the package
of coffee. She would201 stop in the midst of any demonstration to pull
out the bag containing the fragrant berry, and lovingly inhale its odor.

It was long past noon when she announced: "Thar's my house right ahead."
She followed this up with a ringing whoopee, which made the tumbledown
cabin suddenly swarm with animation. A legion of loud-mouthed dogs
charged down toward the road. Children of various ages, but of no
variety in their rags and unkempt wildness, followed the dogs, or
perched upon the fence-corners and stumps, and three or four shambling,
evil-faced mountaineers lunged forward, guns in hand, with eyes fiercer
than the dogs, as they looked over the two armed soldiers.

"They'uns is all right, boys," exclaimed the woman. "They'uns 's plum
sick o' doggin' hit for Abe Lincoln an' quit."

"Let 'em gin up thar guns, then," said the foremost man, who had but one
eye, reaching for Shorty's musket. "I'll take this one. I've been
longin' for a good Yankee gun for a plum month to reach them Yankee
pickets on Duck River."

Though Shorty and Si had schooled themselves in the part they were to
play, the repugnant thought of giving up their arms to the rebels
threatened to overset everything. Instinctively they threw up their guns
to knock over the impudent guerrillas. The woman strode between them and
the others, and caught hold of their muskets.

"Don't be fools. Let 'em have your guns," she said, and she caught Si's
with such quick unexpectedness that she wrenched it from his grasp and
flung202 it to the man who wanted Shorty's. She threw one arm around
Shorty's neck, with a hug so muscular that his breath failed, and she
wrenched his gun away. She kept this in her hand, however.

"Now, I want these 'ere men treated right," she announced to the others,
"and I'm a-gwine to have 'em treated right, or I'll bust somebody's
skillet. They'uns is my takings, and I'm a-gwine to have all the say
'bout 'em. I've never interfered with any Yankees any o' yo'uns have
brung in. Yo've done with them as you pleased, an' I'm a-gwine to do
with these jest as I please, and yo'uns that don't like hit kin jest
lump hit, that's all."

Take Your Arm from Around That Yank's Neck 203

"'Frony Bolster, I want yo' to take yo'r arms from around that Yank's
neck," said the man who had tried to take Shorty's gun. "I won't 'low
yo' to put yo'r arm 'round another man's neck as long's I'm alive to
stop it."

"Ye won't, Jeff Hackberry," she sneered. "Jealous, air ye? You've got no
bizniss o' bein'. Done tole ye 'long ago I'd never marry yo', so long as
I could find a man who has two good eyes and a 'spectable character.
I've done found him. Here he is, and 'Squire Corson 'll splice us to-
night."

How much of each of the emotions of jealousy, disappointment, hurt
vanity, and rebel antagonism went into the howl that Mr. Jeff Hackberry
set up at this announcement will never be known. He made a rush with
clenched fists at Shorty.

A better description could be given of the operations of the center of a
tornado than of the events of the next few minutes. Shorty and Hackberry
grappled fiercely. Mrs. Bolster mixed in to stop the fight and save
Shorty. Si and the other three rebels flung themselves into the
whirlpool of strikes, kicks, and grapples. The delighted children came
rushing in, and eagerly joined the fray, striking with charming
impartiality at every opportunity to get a lick in anywhere on anybody;
and finally the legion of dogs, to whom such scenes seemed familiar and
gladsome, rushed in with an ear-splitting clamor, and jumped and bit at
the arms and legs that went flying around.204

This was too violent to last long. Everybody and everything had to stop
from sheer exhaustion. But when the stop came Mrs. Bolster was sitting
on the prostrate form of Jeff Hackberry. The others were disentangling
themselves from one another, the children and the dogs, and apparently
trying to get themselves into relation with the points of the compass
and understand what had been happening.

"Have yo' had enough, Jeff Hackberry," inquired Mrs. Bolster, "or will
yo' obleege me to gouge yer other eye out afore yo' come to yer senses?"

"Le' me up, 'Frony," pleaded the man, "an' then we kin talk this thing
over."



CHAPTER XV. SHORTY NEARLY GOT MARRIED BREAKING UP A BAD REBEL NEST IS NO
PICNIC.

WHEN physical exhaustion called a halt in the fracas, Mrs. Bolster was
seated on Jeff Hackberry's breast with her sinewy hands clutching his
long hair, and her thumb, with a cruel, long nail, pressing the ball of
his one good eye. Shorty was holding down one of the guerrillas who had
tried to climb on his back when he was grappling with Hackberry. Si had
knocked one guerrilla senseless with his gun-barrel, and now came to a
breathless standstill in a struggle with another for the possession of
his gun. The children and dogs had broken up into several smaller
stormcenters, in each of which a vicious fight was going on. In some it
was dog and dog; in some child and child, and in others dogs and
children mixed.

Then they all halted to observe the outcome of the discussion between
Mrs. Bolster and Jeff Hackberry.

"Holler 'nuff, Jeff, or out goes yer last light," commanded Mrs.
Bolster, emphasizing her words by rising a little, and then settling
down on Jeff's breast with a force that drove near every spoonful of
breath out of him.

"'Frony, le' me up," he begged in gasps.206

"Mrs. Bolster," she reminded him, with another jounce upon his chest.

"Mrs. Bolster, le' me up. I'd 'a' got away with that 'ere Yank ef ye'
hedn't tripped me with them long legs o' your'n."

"I'm right smart on the trip, aint I," she grinned. "I never seed a man
yit that I couldn't throw in any sort of a rastle."

"Le' me up, Mrs. Bolster, an le's begin over agin, an' yo' keep out,"
begged Hackberry.

"Not much I won't. I ain't that kind of a chicken," she asserted with
another jounce. "When I down a man I down him fer good, an' he never
gits up agin 'till he caves entirely. If I let yo' up, will yo' swar to
quite down peaceable as a lamb, an' make the rest do the same?"

"Never," asserted Hackberry. "I'm ergwine to have it out with that
Yank."

"No you haint," she replied with a still more emphatic jounce that made
Hackberry use all the breath left him to groan.

"I'll quit," he said, with his next instalment of atmosphere.

"Will yo' agree t' let me marry this Yank, an' t' give me away as my
oldest friend, nearest o' kin, an' best man?" she inquired, rising
sufficiently to let him take in a full breath and give a free, unforced
answer.

"Nary a time," he shrieked. "I'll die fust, afore I'll 'low yo' t' marry
ary other man but me."

"Then you'll lose yor bClinker, yo' pigheaded, likker-guzzling', ornery,
no-account sand-hill crane," she said, viciously coming down on his
chest with207 her full weight and sticking the point of hei nail against
his eye. "I wouldn't marry yo' if ye wuz the last nubbin' in the Lord
A'mighty's crib, and thar'd never be another crap o' men. Ye'll never
git no chance to make me yer slave, and beat me and starve me t' death
as yo' did Nance Brill. I ain't gwine t' fool with yer pervarsity nary a
minnit longer. Say this instant whether yo'll do as I say with a
freewill and good heart, or out goes yer peeper." "I promise," groaned
Jeff.208

"Yo' sw'ar hit?" she demanded.

"Yes, I sw'ar hit," answered Jeff.

Mrs. Bolster rose, and confirmed the contract by giving him a kick in
the side with her heavy brogan.

"That's jest a lovetap," she remarked, "'t let yo' know t' le' me alone
hereafter. Now, le's straighten things around here fer a pleasant time."

She initiated her proposed era of good feeling by a sounding kick in the
ribs of the most obstreperous of the dogs, and a slap on the face of a
12-year-old girl, who was the noisest and most pugnacious of the lot.
Each of these set up a howl, but there was a general acquiescence in her
assertion of authority.

Jeff Sat up and Rubbed Himself 208

Jeff Hackberry sat up, scratched and rubbed himself, seemed to be trying
to once more get a full supply of air in his lungs, and turned a one-
eyed glare on his surroundings. The guerrilla whom Si had knocked down
began to show signs of returning consciousness, but no one paid any
attention to him. One of the other two pulled out a piece of tobacco,
split it in two, put the bigger half in his mouth and handed the
remainder to his partner. Both began chewing meditatively and looking
with vacant eyes for the next act in the drama. Shorty regained his gun,
and he and Si looked inquiringly at one another and the mistress of the
ranch.

"Come on up t' the house," she said, starting in that direction. The
rest followed, with Si and Shorty in the lead.

The boys gazed around them with strong curiosity. The interior was like
that of the other log cabins they had seen\x97a rough puncheon floor for
the single room, a fireplace as big as a barn door, built of rough209
stones, with a hearth of undressed flat stones, upon which sat a few
clumsy cooking utensils of heavy cast-iron, three-legged stools for
chairs, a table of rough whip-sawed boards held together by wooden pins.
In two of the corners were beds made of a layer of poles resting upon a
stick supported at one end upon a log in the wall and at the other end a
forked stick driven between the puncheons into the ground below. Upon
this was a pile of beech leaves doing duty as a mattress. The bed-
clothes were a mass of ragged fabrics, sheepskins, etc., used in the
daytime for saddle-blankets and at night upon the bed. There had been
added to them, however, looking particularly good and rich in contrast
with their squalor, several blankets with "U. S." marked upon them.
Around the room were canteens, shoes, and other soldier belongings.

"Have they killed and robbed the men to whom these belonged, or merely
traded whisky for them?" was the thought that instantly flashed through
Si's and Shorty's minds. The answer seemed to be favorable to murder and
robbery. "Set down an' make yourselves at home. I'll git yo' out suthin'
t' wet yer whistles," said Mrs. Bolster, wreathing as much graciousness
as she could into her weathered-wood countenance. She apparently kicked
at the same instant a stool toward them with her left foot, and a dog
out of the way with her right, a performance that excited Shorty's
admiration.

"When I see a woman kick in different directions with both feet at the
same time, I understood how dangerous her trip would be in a rastle," he
said afterward.210

Si and Shorty shoved two of the stools so that they could sit with their
backs to the wall, still holding their guns.

The guerrillas came filing in, with an expectant look on their faces.
Even Jeff Hackberry looked more thirstily longing than wrathful. The man
who had fallen under Si's gunbarrel had gotten able to walk, was rubbing
his head and moaning with the design of attracting attention and
sympathy.

Mrs. Bolster produced a key from her pocket. The others understood what
this meant. They lifted aside some sacks of meal and shelled corn, and
revealed a puncheon which had been cut in two, and the short piece was
garnished by rude iron hinges and hasp, all probably taken from some
burned barn. The hasp was locked into the staple by one of the heavy
padlocks customary on the plantations, and this Mr. Bolster proceeded to
open with her key. When the puncheon was turned up it revealed a pit
beneath, from which she lifted a large jug of whisky. She poured some
out in a tin cup and handed it to Shorty.

"Take a big swig," she said; "hit's mouty good stuff\x97ole Jeff Thompson's
brewin' from yaller corn raised on rich bottom land."

Si trembled as he saw his partner take the cup. Shorty smelled it
appreciatively. "That is good stuff," he said. "Roses ain't nowhere
alongside."

He put the cup to his lips and took a sip.

"Tastes as good as it smells," he said, heartily, while the mouths of
the guerrillas were watering. He put the cup again to his lips, as if to
take a deep draft. Then came a short cough and a tremendous211 sputter,
followed by more painful coughing and strangling.

"Jest my infernal luck," gasped Shorty. "I would talk, an' I got some
down the wrong way.

"Lord, it's burnin' my lights out. Gi' me a drink o' water, somebody."

One of the children handed him a gourdful of water, while he continued
to cough and sputter and blame himself for talking when he was drinking.

The woman handed the cup to Si, who feared that the liquor might be
poisoned or drugged. He made a pretense of drinking, and then handed the
cup back, making motions that his throat was so sore that he could not
drink much. Mrs. Bolster looked at him suspiciously, but the clamor of
the guerillas distracted her attention, and she turned to supply them.

"No, Jeff Hackberry," she said firmly, "yo' can't have more'n two
fingers. I know yo' of old, an' jest how much yo' orter tote. Two
fingers'll make yo' comfortable an' sociable; three'll raise the devil
in yo,' an' four'll make yo' dancin' drunk, when yo'll have t' be held
down. Yo'll have jest two fingers, an' not a drap more."

"Jest another finger, 'Frony. Remember, yo've bin orful rough on me, an'
I need more. I'll promise t' be good," pleaded Hackberry.

"No, not a drap more'n two fingers now. If yo' behave yo'self I'll give
yo' another two fingers by-an'-by."

"Hackberry swallowed his portion at a thirsty gulp and sat down on the
door-sill to let it do its invigorating work. The other two guerrillas
were212 given each two fingers, and the man whom Si knocked down had his
moanings rewarded by three fingers and a liberal application in addition
to the wound on his head, which he declared was much relieved by it.

"Set your guns up agin the wall an' ack nacherul," commanded Mrs.
Bolster. "Nobody's a-gwine to hurt yo'. The 'Squire'll be here soon,
we'll git spliced, an' have a good time all around."

The noisy barking of the dogs announced the approach of someone.

"Lord, I hope that's 'Squire Corson," said Mrs. Bolster, running eagerly
to the door. "If hit's him, we kin go right ahead with the weddin'."

"If that's the 'Squire," said Shorty, in a low whisper, without turning
his head, "we'll grab our guns and fight to the death. We may clean out
this gang."

Si's attention had been in the meanwhile attracted to some boxes
concealed under the beds, and his curiosity was aroused as to what such
unusual things in a cabin might contain.

"No; hit's Capt. Sol. Simmons," said she in a tone of disappointment
mixed with active displeasure. "Now, he'll be cavortin' and tearin'
around, and wantin' t' kill somebody. I wish he wuz whar hit's a good
deal hotter."

She came over to where the boys were sitting, and said in a low tone:

"This man's allers makin' trouble, an' he's bad from his boots up. Keep
a stiff upper lip, both on yo', an' we'll try t' manage him. Don't
weaken. Hit'll do no good. He'll be wuss'n ever then."213

Si and Shorty instinctively felt for the revolvers in their pockets.

The newcomer tied his horse to a sapling and strode into the house. The
guerrillas seemed rather more fearful than otherwise to see him, but met
him with manners that were ranged from respectful by Jeff Hackberry to
absolute servility by the others. He was a burly, black-bearded man,
wearing a fairly-good uniform of a rebel Captain. His face showed that
he was a bully, and a cruel one.

He acknowledged in an overbearing way the greetings of the others, and
called out imperiously:

"'Frony, gi' me a stiff dram o' yer best at wunst. My throat's drier'n a
lime-kiln. Bin ridin' all mornin'."

"Folks wantin' likker don't say must t' me, but will yo', an' please,"
she answered sulkily.

"'Must,' 'please,' yo' hag," he said savagely. "Talk that a-way to me.
I'll 'please' yo'. I've killed two Yankees this mornin', an' I'm not in
the humor to fool around with an old pennyroyal huzzy like yo'. Gi' me
some whisky at wunst, or I'll baste yo'."

If ever Mrs. Bolster had been favorably disposed to him, she could not
endure to have him treat her this way before Shorty. She would assert
herself before him if ever.

She put her arms akimbo and retorted vigorously:

"Nary drap o' likker yo'll git from me, Sol. Simmons. Go and git yer
likker whar y're welcome. Y're not welcome here. I don't keer if yo'
have killed two Yankees or 20 Yankees. Y're allers talkin' about killin'
Yankees, but nobody never sees none that y've killed. I'm a better
Confederit than yo'214 ever dared be. I'm doin' more for the Southern
Confedrisy. Y're allers a-blowin' while I'm allers adoin.' Everybody
knows that. Talk about the two Yankees y've killed, an' which nobody's
seed, here I've brung two Yankees right outen their camps, an' have 'em
to show. More'n that, they're gwine to jine we'uns."

She indicated the two boys with a wave of her hand. Simmons seemed to
see them for the first time.

"Yankees here, an' yo' haint killed 'em," he yelled. He put his hand to
his revolver and stepped forward. The two boys jumped up and snatched
their guns, but before another move could be made Mrs. Bolster's
unfailing trip brought Simmons heavily to the floor, with his revolver
half out the holster. In an instant she sat down heavily upon him, and
laid her brawny hand upon his pistol. The dogs and children gathered
around in joyous expectation of a renewal of general hostilities. But
the dogs broke away at the scent or sight of someone approaching.

"Mebbe that's 'Squire Corson,'" said Mrs. Bolster with a renewed flush
of pleasant anticipation.

Instead, a rather, good-looking young rebel officer wearing a Major's
silver stars dismounted from his horse and, followed by two men, entered
the cabin.

"Hello, Simmons," said the Major in a tone of strong rebuke as soon as
he entered. "What in the world are you doing here? Is this the way you
carry out the General's orders? You're at your old tricks again. You
were sent out here early this morning, to capture or drive away that
Yankee picket at Raccoon Ford, so as to let Capt. Gillen come through215
with his pack-mules. I expected to meet him here and go on with him.
Your men have been waiting at the crossroads for you since daylight,
while you've been loitering around the rear. I ought to have you shot,
and you would be if I reported this to the General. You skulking whelp,
you ought to be shot. But I'll give you one more chance. It may not be
too late yet. Break for your place as fast as you can, and take these
whelps with you. I'll wait here till sundown for you. If you don't
report back to me by that time you'd better make your will. Jump now."

Mrs. Bolster had let go of Simmons as this exordium proceeded, as she
felt that he was in good hands.

As they disappeared the Major turned to Mrs. Bolster and inquired:

"Did Capt. Gillen get through with that quinine and guncaps?"

"They're thar," she said, pointing to the boxes under the beds.

"Very good. I've brought some men to take them away. We need them very
badly. Who are these men?"

Mrs. Bolster told her story about how they were tired of the Abolition
war, and had yielded to her persuasions to join the Southern army.

The Major looked them over sharply, and began a close cross-questioning
as to where they were born, what regiment they belonged to, how long
they had been in the service, what battles they had been engaged in and
on what part of the field, where their regiment now was, its brigade,
division and corps, commanders, etc., etc.216

As Shorty did not see any present occasion for lying, he had no trouble
in telling a convincing straightforward story. Si successfully worked
the loss-of-voice racket, and left the burden of conversation to his
partner.

The Major seemed satisfied, and said at the conclusion:

"Very good. I'll take you back with me when I return, and place you in a
good regiment."

This was a new and startling prospect, which was almost too much for
Shorty's self-control. For a minute he had wild thoughts of
assassinating the Major then and there, and making a run for life. But
he decided to wait a little longer and see what would develop.

If Mrs. Bolster's hue had permitted she would have turned pale at this
threatened loss of a husband and upsetting of all her plans. She merely
gulped down a lump in her throat and seemed to be thinking.

She became very attentive to the Major, and brought for his edification
a private bottle of fine old whisky. She set about preparing something
for them to eat.

Again the dogs barked, and in walked a man dressed in the fatigue
uniform of a Union soldier with the chevrons of a Sergeant. The boys
gave a start of surprise, and a great one when they saw on his cap:

A 200 Ind. Vols.

Si would have sprung up to greet him, but Shorty laid a restraining
hand, and whispered:217

"He don't belong to our regiment."

A second glance satisfied Si of this. While it is hardly possibly for a
man to know every other man in his regiment, yet in a little while there
comes something which enables him to know whether any man he meets does
or does not belong to his regiment.

The Major and Mrs. Bolster instantly recognized the newcomer.

"Awful glad to see you, Tuggers," said the Major, rising and shaking his
hand. "Did you get through without any trouble?"

"Not a bit o' trouble, thanks to you and Mrs. Bolster here. She got me
this uniform and this cap," said Tuggers, taking off the latter article
and scanning the lettering. "Rather more brass than I'm in the habit of
carrying on top of my head, no matter how much I have in my face. I got
your not giving me the positions of the Yankee regiments, for which I
suppose we must also thank Mrs. Bolster. I found them all correct. As
the 200th Ind. was the farthest out, I had no difficulty getting through
the rest of them by saying that I was on my way to my regiment. Of
course, I didn't come through the camp of the 200th Ind., but modestly
sought a byroad which Mrs. Bolster had put me onto. I've got a lot of
important letters from the mail in Nashville, among which are some
letters for the General, which I am told are highly important. I'm
mighty glad to be able to place them in your hands, and relieve myself
of the responsibility. Here they are. Thanks, I don't care if I do,
since you press me so hard,"218 said he, without change of voice, as he
handed over the letters and picked up the bottle and tin cup.

"Excuse me, Tuggers, for not asking you before," said the Major. "I was
so interested in you and your letters I forgot for the moment that you
might be thirsty. Help yourself."

"I didn't forget it," said Tuggers, pouring out a liberal dram. "Here's
to our deserving selves and our glorious Cause."

A shy girl of about eight had responded to Si's persistent
encouragement, and sidled up to him, examining his buttons and
accouterments. Si gave her some buttons he had in his pocket, and showed
her his knife and other trinkets in his pockets. The other children
began to gather around, much interested in the elaborate dumb show he
was making of his inability to speak.

Again the dogs barked. Mrs. Bolster ran to the door. "Hit's 'Squire
Corson," she exclaimed joyously, and hustled around to make extra
preparations for his entertainment.

The 'Squire entered, mopping his face with his bandana, and moving with
the deliberation and dignity consistent with his official position.

He looked at the boys with a severe, judicial eye, and gave the ominous
little cough with which he was wont to precede sentences. But he
recognized the Major and Tuggers, and immediately his attention was
centered in them. They were connected with Army Headquarters; they were
repositories of news which he could spread among his constituents. He
greeted them effusively, and was only too glad to accept their
invitation to sit down and drink. But219 he suggested, with official
prudence, that they go out in front and sit under a tree where they
could converse wore at liberty.

"Afore you go out, 'Squire," said Mrs. Bolster, with an attempt at
coyness, "I want yo' t' do a little job fer me."

Shorty's hair tried to stand on end.

"Jest wait a little, my good woman," said the 'Squire patronizingly. "I
want to talk to these gentlemen first; I kin 'tend to your matter any
time."

They lighted their pipes, and talked and talked, while Mrs. Bolster
fidgeted around in growing anxiety. Finally, as the sun was going down,
she could stand it no longer, and approached the group.

"'Squire," she said, "I'm orferly anxious to have a little job o' mine
done. 'Twon't take yo' five minits. Please 'tend to it right away."

"What is it she wants?" inquired the Major.

"I think she wants me to marry her to a Yankee deserter in there. She
whispered suthin' o' that kind to me awhile ago."

"That reminds me," said the Major; "I want you to swear those two men
into the service of the Southern Confederacy. You might as well do it
now, if you please, for I want to take them back with me and put them
into a regiment."

"That won't give much of a honeymoon to Mrs. Bolster," grinned the
'Squire.

"Well, we've all got to make sacrifices for the Cause," said the Major;
"her honeymoon'll be the sweeter for being postponed. I've had to
postpone mine."

"Well, bring the men out," said the 'Squire, pouring himself out another
drink.220

Si and Shorty had moved to the front door when Mrs. Bolster went out,
and could hear the whole conversation. They looked at one another. Their
faces were whiter than they had ever been on the field of battle.

"Take the oath of allegiance to the Southern Confederacy? Die right here
a hundred times," surged through both their hearts.

Si pulled the bunches of firecrackers from his pocket, undid them before
the children's wondering eyes. He went through a pantomime to tell them
to take a coal from the fire, run out back with them, and touch it to
the fuses.

"Take a coal, run back, and tech it to them strings," said Shorty,
forgetting himself in his excitement. "It'll be the greatest fun ye ever
saw."

"What's that y're sayin'?" said Mrs. Bolster.

"Jest talkin' to the children," said Shorty, seeing with relief the
children bolt out of the back door. He slipped his hand on his revolver,
determined to kill the 'Squire, the Major, and the other three men
before he would take a syllable of the oath.

"Come out here, men," said the Major authoritatively. Si slipped his
hand into his pocket, grasped his revolver, and walked forward very
slowly.

"Ahem," said the 'Squire, with an official cough. "Raise yer right
hands, and repeat these words after me, givin' your own names."

The other rebels took off their hats.

The dogs raised a clamor, which directed all eyes to the road. Sol
Simmons and the rest could be seen coming on a dead run.

"What does that mean?" said the Major anxiously.221

At the same instant there was a series of crashes behind the house; the
firecrackers were going off like a volley of rifle-shots. The Major
whirled around to see what that meant, and looked into the muzzle of
Shorty's revolver.

"Surrender, or I'll kill you," shouted Shorty desperately. "Don't stop a
minit. Throw up your hands, I tell you."

Si was making a similar demand on Tuggers, while the 'Squire was
standing, open-mouthed, with the first word of the oath apparently still
on his tongue.

The Major sprang at Shorty, whose bullet cut his hair. The next bullet
caught the officer in the shoulder, and he reeled and went down. Si was
not so fortunate with Tuggers, who succeeded in grappling him. Simmons
dashed by and struck Si, in passing, with his fist, which sent him to
the ground, with Tuggers on top.

The next minute the 'Squire, who was the only one who had any
opportunity to look, saw Yankees pop out of the brush and jump the
fences in a long, irregular line which immediately surrounded the house.
Capt. McGillicuddy cut down Simmons with his sword, and the rest
incontinently surrendered.

"We had got tired of waiting, and were on the point of dashing in,
anyhow, when we heard the firecrackers," said Capt. McGillicuddy, after
the prisoners had been secured and things quieted down. "That feller
that I cut down was out there with a squad and caught sight of us, and
started back this way, and I concluded to follow him up and jump the
house. Neither of you hurt, are you?"222

"Not hurt a mite," answered Shorty cheerfully, "but it's the closest
squeak I ever had. Wouldn't go through it agin for a pile o' greenbacks
big as a cornshock. Say, Cap., you've made a ten-strike today that ought
to make you a Major. That house's plum full o' contraband, and there's a
lot o' important letters there. But, say, Cap., I want you to either
kill that 'Squire or git him as fur away as possible. I ain't safe a
minnit as long as him and that woman's a-nigh me."



CHAPTER XVI. AN UNEXPECTED MARRIAGE THE BOYS CAPTURE REBELS AND
ADMINISTER THE OATH.

THE REBEL Major accepted the unexpected turn of events with soldierly
philosophy. Tuggers, captured in a blue uniform, saw the ignominious
fate of a spy loom up before his eyes. His face grew very white and set.
He sat down on a log, looked far away, and seemed oblivious to
everything around him.

Jeff Hackberry and Sol Simmons were frightened into nerveless terror,
and occasionally sighed and groaned audibly. Their men huddled together
like frightened sheep, and looked anxiously at every move of their
captors.

'Squire Corson had ventured two or three remarks in a judicial and
advisory way, but had been ordered by Capt. McGillicuddy to sit down and
keep quiet. He took a seat on a stump, pulled a large bandana out of his
beaver crowned hat, wiped his bald head, and anxiously surveyed the
scene as if looking for an opportunity when the power and dignity of the
State of Tennessee might be invoked to advantage.

Only Mrs. Bolster retained her aggressiveness and her tongue. If
anything, she seemed to be more savage and virulent than ever. She was
wild that she had been outwitted, and particularly by Si, whose fluent
speech had returned the moment the224 firecrackers went oif. She poured
out volleys of scorching epithets on all the Yankees from President
Lincoln down to Corp'l Si Klegg, and fervently invoked for them speedy
death and eternal torment where the worm dieth not and the fire is not
quenched.

Capt. McGillicuddy rounded up his prisoners, took arms from those who
still retained them, had Si and Shorty do what they could toward
dressing the Major's wound, and then began an examination of the house.

He found abundant evidence of all that he, Si and Shorty had believed of
it. It was a rendezvous for spies, both great and small\x97both those, like
Mrs. Bolster, who infested our camps, and got news of whatever was going
on there, and those who operated on a larger scale, passing directly
from the Headquarters of the rebels to the Headquarters of ours, and to
the rear, and the sources of information at Nashville and Louisville. It
was an important station on the route for smuggling gun-caps, quinine,
medicines and other contraband from the North. Quantities of these were
there waiting to be forwarded. As the source of the fighting whisky
introduced into the camp of the 200th Ind. too much was known of it to
require any further information. And it was more than probable that it
was the scene of darker crimes\x97Union soldiers lured thither under some
pretext, murdered and robbed.

"How in the world am I going to break this infernal nest up?" said Capt.
McGillicuddy, with a puzzled air, after he had ordered the whisky
destroyed and the other things gotten in shape to send225 back to camp.
"By rights, I ought to burn that house down, but that would leave all
these children without shelter. By the same token, I ought to shoot or
at least send off to prison that old she-catamount, but that would mean
starving the children to death. I declare, I don't know what to do."

He had drawn apart a little with Si and Shorty, to whom he spoke
confidentially, while casting his eyes about him as if seeking some
solution of the problem.

"If you'll allow me. Captain," said Shorty, "I've an idee. Now that
we've got the trap, let's set it agin, and see if we can't ketch some
more."

"Splendid idea. Shorty," said the Captain, catching on at once.

"And my idee," said Shorty, emboldened by the reception of his first
suggestion, "is that you take all the company but me and Si and four or
fire of the boys back to camp, leavin' us here until to-morrow at least.
There'll probably some very interestin' men happen along here to-night,
not knowing what's happened, and we'll jest quietly yank 'em in."

"That's good," assented the Captain.

"In the meantime," continued Shorty, "you kin be considerin' what you'll
do with the house. It may be best to let it stand, and watch it. That's
a good way to do with a bee-tree or a woodchuck hole.

"I believe you are right. I'll do as you say. Si, you and Shorty pick
out as many men as you want to stay with you. I'll leave one of these
horses with you. If you should happen to need any more, mount one of the
boys and send him back for help. I'll come out with the whole
company."226

Shorty and Si consulted together for a few minutes, picked out their
men, gave their names to the Captain, and received his assent to the
selection. Then Shorty said:

"Captain, you don't want to take that old woman, the 'Squire and that
skunk they call Jeff Hackberry back to camp with you, do you? Leave 'em
here with us. I've got a little scheme."

"The old woman and the 'Squire you can take and welcome," answered the
Captain. "I'll be glad to have them oif my hands. But Hackberry is a
rebel soldier. I don't know about giving him up."

"Leave him with us, then. We'll turn him back to you all right, and the
old woman and the 'Squire, too, if you want 'em."

"No," said the Captain, with an impatient wave of his hand. "Keep them,
do what you please with them. If you should accidentally kill the old
woman I should not be unduly distressed. But don't let Hackberry get
away from you. I'll take the rest back to camp, and I must start at
once, for it's getting late, and we didn't bring any rations with us. Do
you suppose you can find enough around the house to keep you till
morning?"

"O, yes," said Si. "There's a sack of meal in there and some side-meat.
We gave the old woman a lot of coffee. We'll make out all right."

The prisoners had been watching the Captain and his men with greatest
anxiety. They now saw Si with his squad take the 'Squire. Mrs. Bolster
and Hackberry off to one side, while the Captain placed the remainder of
the prisoners in the center of his company and started back to camp with
them.227

There was something in this separation that terrified even Mrs. Bolster,
who stopped railing and began to look frightened.

"What are yo'uns goin' to do with we'uns?" she inquired hoarsely of Si.

"You'll find out soon enough," said Si significantly. "Set down there on
that log and think about what you deserve. You might put in any spare
time you have in doing some big repentin'."

Hackberry began to whine and beg for mercy, but Shorty ordered him to
keep silent.

"I want you to understand," said the 'Squire, "that I'm a regerlarly
elected and qualified Magistrate o' the State o' Tennessee; that I'm not
subjeck to military laws, and if any harm comes to me you'll have to
answer for it to the State o' Tennessee."

"Blast the State o' Tennessee," said Shorty contemptuously. "When we git
through there won't be no State o' Tennessee. It'll be roasting in the
same logheap with South Caroliny and Virginny, with Jeff Davis brilin'
in the middle."

"Boys," ordered Si, "a couple of you look around the house and see if
you can't find a mattock and shovel."

Terrible fears assailed the three unhappy prisoners at this. What could
a mattock and shovel be wanted for but to dig their graves?

Shorty stepped over a little distance to a large clump of "red-sticks."
These grow in long wands of brilliant red, as straight as a corn-stalk,
and slenderer. They are much used about the farms of the South for rods
for rough measurement. He cut one off about six feet long and stripped
off its leaves.228

The anxious eyes of the prisoners followed every movement.

Two of the boys appeared with an old mattock and shovel.

"Guess you'd better dig right over there," said Si, indicating a little
bare knoll.

"Nothin' else's ever bin planted there. At least nothin's ever come up.
The chances are agin their comin' up if we plant 'em there."

"Stand up," said Shorty, approaching Hackberry with the bright crimson
rod in his hand. "I'm goin' to measure you for a grass-green suit
that'll last you till Gabriel blows his horn."

Hackberry gave a howl of terror. The 'Squire and Mrs. Bolster began a
clamor of protests.

"Don't fuss," said Shorty calmly to them, as he took Hackberry's
dimensions. "I ain't goin' to show no partiality. I'll serve you both
the same way. Your turns 'll come after his'n."

The children, aware that something unusual was going on, yet unable to
comprehend what it was, stood silently around, their fingers in their
mouths and their vacant eyes fixed in the stolid stare of the
mountaineer youth. Even the dogs were quiet, and seemed watching the
scene with more understanding than the children.

Mrs. Bolster's mood suddenly changed from bitter vituperation. She
actually burst into tears, and began pleading for her life, and making
earnest promises as to better conduct in the future. The 'Squire and
Hackberry followed suit, and blubbered like schoolboys. Mrs. Bolster
reminded Si and Shorty how she had saved them from being killed by
the229 fierce Hackberry and the still fiercer Simmons. This seemed to
move them. She tried a ghastly travesty of feminine blandishments by
telling Shorty how handsome she had thought him, and had fallen in love
with him at first sight. Shorty gave a grimace at this. He and Si
stepped back a little for consultation.

When they came back Shorty said oracularly:

"Our orders is strict, and we should've carried 'em out at once. But,
talkin' with my partner here, we're reminded o' somethin'. We believe
it's the law that when a man or woman is sentenced to death the
execution kin be put off if they kin find anybody to marry 'em. Is that
good law, 'Squire?"

"H-m-m," answered the Magistrate, resuming his judicial manner at once;
"that is a general belief, and I've heard o' some instances of it. But
before sayin' positively, I should like to examine the authorities an'
hear argument."

"Well, there hain't goin' to be no continuance in this case for you to
look up authorities and hear arguments," said Shorty decisively. "We're
the higher court in this case, and we decided that the law's good enough
for it. We've settled that if Mrs. Bolster 'll marry Hackberry, and
Hackberry 'll marry Mrs. Bolster, and you'll marry 'em both, we'll grant
a stay o' proceedings in the matter o' the execution o' the sentence o'
death until we kin be advised by the higher authorities."

"I'll do anything. Mister," blubbered Hackberry. "I'll marry her this
minnit. Say the words, 'Squire."

"I've said I'd rather die 10 times over than marry yo', Jeff Hackberry,"
murmured Mrs. Bolster. "I've280 bin the wife o' one ornery snipe of a
whisky-sucking sand-digger, and when the Lord freed me from him I said
I'd never git yoked with another. But I s'pose I've got to live for my
children, though the Lord knows the yaller-headed brats hain't wuth hit.
They're everyone of 'em their dad over agin\x97all Bolsters, and not wuth
the powder to blow 'em to kingdom come. I'd a heap ruther marry Jeff
Hackberry to make sure o' havin' him shot than to save him from
shootin'."

"You hain't no choice, Madam," said Shorty severely. "Law and orders is
strict on that pint."

"Well, then," said she, "since hit's a ch'ice betwixt death and Jeff
Hackberry, I'll take Jeff Hackberry, though I wouldn't take him on no
other terms, and I'm afeared I'm makin' a mistake as hit is."

"What do you say, 'Squire?" asked Shorty.

"I've bin studyin' on jest whar I come in," answered the Magistrate.
"These two save their necks by marryin', but do you understand that the
law says that the Magistrate who marries 'em gits his neck saved?"

"The court is not clear on that as a p'int o' law," said Shorty; "but in
the present case it'll hold that the 'Squire who does the splicin' gets
as much of a rake-off as the rest. This is not to be considered a
precedent, however."

"All right," assented the 'Squire; "let the couple jine hands."

With an air of glad relief, Hackberry sprang up and put out his hand.
Mrs. Bolster came up more slowly and reluctantly grasped his hairy fist
in her231 large, skinny hand. The 'Squire stood up before them in his
most impressive attitude.

"Hold on," suddenly called out Tom Welch, who was the "guard-house
lawyer" of Co. Q, and constantly drawing the "Regulations," the
"Tactics," and the "Constitution and Laws of the United States," in
which he was sharply proficient, upon the members of the regiment. "I
raise the point that the 'Squire can't officiate until he has taken the
oath of allegiance to the United States."

Si and Shorty looked at one another.

"That's a good point," said Si. "He's got to take the oath of
allegiance."

"Never," shouted the 'Squire, who had begun to recover his self-
confidence. "Never, as long as I live. I've sworn allegiance to the
Southern Confederacy, and won't take no other oath."

"Grave for one!" called out Shorty to the boys with the pick and shovel,
as if he were giving an order in a restaurant. "Full size, and hurry up
with it."

He picked up his measuring rod and started to take the 'Squire's
dimensions.

The 'Squire wilted at once. "I s'pose I've got to yield to force," he
muttered. "I'll take the oath."

"Who knows the oath?" inquired Si. "Do you, Tom?"

"Not exactly," replied Tom, non-plused for once. "But I know the oath we
took when mustered in. That ought to do. What's good enough for us is
good enough for him."

"Go ahead," ordered Si.

"We ought to have a Bible by rights," said Tom.232

"Where kin we find your Bible, Mrs. Bolster, asked Si.

"We'uns air done clean out o' Bibles," she said, rather shamefacedly.
"Thar hain't nary one in the house. I allers said we orter have a Bible.
Hit looked 'spectable to have one in the house. But Andy allers wanted
every cent to guzzle on."

"Here's a Testament. That'll do," said Tom, handing Si one which some of
the boys had about him. "Le's make 'em all take the oath while we're at
it."

"You'll all raise your right hands," said Si, opening the book. "Place
your left on this book, and repeat the words after that man there,
givin' your own names." Si was as solemn about it as he believed
everyone should be at such a ceremony. Hackberry and Mrs. Bolster were
not sure which were their right hands, but Si finally got them started,
and Tom Welch repeated slowly and impressively:

"You do solemnly swear to support the Constitution and laws of the
United States, and all laws made in pursuance thereof, against all
enemies and opposers whatsoever, whether foreign or domestic, and to
obey the orders of all officers duly appointed over you. So help you
God, and kiss this book."

"And to quit liquor selling, smuggling, spying and giving aid and
comfort to the enemy," added Shorty, and this was joined to the rest of
the oath.

"I ought to have added that they wash their faces once a day, and put
more shortenin' and fillin' in Mrs. Bolster's pies," said Shorty in an
undertone to233 Si. "But I suppose we oughtn't to ask impossible
things."

"Now go ahead with the wedding ceremony," ordered Si.

Again the 'Squire commanded them to join hands, and after mumbling over
the fateful words, pronounced Thomas Jefferson Hackberry and Mrs.
Sophronia Bolster man and wife.

"Now," said Shorty, who felt at last fully insured against a great
danger, "I believe it's the law and custom for all the witnesses to a
weddin' to see the bride and bridegroom in bed together. You'll go
inside the house and take one of them beds, and after we've seen you
there we'll consider your cases further. You're all right, anyway, until
we hear from camp to-morrow."

Amid the grins of the rest the boys conducted the newly-weds into the
house.

He and Si brought out the sack of meal, a few cooking utensils, a side
of bacon, and the package of coffee, which they gave to the other boys
to get supper with. They closed the door behind them, excluding the
children and dogs, and left the pair to their own reflections.

"Gentlemen, what air you gwine to do with me?" asked the 'Squire. "I'd
powerful like to git on home, if you've no further use for me."

"We hain't decided what to do with you, you old fomenter o' rebellion,"
said Si. "We ought to shoot you for what you've done in stirring up
these men to fight us. We'll settle your case to-morrow. You'll stay
with us till then. We'll give you your234 supper, and after awhile you
kin go in and sleep in that other bed, with the children."

The 'Squire gave a dismal groan at the prospect, which was lost on the
boys, who were very hungry and hurrying around helping to get supper.

They built a fine fire and cooked a bountiful meal, of which all,
including the 'Squire and children, partook heartily. A liberal portion,
with big cups of strong coffee, were sent into the bridal couple. As
bed-time drew near, they sent the 'Squire and the children into the
house, and divided themselves up into reliefs to watch during the night.



CHAPTER XVII. GATHERING INFORMATION SI AND SHORTY WORK A TRAP AND LAND
SOME PRISONERS.

THE boys were sitting around having another smoke before crawling into
their blankets, spread under the shade of the scraggly locusts and mangy
cedars, when the dogs raised an alarm.

"Get back under the shadow of the trees, boys, and keep quiet," said Si.

"Hello, the house!" came out of the darkness at the foot of the hill.

"Hello, thar' yourself," answered Shorty, imitating Mrs. Bolster's
voice.

"Hit's me\x97Brad Tingle. Don't yo' know my voice? Call off yer dogs.
They'll eat me up."

"Hullo, Brad; is that yo'? Whar'd yo' come from? Git out, thar, Watch!
Lay down, Tige! Begone, Bones! Come on up, Brad."

Shorty's imitations of Mrs. Bolster's voice and manner were so good as
to deceive even the dogs, who changed their attitude of shrill defiance
to one of fawning welcome.

"Whar'd yo' come from, Brad?" repeated Shorty as the newcomer made his
way up the narrow, stony path.

"Jest from the Yankee camps," answered the newcomer. "Me an' Jim Wyatt's
bin over thar by that236 Hoosier camp tryin' to git the drop on their
Kurnel as he was gwine t' Brigade Headquarters. We a'most had him when a
company o' Yankees that'd bin out in the country for something a'most
run over us. They'uns wuz a-nigh on top o' we'uns afore we seed
they'uns, an' then we'uns had t' scatter. Jim run one way an' me
another. I come back here t' see ef yo' had any o' the boys here. I
hearn tell that a passel o' Yankee ossifers is at a dance over at the
Widder Brewster's an' I thought we'uns might done gether they'uns in ef
we'uns went about it right."

"So you kin\x97so you kin," said Shorty, reaching out from behind the
bushes and catching him by the collar. "And to show you how, I'll jest
gether you in."

A harsh, prolonged, sibilant, far-reaching hiss came from the door of
the cabin, but came too late to warn Brad Tingle of the trap into which
he was walking.

Shorty understood it at once. He jerked Tingle forward into Si's strong
clutch, and then walked toward the cabin, singing out angrily:

"Jeff Hackberry, I want you to make that wife o' your'n mind her own
bisness, and let other people's alone. You and her've got quite enough
to do to tend to your honeymoon, without mixing into things that don't
concern you. Take her back to bed and keep her there."

He went back to where Si was disarming and searching Tingle. The
prisoner had a United States musket, cartridge-box, canteen, and a new
haversack, all of which excited Shorty's ire.237

"You hound, you," he said, taking him by the throat with a fierce grasp,
"you've bin bushwhacking, and got these things off some soldier you
sneaked onto and killed. We ought to kill you right now, like we would a
dog."

"No, Mister, I haint killed nobody; I swar t' God I haint," gurgled the
prisoner, trying to release his throat from Shorty's grip.

"Where'd you git these things?" demanded Shorty.

"Mrs. Bolster gi' me the gun an' cartridge-box; I done found the canteen
in the road, an' the poke with the letters in hit the Yank had done laid
down beside him when he stopped t' git a drink, an' me an' Jim crep' up
on him an' ordered him to surrender. He jumped an' run, an' we wuz af
eared to shoot least we bring the rest o' the Yanks down onto us."

At the mention of letters Si began eagerly examining the contents of the
haversack. He held some of them down to the light of the fire, and then
exclaimed excitedly:

"Why, boys, this is our mail. It was Will Gobright they were after."

A sudden change came over Shorty. He took the prisoner by the back of
the neck and ran him up to the door of the house and flung him inside.
Then he hastened back to the fire and said:

"Le's see them letters."

A pine-knot had been thrown on the fire to make a bright blaze, by the
light of which Si was laboriously fumbling over the letters. Even by the
flaring, uncertain glare it could be seen that a ruddy hue came into his
face as he came across one with a gorgeous flag on one end of the
envelope, and directed in a238 pinched, labored hand on straight lines
scratched by a pin. He tried to slip the letter unseen by the rest into
his blouse pocket, but fumbled it so badly that he dropped the rest in a
heap at the edge of the fire.

"Look out, Si," said Shorty crossly, and hastily snatching the letters
away from the fire. "You'll burn up somebody's letters, and then
there'll be no end o' trouble. You're clumsier'n a foundered horse. Your
fingers are all thumbs."

"Handle them yourself, if you think you kin do any better," said Si,
who, having got all that he wanted, lost interest in the rest. If Si's
fingers were all thumbs. Shorty's seemed all fists. Besides, his reading
of handwriting was about as laborious as climbing a ladder. He tackled
the lot bravely, though, and laboriously spelled out and guessed one
address after another, until suddenly his eye was glued on a postmark
that differed from the others. "Wis." first caught his glance, and he
turned the envelope around until he had spelled out "Bad Ax" as the rest
of the imprint. This was enough. Nobody else in the regiment got letters
from Bad Ax, Wis. He fumbled the letter into his blouse pocket, and in
turn dropped the rest at the edge of the fire, arousing protests from
the other boys.

"Well, if any o' you think you kin do better'n I kin, take 'em up. There
they are," said he. "You go over 'em, Tom Welch. I must look around a
little."

Shorty secretly caressed the precious envelope in his pocket with his
great, strong fingers, and pondered as to how he was going to get an
opportunity to read the letter before daylight. It was too sacred239 and
too sweet to be opened and read before the eyes of his unsympathetic,
teasing comrades, and yet it seemed an eternity to wait till morning. He
stole a glance out of the corner of his eye at Si, who was going through
the same process, as he stood with abstracted air on the other side of
the fire. The sudden clamor of the dogs recalled them to present duties.

"Hullo, the house!" came out of the darkness.

"Hullo, yourself!" replied Shorty, in Mrs. Bolster's tones.

"It's me\x97Groundhog. Call off yer dogs."

Si and Shorty looked startled, and exchanged significant glances.
"Needn't 've told it was him," said Shorty. "I could smell his breath
even this far. Hullo, Groundhog," he continued in loud tones. "Come on
up. Git out, Watch! Lay down, Tige! Begone, Bones! Come on up,
Groundhog. What's the news?"

A louder, longer, more penetrating hiss than ever sounded from the
house. Shorty looked around angrily. Si made a break for the door.

"No, I can't come up now," said Groundhog; "I jest come by to see if
things wuz all right. A company went out o' camp this mornin' for some
place that I couldn't find out. I couldn't git word t' you, an' I've bin
anxious 'bout whether it come this way."

"Never tetched us," answered Shorty, in perfect reproduction of Mrs.
Bolster's accents. "We'uns is all right."

The hissing from the cabin became so loud that it seemed impossible for
Groundhog not to hear it.240

"Blast it, Si, can't you gag that old guinea-hen," said Shorty, in a
savage undertone.

Si was in the meanwhile muttering all sorts of savage threats at Mrs.
Bolster, the least of which was to go in and choke the life out of her
if she did not stop her signalling.

"Glad t' hear it," said Groundhog. "I was a leetle skeery all day about
it, an' come out as soon's I could. Have yo' seed Brad Tingle?"

"Yes; seen him to-day."

"D' yo' know whar he is? Kin yo' git word to him quick?"

"Yes, indeed; right off."

"Well, send word to him as soon as you kin, that I've got the mules
ready for stampedin' an' runnin' off at any time, an' waitin' for him.
The sooner he kin jump the corral the better. To-night, if he kin, but
suttinly not later'n to-morrer night. Be sure and git word to him by
early to-morrer mornin' at the furthest."

"I'll be sure t' git word t' him this very night," answered the
fictitious Mrs. Bolster.

"Well, good-night. I must hurry along, an' git back afore the second
relief goes off. All my friends air on it. See yo' ter-morrer, if I
kin."

"You jest bet you'll see me to-morrow," said Shorty grimly, as he heard
Groundhog's mule clatter away. "If you don't see me the disappointment
'll come nigh breaking my heart. Now I'll go in and learn Mr. and Mrs.
Hackberry how to spend the first night o' their wedded lives."

"I don't keer ef yo' do shoot me. I'd a heap ruther be shot than not,"
she was saying to Si as Shorty241 came up. "I've changed my mind sence
I've bin put in here. I'd a heap ruther die than live with Jeff
Hackberry."

"Never knowed married folks to git tired o' one another so soon,"
commented Shorty. "But I should've thought that Jeff' d got tired first.
But this it no time to fool around with fambly jars. Look here, Jeff
Hackberry, you must make that wife o' yourn keep quiet. If she tries to
give another signal we'll tie you up by the thumbs now, besides shoot
you in the mornin'."

"What kin I do with her?" whined Jeff.

"Do with her? You kin make her mind. That's your duty. You're the head
o' the fambly."

"Head o' the fambly?" groaned Jeff, in mournful sarcasm. "Mister, you
don't seem to be acquainted with 'Frony.

"Head o' the fambly," sneered his wife. "He aint the head o' nothin'.
Not the head o' a pin. He haint no more head'n a fishworm."

"Look here, woman," said Shorty, "didn't you promise to love, honor and
obey him?"

"No, I didn't nuther. I said I'd shove, hammer an' belay him. Hit's none
o' yer bizniss, nohow, yo' sneakin' Yankee' what I do to him. You hain't
no call t' mix betwixt him an' me. An' my mouth's my own. I'll use hit
jest as I please, in spite o' yo' an' him, an' 40 others like yo'. Hear
that?"

"Well, you git back into that bed, an' stay there, and don't you dare
give another signal, or I'll buck-and-gag you on your wedding-night."

"Don't you dar tetch me," she said menacingly.

"I aint goin' to tech you. I'm too careful what I242 touch. But I'll tie
you to that bed and gag you, if you don't do as I say. Get back into bed
at once."

"I ain't gwine t', and yo' can't make me," she said defiantly.

"Take hold of her, Jeff," said Shorty, pulling out his bayonet and
giving that worthy a little prod.

Jeff hesitated until Shorty gave him a more earnest prod, when he
advanced toward his wife, but, as he attempted to lay his hands on her
shoulders, she caught him, gave him a quick twist and a trip, and down
he went; but he had clutched her to save himself from falling, and
brought her down with him. Shorty caught her elbows and called to Si to
bring him a piece of cord, with which he tied her arms. Another piece
bound her ankles. She lay on the floor and railed with all the vehemence
of her vicious tongue.

"Pick her up and lay her on the bed there," Shorty ordered Jeff. Jeff
found some difficulty in lifting the tall, bony frame, but Shorty gave
him a little help with the ponderous but agile feet, and the woman was
finally gotten on the bed.

"Now, we'll gag you next, if you make any more trouble," threatened
Shorty. "We don't allow no woman to interfere with military operations."

They had scarcely finished this when the dogs began barking again, and
Si and Shorty hurried out. The operations in the house had rather heated
them, the evening was warm, and Shorty had taken off his blouse and
drawn it up inside of his belt, in the rear.

The noise of the dogs betokened the approach of something more than
usual visitors. Through the clamor the boys' quick ears could detect the
clatter243 of an ominous number of hoofs. The other boys heard it, too,
and were standing around, gun in hand, waiting developments.

"Hullo, dere, de house!" came in a voice Si and Shorty dimly recognized
having heard somewhere before.

"Hullo, yourself," answered Shorty. "Who air yo?"243

"I'm Capt. Littles," came back above the noise of barking. "Call off
your togs. I'm all righdt. Is it all right up dere?"

"Yes. Lay down. Watch! Git out, Tige!" Shorty started to answer, when he
was interrupted by the apparition of Mrs. Bolster-Hackberry flying out
of the door, and yelling at the top of her voice:

"No, hit ain't all right at all. Captain. The Yankees 've got us. Thar's
a right smart passel o' 'em here, with we'uns prisoners. Jump 'em, if
you' kin. If yo' can't, skeet out an' git enough t' down 'em an' git us
out."

Si and Shorty recognized that the time for words was passed. They
snatched up their guns and fired in the direction of the hail. The other
boys did the same. There was a patter of replying shots, aimed at the
fire around which they had been standing, but had moved away from.

Apparently, Capt. Littles thought the Yankees were in too great force
for him to attack, for his horses could be heard moving away. The boys
followed them with shots aimed at the sound. Si and Shorty ran down
forward a little ways, hoping to get a better sight. The rebels halted,
apparently244 dis mounted, got behind a fence and began firing back at
intervals.

Si and Shorty fired from the point they had gained, and drew upon
themselves quite a storm of shots.

"Things look bad," said Si to Shorty. "They've halted there to hold us
while they send for reinforcements. We'd better go back to the boys and
get things in shape. Mebbe we'd better send back to camp for help."

"We'll wait till we find out more about 'em," said Shorty, as they moved
back. They had to cross the road, upon the white surface of which they
stood out in bold contrast and drew some shots which came uncomfortably
close.

The other boys, after a severe struggle, had caught Mrs. Bolster-
Hackberry and put her back in the cabin. After a brief consultation, it
was decided to hold their ground until daylight. They could get into the
cabin, and by using it as a fortification, stand off a big crowd of
enemies. The rest of the boys were sent inside to punch out loop-holes
between the logs, and make the place as defensible as possible. Si and
Shorty were to stay outside and observe.

"I've got an idee how to fix that old woman," said Shorty suddenly.

"Buck-and-gag her?" inquired Si.

"No; we'll go in there and chuck her down that hole where she kept her
whisky, and fasten the hasp in the staple."

"Good idee, if the hole will hold her."

"It's got to hold her. We can't have her245 rampaging round during the
fight. I'd rather have a whole company o' rebels on my back."

They did not waste any words with the old woman, but despite her yells
and protests Si took hold of one shoulder Shorty the other, and forced
her down in the pit and closed the puncheon above her.

They went out again to reconnoiter. The enemy was quiet, apparently
waiting. Only one shot, fired in the direction of the fire, showed that
they were still there.

Shorty suddenly bethought him of his blouse, in the pocket of which was
the precious letter. He felt for it. It was gone. He was stunned.

"I remember, now," he said to himself, "it was working out as I ran, and
it slipped down as I climbed the fence."

He said aloud:

"Si, I've lost my blouse. I dropped it down there jest before we crossed
the road. I'm goin' to get it."

"Blast the blouse," said Si; "let it be till mornin'. You need something
worse'n a blouse to-night. You'll ketch a bullet sure's you're alive if
you try to go acrost that road agin. They rake it."

"I don't care if they do," said Shorty desperately. "I'd go down there
if a battery raked it. There's a letter in the pocket that I must have."

Si instinctively felt for the letter in his own pocket. "Very well," he
said, "if you feel as if you must go I'll go along."

"No, you sha'n't. You stay here in command; it's your duty. You can't
help if you do go. I'll go alone. I'll tell you what you might do,
though. You might go over there to the left and fire on 'em, as if246 we
wuz feelin' around that way. That'll draw some o' their attention."

Si did as suggested.

Shorty crept back to the point they had before occupied. The rebels saw
him coming over a httle knoll, and fired at him. He ran for the fence.
He looked over at the road, and thought he saw the blouse lying in the
ditch on the opposite side. He sprang over the fence and ran across the
road. The rebels had anticipated this and sent a volley into the road.
One bullet struck a small stone, which flew up and smote Shorty's cheek
so sharply that he reeled. But he went on across, picked up the blouse,
found the dear letter, and deliberately stopped in the road until he
transferred it to the breast of his shirt. Then he sprang back over the
fence, and stopped there a moment to rest. He could hear the rebel
Captain talking to his men, and every moment the accents of the voice
became more familiar.

"Don't vaste your shods," he was saying. "Don'd vire undil you sees
somedings to shood ad, unt den vire to hid. See how many shods you haf
alretty vired mitout doing no goot. You must dink dat ammunition's as
blenty as vater in de Southern Confederacy. If you hat as much druble as
I haf to ket cartridges you vould pe more garcful of dem."

Capt. Littles was Rosenbaum, the Jew spy, masquerading in a new role.
Shorty's heart leaped. Instantly he thought of a way to let Rosenbaum
know whom he had run up against.

"Corporal Si Klogg!" he called out in his loudest tones.

"What is it, Shorty?" answered the wondering Si.247

"Don't let any more o' the boys shoot over there to the left. That's the
way Capt. McGillicuddy's a-comin' in with Co. Q. I think I kin see him
now jest raisin' the hill. Yes, I'm sure it's him."

The next instant he heard the rebel Captain saying to his men:

"Boys, dey're goming up in our rear. Dey're de men ve saw a liddle vhile
ago. De only vay is to mount unt make a rush past de house. All mount
unt vollow me as vast as dey gan."

There was a gallop of horsemen up the road, and they passed by like the
wind, while Si and Shorty fired as fast as they could load\x97Shorty over
their heads. Si at the noise. Just opposite the house the Captain's
horse stumbled, and his rider went over his head into a bank of weeds.
The rest swept on, not heeding the mishap.

"Surrender, Levi," said Shorty, running up.

"Certainly, my tear poy," said Rosenbaum. "Anyding dat you vant. How are
you, any vay? Say, dat vas a nead drick, vasn't it? Haf your horse
sdumble unt trow you jest ad de righd dime unt place? It dook me a long
dime to deach my horse dot. I'm mighty glat to see you."

248



CHAPTER XVIII. THE JEW SPY AGAIN MR. ROSENBAUM RECITES A THRILLING
EXPERIENCE.

"HIST, boys, don't talk friendly to me out loud," said the prudent
Rosenbaum. "What's happened? I know you have got the house. I have been
expecting for a long time that there would be a raid made upon it. What
the devil is that saying you have: 'It's a long worm that don't have a
turn.' No; that isn't it. 'It's an ill lane that blows nobody no good.'
No; that's not it, neither. Well, anyway, Mrs. Sophronia unt her crowd
got entirely too bold. They played too open, unt I knew they'd soon get
ketched. Who did you get in the house?"

Si started to call over the names, and to recite the circumstances, but
as he reached that of Brad Tingle, Rosenbaum clutched him by the arm and
said earnestly:

"Hold on. Tell me the rest after a while. I'm afraid of that man. He's
come pretty near getting on to me several times already. He's listening
now, unt he'll be sure to suspect something if he don't hear you
treating me as you did the others. Begin swearing at me as you did at
the rest."

Si instantly took the hint.

"I'll stand no more foolishness," he called out249 angrily. "If you
don't surrender at once I'll blow your rebel head off."

"I have to give up," Rosenbaum replied in an accent of pain, "for I
believe I broke my leg when I fell. I find I can't stand up."

"Give up your arms, then, and we'll help you up to the fire, and see how
badly you're hurt," said Si.

Rosenbaum gave groans of anguish as Si and Shorty picked him up and
carried him over to the fire.

"Now we're out of ear-shot o' the house," said Si, as they deposited him
on the opposite side, and somewhat behind a thicket of raspberries, "and
we can talk. Where did you come from this time, Levi?"

"Straight from General Bragg's Headquarters at Tullahoma, and I have got
information that will make General Rosecrans's heart jump for joy. I
have got the news he has been waiting for all these weeks to move his
army. I have got the number of Bragg's men, just where they are
stationed, and how many is at each place. I'm crazy to get to General
Rosecrans with the news. I have been cavorting around the country all
day trying some way to get in, unt at my wits' ent, for some of the men
with me had their suspicions of me, unt wouldn't have hesitated to shoot
me, if they didn't like the way I was acting. To tell the truth, it's
been getting pretty hot for me over there in the rebel lines. Too many
men have seen me in Yankee camps. This man. Brad Tingle, has seen me
twice at General Rosecrans's Headquarters, unt has told a lot of stories
that made much trouble. I think that this is the last250 visit I'll pay
General Bragg. I'm fond of visiting, but it rather discourages me to be
so that I can't look at a limb running out from a tree without thinking
that it may be where they will hang me."

"Excuse me from any such visitin'," said Si sympathetically. "I'd much
rather stay at home. I've had 12 or 15 hours inside the enemy's lines,
playin' off deserter, and I've had enough to last me my three years.
I'll take any day o' the battle o' Stone River in preference. I ain't
built for the spy business in any shape or form. I'm plain, out-and-out
Wabash prairie style\x97everything above ground and in sight."

"Well, I'm different from you," said Shorty. "I own up that I'm awfully
fond o' a game o' hocuspocus with the rebels, and tryin' to see which
kin thimble-rig the other. It's mighty excitin' gamblin' when your own
head's the stake, an' beats poker an' faro all holler. But I want the
women ruled out o' the game. Never saw a game yit that a woman wouldn't
spile if she got her finger in."

"Mrs. Bolster came mighty near marrying him, and he's pale yet from the
scare," Si explained.

"Yes," said Shorty frankly. "You'll see I'm still while all around the
gills. Never wuz so rattled in my life. That woman's a witch. You could
only kill her by shooting her with a silver bullet. She put a spell on
me, sure's you're a foot high. Lord, wouldn't I like to be able to
manage her. I'd set her up with a faro-bank or a sweat-board, and she'd
win all the money in the army in a month."

"Yes, she's a terror," accorded Rosenbaum. "She251 made up her mind to
marry me when I first come down here. I was awfully scared, for I was
sure she saw through me sharper than the men did, and would marry me or
expose me. But I got some points on her about poisoning a neighboring
woman that she hated unt was jealous of, unt then I played an immediate
order from General Bragg to me to report to his Headquarters. But it
took all the brains I had to keep her off me."

"She's safe now from marryin' anybody for awhile," said Shorty, and he
related the story of her nuptials, which amused Rosenbaum greatly.

"But you have signed Jeff Hackberry's death warrant," he said. "If he
tries to live with her she'll feed him wild parsnip, unt he'll get a
house of red clay, that you put the roof on with a shovel. It'll be no
great loss. Jeff ain't worth in a year the bread he'll eat in a day."

"She may be smothered in that hole," Shorty bethought himself. "I guess
we'd better let her out for awhile."

"Yes," said Rosenbaum. "She can't do no harm now. Nobody else will come
this way to-night. The men that were with me will scatter the news that
the house is in Yankee hands. They think there's a big force here, unt
so we won't be disturbed till morning."

"Then I'll go in and let her out," said Shorty.

The other inmates of the cabin were asleep when he entered, but they
waked up, and begged him not to let the woman out until morning.

"Keep her in there till daylight," said 'Squire Corson, "and then
restore me to my home and functions,252 and I'll call out a posse
comitatus, and have her publicly ducked, according to the laws of the
land, as a common scold. I've never heard such vile language as she
applied to me when I gave her the advice it was my duty to give to live
in peace and quietness with her husband. That there woman's a Niagary of
cuss words and abuse."

"If yo' let her out, take me outside with yo'," begged Jeff Hackberry.
"She'll kill me, sho', if I've to stay in here till mornin' with her.
She begun by flingin' a bag o' red pepper in my face, and set us all to
sneezin' until I thought the 'Squire'd sneeze his durned head off. Then
she jobbed me with a bayonet, and acted as no woman orter act toward her
lawful husband, no matter how long they'd bin married, let alone their
weddin' night."

"Sorry, but it's agin all my principles to separate man and wife," said
Shorty, as he moved to the puncheon trap-door and undid the hasp. "You
took her for better or worse, and it's too early in the game to complain
that you found her a blamed sight worse than you took her for. You're
one now, you know, and must stay that way until death do you part."

Shorty lifted up the trap-door, and Si helped the woman out with some
difficulty. They expected a torrent of abuse, but she seemed limp and
silent, and sank down on the floor. The boys picked her up and laid her
on the bed beside Jeff Hackberry. "She's fainted; she's dead. She's bin
sufferkated in that hole," said Jeff.

"No, yo' punkin-headed fool," she gasped. "I hain't dead, nor I hain't
fainted, nor I hain't253 sufferkated. Yo'll find out when I git my wind
back a little, I'm so full o' mad an' spite that I'm done tuckered clean
out. I'm clean beat, so clean beat that I hain't no words to fit the
'casion. I've got t' lay still an' think an' gether up some."

"She's comin' to, Shorty," said Si. "It'll be pleasanter outside."

"You say you have been having unusually exciting times," said Si to
Rosenbaum, as the boys again seated themselves by the fire.

"Veil, I should say so," replied Rosenbaum with emphasis. "Do you know
that General Bragg is the very worst man that ever lived?"

"All rebels are bad," said Shorty oracularly. "But I suppose that some
are much worse than others. I know that the private soldiers are awful,
and I suppose the higher you go the wuss they are. The Corporals are
cussider than the privates, the Sergeants can give the Corporals points
in devilishness, and so it goes on up until the General commanding an
army must be one of the devil's favorite imps, while Jeff Davis is Old
Horney's junior partner."

"No; it isn't that," said Rosenbaum. "I've known a good many rebel
Generals, unt some of them ain't really bad fellers, outside of their
rebelness. But old Bragg is a born devil. He has no more heart than a
rattlesnake. He actually loves cruelty. He'd rather kill men than not.
I've seen plenty of officers who were entirely too willing to shoot men
for little or nothing. General Bragg is the only man I ever saw who
would shoot men for nothing at all\x97just 'for example,' as he says, unt
to make the others254 afraid unt ready to obey him. He coolly calculates
to shoot so many every month. If they've done anything to deserve it,
all right. If they hain't, he shoots them all the same, just to
'preserve discipline.'"

Si and Shorty uttered exclamations of surprise at this cold-blooded
cruelty.

"I know it's hard to believe," said Rosenbaum, "but it's true all the
same, as anybody around his Headquarters will tell you. Jeff Davis knows
it unt approves it. He is the same kind of a man as General Bragg\x97no
more heart than a tiger, I have seen a good deal of the inside of the
rebel army, unt General Bragg is the coldest-blooded, cruelest man in it
or in the whole world. It's true that the men he orders shot are
generally of no account, like our man Jeff Hackberry\x97but it's the
principle of the thing that shocks me. He just takes a dislike to the
way a man looks or acts, or the way he parts his hair, looks at him with
his steely-gray eyes, unt says coldly: 'Put him in the bull-pen.' In the
bullpen the poor devil goes, unt the next time General Bragg gets an
idea that the discipline of the army is running down, unt he must
stiffen it up with a few executions, he orders all the men that happen
to be in the bull-pen taken out unt shot."

"Without any trial, any court-martial, any evidence against them?"
gasped Si.

"Absolutely without anything but General Bragg's orders. It is like you
read of in the books about those Eastern countries where the Sultan or
other High-muk-a-muk says, 'Cut that man's head off,' unt the man's head
is cut off, unt no questions asked.255 unt no funeral ceremonies except
washing up the blood."

"Lucky for you, Levi," said Shorty, "that he didn't have any of the
common prejudices against Jews, and slap you in the bull-pen."

"O, but he did," said Rosenbaum. "He hated a Jew worse than any man I
ever met. Unt it brought me so near death that I actually watched them
digging my grave.

"While I had my ups unt downs, unt some very narrow escapes," continued
Rosenbaum, "when I first went inside Bragg's lines, I got along very
well generally. I played the peddler unt smuggler for the Southern
Confederacy in great shape, unt run them through a lot of gun-caps,
quinine, medicines, unt so so on, unt brought in a great deal of
information which they found to be true. Some of dis General Rosecrans
gave me himself, for he is smart enough to know that if he wants his
Secret Service men to succeed he must give them straight goods to carry
to the enemy.

"I brought in exact statements of what divisions, brigades unt regiments
were at this place unt that place, how many men was in them, who their
commanders were, unt so on. General Rosecrans would have these given me.
It helped him in his plans to know just what information was reaching
the enemy, for he knew just how old Bragg would act when he had certain
knowledge. If he knew that Sheridan with 6,000 men was at this place,
with Tom Wood 10 miles away with 6,000 more, he would do a certain
thing, unt Rosecrans would provide for it. The news that I brought in
the rebels could test by256 the reports they got from others, unt they
always found mine correct.

"My work pleased the rebel Generals so well that they made me a Captain
in their army, transferred me from Brigade Headquarters to Division, unt
then to Corps Headquarters. I was given command of squads of scouts. I
can draw very well, unt I made good maps of the country unt the roads,
with the positions of Yankee unt rebel forces. This was something that
the other rebel spies could not do, unt it helped me lots. I was careful
to make copies of all these maps, unt they got to General Rosecrans's
Headquarters.

"The other rebel spies got very jealous of me because I was promoted
over them, unt they laid all sorts of plans to trip me up. They came
awful near catching me several times, but I was too smart for them, unt
could outwit them whenever I got a pointer as to what they were up to.
Once they watched me go to a hollow sycamore tree, which I used as a
postoffice for Jim Jones to get the things I wanted to send to General
Rosecrans. They found there maps I had made at Shelbyville, with the
positions of the rebel un Yankee forces unt the fortifications all
shown.

"That was an awful close call, unt I could feel the rope tightening
around my neck. But I kept my nerve, unt told a straight story. I said
that that tree was my regular office where I kept lots of things that I
was afraid to carry around with me when I was in danger of falling into
the Yankee hands, as I was every day when I was scouting. Luckily for me
I had some other private things unt a lot of257 Confederate money hid
there, too, which I showed them. They didn't more than half believe my
story, but they led me off, probably because they needed me so bad.

"I saw that the thing was only skimmed over, unt was ready to break out
again any minute worse than ever, unt I kept my eyes peeled all the
time. That's one reason why you have not seen me for so long. I didn't
dare send General Rosecrans anything or go near outside the rebel lines.
I had to play very good, but I kept gathering up information for the day
when I should make a final break unt leave the rebels for good.

"A week ago I was ordered to go up to General Bragg's Headquarters to
help them with their maps unt reports. They had nobody there that could
do the work, unt Jeff Davis, who always wants to know everything about
the armies, was bunching them up savagely for full information. He
wanted accurate statements about the Yankee strength unt positions, unt
about the rebel strength unt positions, to see if he couldn't do
something to pull the Yankees off of Pemberton at Vicksburg. Bragg's
Adjutant-General sent word through all the army for to find good rapid
penmen unt map-makers, unt I was sent up.

"The Adjutant-General set me to work under a fly near Headquarters, unt
he was tickled almost to death with the way I did my work. Old Bragg
himself used to walk up unt down near, growling unt cussing unt swearing
at everything unt everybody. Once or twice the Adjutant-General called
his attention to my work. Old Bragg just looked it over, grunted, unt
bored me through unt through with258 those sharp, cold, gray eyes of
his. But I thought I was safe so long as I was at Headquarters, unt I
gave a great stiff to other Secret Service men who had been trying to
down me.

Old Bragg Used to Walk up Unt Down, Growling Unt Cussing. 259

"One morning old Bragg was in an awful temper\x97the worst I had ever seen.
Every word unt order was a cruelty to somebody. Finally, up comes this
Brad Tingle that you have inside. He is a sort of a half-spy\x97not brains
enough to be a real one, but with a good deal of courage unt activity to
do small work. He had been sent by General Cheatham to carry some papers
unt make a report. Whatever it was, it put old Bragg in a worse temper
than ever. Brad Tingle happened to catch sight of me, unt he said in a
surprised way:

"'Why, there's that Jew I saw sitting in General Rosecrans's tent
talking to him, when I was playing off refugee Tennesseean in the Yankee
camps.'

"'What's that? What's that, my man?' said old Bragg, who happened to
overhear him.

"Brad Tingle told all he knew about me. Old Bragg turned toward me unt
give me such a look. I could feel those cold, cruel eyes boring straight
through me.

"'Certainly he is a Jew, unt one of old Rosecrans's best spies,' he
said. 'Old Rosecrans is a Jew, a Dutch Jew, himself. I knowed him well
in the old army. He's got a regular Jew face. He plays off Catholic, but
that is to hide his Jewishness. He can't do it. That hook nose'd give
him away if nothing else did, unt he has got enough else. He likes to
have Jews about him, because he understands them better than he does
white people, unt259 particularly he is fond of Jew spies. He can trust
them where nobody else can. They'll be true to him because he is a Jew.
Put that man in the bull-pen, unt shoot him with the rest to-morrow
morning.' "'Heavens,' gasped the Adjutant-General; 'he is260 by far the
best man I ever had. I can't get along without him.'

"'You must get along without him,' said old Bragg. 'I'm astonished at
you having such a man around. Where in the world did you pick him up?
But it's just like you. How in God's name Jeff Davis expects me to
command an army with such makeshifts of staff officers as he sends me, I
don't know. He keeps the best for old Lee unt sends me what nobody
else'll have, unt then expects me to win battles against a better army
than the Army of the Potomac. I never got a staff officer that had
brains once.'

"A Sergeant of the Provost Guard, who was a natural beast, unt was kept
by old Bragg because he was glad to carry out orders to murder men,
caught hold of me by my shoulder unt run me down to the bull-pen,
leaving the Adjutant-General with forty expressions on his angry face.

"My goodness, my heart sunk worse than ever before when I heard the door
shut behind me. There were 30 or 40 others in the bull-pen. They were
all lying around\x97dull, stupid, sullen, silent, unt hopeless. They hardly
paid any attention to me. I sat down on a log, unt my heart seemed to
sink clear out of me. For the first time in my life I couldn't see the
slightest ray of hope. Through the cracks in the bull-pen I could see
the fresh graves of the men who had already been shot, unt while I
looked I saw a squad of niggers come out unt begin digging the graves of
those who were to be shot to-morrow. I could see rebel soldiers unt
officers passing by, stop unt look a moment at the graves, shrug
their261 shoulders, unt go on. It froze my blood to think that tomorrow
they would be looking at my grave that way. After a while a man came in
unt gave each one of us a piece of cornbread unt meat. The others ate
theirs greedily, but I could not touch it. Night came on, unt still I
sat there. Suddenly the door opened, unt the Adjutant-General came in
with a man about my size and dressed something like me. As he passed he
caught hold of my arm in a sort of way that made me understand to get up
unt follow behind him, I did so at once without saying a word. I walked
behind him around the bull-pen until we came back to the door, when the
guard presented arms, unt he walked out, with me still behind him,
leaving the other man inside. After we had gone a little way he stopped
unt whispered to me:

"'The General had to go off in a hurry toward War Trace this afternoon.
He took the Provost-Sergeant unt part of his staff with him, but I had
to be left behind to finish up this work. I can't get anybody else to do
it but you. I'm going to take you over to a cabin, where you'll be out
of sight. I want you to rush that work through as fast as the Lord'll
let you. After you get it done you can go where you damned please, so
long as you don't let the General set eyes on you. I've saved your life,
unt I'm going to trust to your honor to play fair with me. Help me out,
do your work right, unt then never let me see you again.'

"Of course, I played fair. I asked no questions, you bet, about the poor
devil he had put in my place. I worked all that night unt all the next
day getting his papers in the best possible shape, unt in making262
copies of them for General Rosecrans, which I stuck behind the chimney
in the cabin. Along in the morning I heard the drums beating as the men
were marched out to witness the execution. It made my heart thump a
little, but I kept on scratching away with my pen for hfe unt death.
Then the drums stopped beating for a while, unt then they begun again.
Then I heard a volley that made me shiver all over. Then the drums beat
as the men were marched back to their camps. If I had had time to think
I should have fainted. Towards evening I had got everything in first-
class shape. The Adjutant-General came in. He looked over the papers in
a very satisfied way, folded them up, checked off from a list a
memorandum of the papers he had given me to copy unt compile, unt saw
that I had given them all back to him. Then he looked me straight in the
eye unt said:

"'Now, Jew, there's no use of my saying anything to you. You heard that
volley this morning, unt understood it. Never let me or the General lay
eyes on you again. You have done your part all right, unt I mine. Good-
by.'

"He took his papers unt walked out of the cabin. As soon as he was gone
I snatched the copies that I had hidden behind the chimney, stuck them
here unt there in my clothes, unt started for the outer lines.

"I made my way to a house where I knew I'd find some men who had scouted
with me before. I knew they might be suspicious of me, but I could get
them to go along by pretending to have orders from Headquarters for a
scout. I got to the house by morning, found some of them there, gathered
up some more263 unt have been riding around all day, looking at the
Yankee lines, unt trying to find some way to get inside. I'm nearly dead
for sleep, but I must have these papers in General Rosecrans's hands
before I close my eyes."

"Your horse is all right, isn't he?" asked Shorty.

"Yes, I think so," answered Rosenbaum.

"Well, we have a good horse here. I'll mount him and go with you to
camp, leaving Si and the rest of the boys here. I can get back to them
by daylight."

So it was agreed upon.

Day was just breaking when Shorty came galloping back.

"Turn out, boys!" he shouted. "Pack up, and start back for camp as quick
as you kin. The whole army's on the move."

"What's happened, Shorty?" inquired Si, as they all roused themselves
and gathered around.

"Well," answered Shorty, rather swelling with the importance of that
which he had to communicate, "all I know is that we got into camp a
little after midnight, and went direct to Gen. Rosecrans's Headquarters.
Of course, the old man was up; I don't believe that old hook-nosed
duffer ever sleeps. He was awful glad to see Rosenbaum, and gave us both
great big horns o' whisky, which Rosenbaum certainly needed, if I
didn't, for he was dead tired, and almost flopped down after he handed
his papers to the General. But the General wanted him to stay awake, and
kept plying him with whisky whenever he would begin to sink, and, my
goodness, the questions he did put at that poor Jew.264

"I thought we knowed something o' the country out here around us, but,
Jerusalem, all that we know wouldn't make a primer to Rosecrans's Fifth
Reader. How were the bridges on this road? Where did that road lead to?
How deep was the water in this creek? How many rebels were out there?
Where was Bragg's cavalry? Where's his reserve artillery? And so on,
until I thought he'd run a seine through every water-hole in that Jew's
mind and dragged out the last minner in it. I never heard the sharpest
lawyer put a man through such a cross-examination.

"Rosenbaum was equal to everything asked him, but it seemed to me that
Gen. Rosecrans knowed a great deal more about what was inside the rebel
lines than Rosenbaum did. All this time they was goin' over the papers
that Rosenbaum brung, and Old Rosey seemed tickled to death to git 'em.
He told Rosenbaum he'd done the greatest day's work o' his life and made
his fortune.

"In the meantime the whole staff had waked up and gathered in the tents,
and while the General was pumpin' Rosenbaum he was sending orders to
this General and that General, and stirrin' things up from Dan to
Beersheba. Lord, you ought t've seen that army wake up. I wouldn't 've
missed it for a farm. Everything is on the move\x97right on the jump. We're
goin' for old Bragg for every cent we're worth, and we want to git back
to the regiment as quick as our leg'll carry us. Hustle around, now."

"But what'er we goin' to do with our prisoners?" asked Si.

"Blast the prisoners!" answered Shorty with profane emphasis. "Let 'em
go to blue blazes, for all265 that we care. We're after bigger game than
a handful o' measly pennyroyal sang-diggers. We hain't no time to fool
with polecats when we're huntin' bears. Go off and leave 'em here."

"That's all right," said Si, to whom an idea occurred. "Hustle around,
boys, but don't make no noise. We'll march off so quietly that they
won't know that we're gone, and it'll be lots o' fun thinking what
they'll do when they wake up and begin clapper-clawin' one another and
wonderin' what their fate'll be."

END BOOK THREE



SI KLEGG EXPERIENCES OF SI AND SHORTY ON THE GREAT TULLAHOMA CAMPAIGN.



By John McElroy



Book Four



Published By

The National Tribune Co.,

Washington, D. C.

Second Edition

Copyright 1910



THE SIX VOLUMES SI KLEGG, Book I, Transformation From a Raw Recruit SI
KLEGG, Book II, Through the Stone River Campaign SI KLEGG, Book III,
Meets Mr. Rosenbaum, the Spy SI KLEGG, Book IV, On The Great Tullahoma
Campaign SI KLEGG, Book V, Deacon's Adventures At Chattanooga SI KLEGG,
Book VI, Enter On The Atlanta Campaign



'don't Call Me Your Gran'pap.' 37


frontispiece (95K)



titlepage (45K)



CONTENTS


PREFACE

SI KLEGG

CHAPTER I. THE TULLAHOMA CAMPAIGN ON TO DUCK RIVER

CHAPTER II. THE BALKY MULES

CHAPTER III. THIRD DAY OF THE DELUGE

CHAPTER IV. THE FOURTH DAY OF THE TULLAHOMA CAMPAIGN

CHAPTER V. AFLOAT ON A LOG

CHAPTER VI. DISTRESSING ENEMIES

CHAPTER VII. THE EXCITING ADVANCE TULLAHOMA

CHAPTER VIII. THE GLORIOUS FOURTH INDEPENDENCE DAY FUN

CHAPTER IX. A LITTLE EPISODE OVER LOVE LETTERS

CHAPTER X. AFTER BRAGG AGAIN

CHAPTER XI. THE MOUNTAIN FOLK

CHAPTER XII. SI AND SHORTY IN LUCK

CHAPTER XIII. MANY HAPPY EVENTS

CHAPTER XIV. THE FRISKY YOUNGSTERS

CHAPTER XV. KEYED UP FOR ACTION

CHAPTER XVI. THE TERRIFIC STRUGGLE

CHAPTER XVII. IN THE HOSPITAL

CHAPTER XVIII.   A DISTURBING MESSAGE

CHAPTER XIX. TEDIOUS CONVALESCENCE

CHAPTER XX. STEWED CHICKEN



List of Illustrations

During the Halt for Dinner. 20

'Don't Call Me Your Gran'pap.' 35

Here Goes, Mebbe to Libbey Prison. 55

I'm All on Fire 77

Si and Shorty Were the First to Mount The Parapet. 91

The Bluff Worked 107

She Ran Like a Deer, But si Cut Her off 123

You Must'nt Kill a Wounded Man 143

"Father, There's a Couple of Soldiers out There." 159

The First Wad Came out Easily and All Right. 165

'Annabel, How Purty You Look.' 173

The Recruits Lined up on the Platform. 186

They Posted the Men Behind The Trees. 197

They Had a Delirious Remembrance of the Mad Whirl. 211

The Dead Being Collected After the Battle. 220

"Pap, is That You?" Said a Weak Voice. 238

"He Took Another Look at his Heavy Revolver." 254

"If You Don't Skip out O' Here This Minute I'll Bust Your Head As I
Would a Punkin." 264



PREFACE

"Si Klegg, of the 200th Ind., and Shorty, his Partner," were born years
ago in the brain of John McElroy, Editor of THE NATIONAL TRIBUNE.

These sketches are the original ones published in THE NATIONAL TRIBUNE,
revised and enlarged some what by the author. How true they are to
nature every veteran can abundantly testify from his own service.
Really, only the name of the regiment was invented. There is no doubt
that there were several men of the name of Josiah Klegg in the Union
Army, and who did valiant service for the Govern ment. They had
experiences akin to, if not identical with, those narrated here, and
substantially every man who faithfully and bravely carried a musket in
defense of the best Government on earth had some times, if not often,
experiences of which those of Si Klegg are a strong reminder.

THE PUBLISHERS.



THIS BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO THE RANK AND FILE OF THE GRANDEST
ARMY EVER MUSTERED FOR WAR.



SI KLEGG



CHAPTER I. THE TULLAHOMA CAMPAIGN ON TO DUCK RIVER "ONLY 25 MILES TO
SHELBYVILLE."

JUNE 23, 1863, ended the Army of the Cumberland's six months of
wearisome inaction around Murfreesboro its half-year of tiresome fort-
building, drilling, picketing and scouting.

Then its 60,000 eager, impatient men swept forward in combinations of
masterful strategy, and in a brief, wonderfully brilliant campaign of
nine days of drenching rain drove Bragg out of his strong fortifications
in the rugged hills of Duck River, and compelled him to seek refuge in
the fastnesses of the Cumberland Mountains, beyond the Tennessee River.

"Now," said Shorty, as they stood in line, waiting the order to move,
"as Old Rosy has clearly waked up to business, I hope to gracious that
Mr. Bragg will be found at home ready for callers. We've wasted six
months waiting for him to get good and ready, and he certainly ought to
be in trim to transact any little business we may have with him."

"I think you needn't trouble yourself about that, Shorty," said Capt.
McGillicuddy. "All the news is that Bragg is down there in Shelbyville
in force, and with blood in his eye. Somebody is going to be terribly
whipped before the end of the week, and I'm pretty sure it won't be the
Army of the Cumberland."

"Well, let's have it over and done with," said Si. "It's got to be
fought out some time, and the sooner the better. I wish the whole thing
could be fought to a finish to-morrow. Then I'd know at once whether I'm
to live through this war."

"I don't think you'll be kept long in suspense," replied Capt.
McGillicuddy. "Shelbyville is only 25 miles away. We can't go forward
many hours with out forcing a collision as to the right of way. If we
can whip Bragg behind the works he has been building for the last six
months, we'll settle the whole business for the Southern Confederacy in
the West. Grant will take Vicksburg, and then we'll have peace."

"Only 25 miles," repeated Shorty. "We ought to be squarely up against
them not later than to-morrow night and one or two days' lively pounding
ought to make Mr. Bragg holler enough."

"Rosenbaum is as certain as he is of his life," said Si to the Captain
and the rest, "that Bragg has the bulk of his army at Shelbyville,
which, as you say, is but 25 miles from here, and that he will draw the
rest in and fight us behind the awfully big forts that he has been
building for the last six months from Shelbyville to War Trace.
Rosenbaum says that he knows it for a fact that 3,000 negroes have been
worked on the forts ever since Bragg retreated there last January."

"Well, 25 miles isn't far to go for a fight," returned Shorty. "All that
I ask is that the 200th Ind. be given the advance. We'll make schedule
time to ward Shelbyville, and bring on the fight before early candle-
lightin' to-morrow evening."

"I guess you'll have your wish, Shorty," returned Capt. McGillicuddy.
"We lead the brigade to-day, anyway, and we'll try to keep the lead
clear through."

Then the rain poured down so violently that all the conversation was
suspended, except more or less profane interjections upon the luck of
the Army of the Cumberland in never failing to bring on a deluge when it
started to march.

In the midst of this the bugles sounded "For ward!" and the 200th Ind.
swung out on the Shelby ville Pike, and set its face sternly southward.
After it trailed the rest of the brigade, then the ambulances and
wagons, and then the rest of the division.

At times the rain was actually blinding, but the men plodded on doggedly
and silently. They had ex austed their epithets at the start, and now
settled down to stolid endurance.

"We've only got to go 25 miles, boys," Si would occasionally say, by way
of encouragement. "This rain can't last forever at this rate. It'll
probably clear up bright just as we reach Shelbyville to-morrow, and
give us sunshine to do our work in."

But when the column halted briefly at noon, for dinner for the men and
mules, it was raining harder and steadier than ever. It was difficult to
start fires with the soaked rails and chunks, all were wet to the skin,
and rivulets of water ran from them as they stood or walked. The horses
of the officers seemed shrunken and drawn-up, and the mud was getting
deeper every minute.

"Lucky we had the advance," said the optimistic Si. "We have churned the
roads into a mortar-bed, and them that comes after us will have hard
pullin'. I wonder how many miles we've made of them 25?"

"I feel that we've already gone full 25," said Shorty. "But Tennessee
miles's made o' injy-rubber, and stretch awfully."

They were too ill-humored to talk much, but stood around and sipped
their hot coffee and munched sodden crackers and fried pork in silence.
Pork fried in the morning in a half-canteen, and carried for hours in a
dripping haversack, which reduced the crackers to a tasteless mush, is
not an appetizing viand; but the hunger of hard exercise in the open air
makes it "go."

Again the bugles sounded "Forward," and they plodded on more stolidly
than ever.

Increasing evidences of the enemy's presence be gan to stimulate them.
Through the sheets of rain they saw a squad of rebel cavalry close to
them. There was much snapping of damp gun-caps on both sides, a few
unavailing shots were actually fired, and they caught glimpses between
the rain-gusts of the rebel horsemen galloping up the muddy road to ward
the rising hills.

They pushed forward with more spirit now. They came to insignificant
brooks which were now raging torrents, through which they waded waist
deep, first placing their treasured ammunition on their shoulders or
heads.

As they were crossing one of these, Si unluckily stepped into a deep
hole, which took him in over his head. His foot struck a stone, which
rolled, and down he went. Shorty saw him disappear, made a frantic
clutch for him, and went down himself. For a brief tumultuous instant
they bobbed around against the legs of the other boys, who went down
like tenpins. Nearly the whole of Co. Q was at once floundering in the
muddy torrent, with the Captain, who had succeeded in crossing, looking
back in dis may at the disaster. The Orderly-Sergeant and a few others
at the head of the company rushed in and pulled out by the collars such
of the boys as they could grab. Si and Shorty came to the bank a little
ways down, blowing and sputtering, and both very angry.

During the Halt for Dinner. 19

"All your infernal clumsiness," shouted Shorty. "You never will look
where you're goin'. No more sense than a blind hoss."

"Shut up," said Si, wrathfully. "Don't you talk about clumsiness. It was
them splay feet o' your'n that tripped me, and then you downed the rest
o' the boys. Every mite of our grub and ammunition's gone."

How far the quarrel would have gone cannot be told, for at that instant
a regiment of rebels, which had been pushed out in advance, tried to
open a fire upon the 200th Ind. from behind a rail fence at the bottom
of the hill. Only enough of their wet guns could be gotten off to
announce their presence. The Colonel of the 200th Ind. yelled:

"Companies left into line!"

The soggy men promptly swung around.

"Fix bayonets! Forward, double-quick!" shouted the Colonel.

It was a sorry "double-quick," through the pelting rain, the entangling
weeds and briars, and over the rushing streams which flooded the field,
but it was enough to discourage the rebels, who at once went back in a
heavy-footed run to the works on the hill, and the rebel cannon boomed
out to cover their retreat.

"Lie down!" shouted the Colonel, as they reached the fence, and a shell
struck a little in advance, filling the air with mud and moist fragments
of vegetation.

As they lay there and recovered their breath there was much splashing
and splattering of mud, much running to and fro, much galloping of Aids
in their rear. The 200th Ind. was ordered to hold its place, and be
ready for a charge upon the hill when it received orders. The brigade's
battery was rushed up to a hill in the rear, and opened a fire on the
rebel guns. The other regiments were deployed to the right and left to
outflank the rebel position.

Si and Shorty and the rest of Co. Q put in the time trying to get their
guns dry and borrowing ammunition from the men of the other companies.
Both were jobs of difficulty and doubtful success. There could be no
proper drying of guns in that incessant drench, and nobody wanted to
open up his stock of cartridges in such a rain.

In the intervals between the heavier showers glimpses could be had of
the "Kankakee Suckers" and the "Maumee Muskrats" working their way as
fast as they could around toward the rebel flanks. The rebel artillery,
seeing most danger from them, began throwing shells in their direction
as they could be caught sight of through the rain and the opening in the
trees.

"Why don't they order us forward with the bayonets?" fretted Si. "We can
scatter them. Their guns ain't in no better shape than ours. If they
hold us here, the Illinoy and Ohio fellers 'll git all the credit."

"The Colonel's orders are explicit," said the Adjutant, who happened to
be near, "not to move until the head of one of the other regiments can
be seen on the hills to the right or left. Then we're all to go forward
together."

"Yes," grumbled Shorty, "and we'll jest git there in time to see them
Illinoy Suckers hog everything. You kin see 'em limberin' up and
preparing to git. Just our dumbed luck."

It turned out just as Shorty had predicted. The rebel commander had kept
a wary eye on the other regiments, and as he saw them gain the point of
vantage in the open, where they could make a rush upon him, he ordered a
quick retreat. The other regiments raised a yell and charged straight
home. By the time the 200th Ind. could reach the gap the other regiments
were in full possession, and the rebels out of musket-shot in the valley
beyond.

"I told you so," snorted the irate Shorty. "Now we've lost the advance.
To-morrow we'll have to take them other fellers' mud, and pry their
teams out o' the holes."

"I wonder how many o' them 25 miles toward Shelbyville we've made to-
day?" asked Si.

"I heard the Adjutant say," said one of his comrades, "that we'd come
just six miles."

"Jewhillikins," said Shorty sorrowfully.

Thus ended the first day of the Tullahoma campaign.



CHAPTER II. THE BALKY MULES SUGGESTIONS GALORE "SHELBYVILLE ONLY 18
MILES AWAY."

NEVER was there so wild a storm but there was a wilder one; never such a
downpour of rain but there could be a greater deluge.

"Seemed to me yesterday," said Si, on the morning of June 25, as he
vainly tried to peer through the dashing drench and locate some of the
other regiments of the division, "that they was givin' us one of Noah's
Deluge days that they'd happened to have left over. Seemed that it
couldn't be no worse, but this beats it. I don't think that standin'
under Niagara Falls could be no worse. Howsomever, this can't last long.
There ain't water enough in the United States to keep this up a great
while."

"Don't be so sure o' that," said Shorty, handing Si the end of a
blanket, that he might help wring it out. "I believe the Lord sometimes
thinks that He didn't divide the land and water jest right in the first
place, and that He'd better 've made a big lake o' Tennessee instead o'
these old clay knobs for rebels and niggers to roost on, and He starts
in to carry out that idee. I wish He'd finish the job at once, and turn
the whole blasted region over to the navy. It looks as if He had that in
mind now."

"Well," said the ever-hopeful Si, "the Bible says that the rain falls on
the just and unjust alike. If it's tough on us, it's jest as tough on
them. Their guns wouldn't go off any better'n ours yesterday. If that
regiment in front of us could've shot like they can on a dry day they'd
've made a sick time for us."

About 60,000 Union soldiers and 45,000 rebels struggled through the
deluges of rain, the torrential streams and fathomless mud those June
days, when it seemed that every water-gate of the heavens was wide open
as it had never been before.

The calamity that Si and Shorty had foreseen came about. The 200th Ind.
lost the advance of the brigade and brought up the rear, which meant a
long day of muscle-straining, temper-wrecking struggles with stalling
wagons, discouraged mules and stupid teamsters. And as Co. Q was the
left of the regiment, it caught the worst of all.

The 200th Ind. had scarcely pulled out of camp when its troubles became
acute. At the foot of the hill which had been carried the day before ran
a brook, ordinarily quite a modest stream, but now raging like a mill-
race. The two other regiments of the brigade and all of the 200th Ind.
but Co. Q had managed to get across by means of trees which had been
felled over the stream at various places. Co. Q was left behind to see
that the teams got over, while the rest of the 200th Ind. was halted on
the farther bank, to watch the operation and give help if needed. Si,
with a squad in which was Shorty, was ordered to take the first team,
which it happened Groundhog drove, down into the stream and start it
across.

"Now, be very careful with that wagon," called the Adjutant across the
stream. "That has the Headquarters' things and papers. Don't let any
water get into the bed. Cross at the shallowest place."

Si and Shorty found some poles, and prodded around as well as they were
able in the crossing to find the shallowest place. If there was a part
so shallow that the bed could be kept above water it was very narrow,
and would require exceedingly skillful driving to keep on it. The whole
regiment stood around, like a barnyard full of turkeys on a wet day, and
looked on with an air of soppy melancholy.

"Groundhog," said Si, approaching that function ary, "was you watchin'
carefully while me and Shorty was pickin' out the shallow places?"

"Naw," answered he, insolently; "wasn't watchin' nothin' but my mules.
Got enough to do takin' keer o' them, without watchin' a couple o' fools
projeckin' around with poles in a mud-hole. No sense in it, nohow. We
never kin git acrost that 'ere tail-race. Only thing to do is to go back
into camp till it quits rainin' and the water runs out."

"Groundhog," said Si resolutely, "you're not goin' back to camp; you're
not goin' to wait till it stops rainin'. You're goin' right over now, as
sure as my name's Si Klegg, or I'll break every bone in your karkiss."

"I can't go over," persisted Groundhog. "I ain't no fool. I know better
what kin be done with an army wagon and six mules than any Injianny
galoot that ever wore stripes or shoulder-straps. You simply can't git a
wagon acrost that branch, and I ain't goin' to try."

"Groundhog," said Shorty, "you've bin itchin' to be killed for at least
a year, that I know of probably as long as you've lived. You ought've
had a stone tied to your neck and bin flung into the crick as soon's you
was born. I've promised myself a good many times that I'd about murder
you when ever I had time, but something's always made me neglect it. I'm
in the killin' mood to-day, and I'd like to begin on you. I certainly
will unless you drive that team straight acrost, and don't git a drop o'
water in the bed o' the wagon."

"Come, hurry up, over there," shouted the Adjutant. "We can't wait all
day. What's the matter with you? Get a move on you."

"All right, sir; we'll start at once, sir," said Si with ostentatious
alacrity.

Shorty slapped his bayonet on, and brought the point very near
Groundhog's abdomen. "I'll jab this thing clean through you in a holy
minute, you pusillanimous basswood cullin'; you pestiferous pile o'
pizen, rotten punk," he said savagely. "Git on your wheel-mule and
gether up the lines."

Impelled by this, and the vigorous clutch of Si upon his collar,
Groundhog climbed clumsily into the saddle and sullenly brandished his
whip.

The mules made a start and went down the bank, but at the edge of the
turbid torrent the leaders set their legs as stiffly as if they were the
supports of a sawhorse. They did not make a sound, but somehow the other
four understood, with electric suddenness, and their legs set like
posts.

"Jest as I expected," said Groundhog, with a grunt of satisfaction;
"they've balked for all day, an' you can't git 'em to move another foot
if you killed 'em. They're as solid as if they'd growed there."

With an air of having encountered the irresistible, he started to get
out of his saddle.

"Stay in there, confound you," said Shorty, prodding him with his
bayonet. "Lick them mules. Make 'em start."

"'Bout as much use in lickin' a white-oak stump," said Groundhog, plying
the whip viciously as a relief to his feelings. "You kin lick every inch
of skin off 'em, and they won't move no more'n a gravestone."

"Start those mules along. Stop fooling,' said the Adjutant impatiently.

"We can't start 'em. They're balkin', sir," said Si desperately.

"Nonsense, nonsense," said the Adjutant. "Come ahead. Don't you see
you're stopping the Second Brigade and all its teams?"

The men of the Second Brigade were already swarming across on the logs,
while looking backward Si and Shorty could see the road filling up with
teams. They ran down to the lead mules and caught them by the bridles
and tried to pull them ahead. They might as well have pulled at the
giant sycamore trees growing along the banks.

Everybody now began to take an interest in the affair. It is one of the
delightful peculiarities of human nature that everybody knows better how
to manage a balky horse or mule than the unfortunate man who is trying
to.

"Stop whippin' them mules. You only make them wuss," shouted one man
authoritatively. "Tie stones to their tails."

"Tie a string around their ears," shouted another. "That'll be sure to
start 'em."

"Bite their ears, you fools. Don't you know nothin' about mules? Bite
their ears, I tell you," shouted a man from Indianapolis.

"Throw some hot water on 'em."

"Tie their feet and tails together with a string."

"Build a fire under 'em."

"Turn the harness around the other way on 'em."

"Blindfold 'em."

Then the regimental humorists began to get in their work:

"Sing 'em the 'Battle Cry o' Freedom.'"

"They've struck for more grub. Promise 'em double rations till we get to
Shelbyville."

"Stop swearin', there, you fellers. You've frozen 'em stiff with your
bad language. Pray with 'em."

"Read them the Emancipation Proclamation."

"Call 'em pet names. You can do anything with kindness. Even a mule has,
a heart."

"Bring up the band and serenade 'em."

Shorty was raging around the team, kicking and striking first at one
mule and then at another, and swearing like a pirate, alternately at the
team and then at the jeering crowds. Si was following suit to the best
of his ability, but his pious education had left him out of sight of
Shorty when it came to using language that the occasion seemed to
justify. He had, however, yanked Groundhog out of the saddle and driven
him up the bank, where he sat down and grinned at the confusion which
had overtaken his enemies.

Setting a man at the head of each mule to coax and encourage him, and
the rest of the company to pushing and prying on the wagon, Si had
mounted the wheel-mule himself and put forth his mule-knowledge in one
feverish effort, which was as futile as it was desperate, for the mules
did not seem to change their positions for a rest, even, when the wagon
was forced forward on them.

A very dapper young Aid, fresh from West Point, and with that high
appreciation for himself that can only be acquired at the United States
Military Academy, galloped up, sternly ordering everybody to make way
for him, and,

"Present the compliments of the Major-General commanding the division,
and what the h\x97's the matter?"

"Capt. McGillicuddy, to whom the young gentle man had been referred as
in charge, said quietly:

"You see: A mule-team has balked and stopped everything. We're doing our
best to start them, but so far without success."

"So we all perceive," said the young man superciliously. "Why are you
not down there directing them?"

"The men that I have down there thoroughly understand mules, and are
doing their very utmost. They are having, as you can see, a superfluity
of advice which is not helping them. I can best help by letting them
alone to work it out their own way. They will do all that men can."

"I shall report the case to the General," said the Aid, with scarcely-
concealed insolence. "Just like these confounded volunteers," he said as
he turned away, taking no pains to keep the Captain from overhearing.
"Never will be genuine soldiers in the world. Here, my men," continued
he, riding over to the wagon, "stir yourselves lively, now, and start
these wagons along. I want no more fooling, and won't have it. Start,
now."

Shorty had the usual volunteer dislike to young West Pointers; like the
rest of the men he cordially hated and ridiculed the young and airy
staff officers, whether from West Point or not. It irritated him to see
the youngster's treatment of his Captain. Saying snappy things at and
about the Captain was a privilege jealously reserved to members of the
company. To have anybody outside abuse the Captain was an insult to be
resented. Above all, his American soul rose in wrath at the patronizing
"my men." He would not have been at all offended at one of his own
rough-and-ready officers jumping in and distributing curses on all
hands, but "my men" was too much for him.

Without appearing to notice the presence of the Aid, Shorty walked up to
the lead-mule, gave him a tremendous kick in the ribs, and sung out in a
tone loud enough to be heard across the roaring branch:

"You pernickety pile o' poll-evil; you hee-hawin' graduate o' West
Point; you pin-feathered, taller-faced, pop-eyed, lantern-jawed, loud-
mouthed Second Lieutenant, you, won't you git up?"

The other boys began to catch on and grin. The Aid's face flushed, but
Shorty continued his loud objurgations at the mule:

"You misbegotten pill o' perdition; you pompous, puddin'-headed staff
officer; you miserable errand-boy for the General, puttin' on more airs
than the General; you half-hatched officer, runnin' around yit with the
shell on your head, and pretendin' to be cock-o'-the-walk, won't you git
up?"

Even the Aid began to understand the drift of Shorty's remarks by this
time, and Capt. McGillicuddy called out warningly:

"Shorty! Shorty!"'

Si looked in amazement at this new development of his partner's genius.
The officers and men on the other side of the branch seemed to have
forgotten for the moment the annoyance of the balked team in enjoyment
of Shorty's outburst.

"Why under heaven they put such murrain cattle as you in the army I
can't tell," he continued with another savage kick in the mule's side.
"You only take up room from your betters. You don't fight, you only
strut like a turkey-cock, and eat and he-haw. Now, will you git up?"

The Aid could not fail to understand now. He burst out in a torrent of
rage: "You infernal scoundrel," he shouted, forcing his horse up to
Shorty; "I'll have you shot for insubordination, for insulting and
mutinous language to your superior officer."

"I wasn't sayin' nothin' to you," said Shorty, looking up with an air of
surprise. "I hain't had nothin' to do with you. I was cussin' this other
piebald pilgarlic from West Point; this other pig headed pickaninny o'
the Regular Army; this Brevet-Second Lieutenant o' the Quartermaster's
Department, and Aid on the staff o' Gen. Groundhog. You ain't my
superior officer, nohow."

"Corporal," shouted the Aid to Si, "take this rascal up there on the
bank and buck-and-gag him. Do it at once."

"I don't believe you have the right to give me orders, sir," said Si
respectfully. "I am under Capt. McGillicuddy's orders."

"You are right, Corporal," said Capt. McGillicuddy, stepping forward.
"Lieutenant, you cannot order one of my men to be punished. You have no
right to command here. You are merely to convey the General's orders to
those who are in command."

"I have the right to give orders. I represent the General, and speak in
his name, and I order that man to be bucked-and-gagged," reiterated the
Aid in a flame of anger. "I'll see that it is done. I shall not be so
insulted before the whole army. It will destroy all discipline."

"Fortunately, the discipline of the army does not depend on the respect
shown Second Lieutenants," Capt. McGillicuddy could not help saying. "If
you have any complaint to make against one of my men, state it to me,
their Captain, or to the Colonel of the regiment. We are the persons,
not you, to deal with them."

The men around understood; nothing pleased them better than to see a
bumptious young Aid sat down upon, and they were outspoken in their
delight.

"I shall report you to the General, and have you court-martialed," said
the Aid, shaking his fist at Capt. McGillicuddy. "I shall!"

"Mr. Farwell," said the Chief of Staff, riding up, "why haven't you
reported to the General as to the trouble here? We've been waiting for
you."

"Here," came the clear-cut tones of the Colonel across the branch; "no
use of wasting any more time on those mules. They're there to stay.
Unhitch them, fasten on a picket-rope, and we'll pull the wagon across
from this side."

Everybody sprang to execute this order, but Si and Shorty's hands had
not reached the traces when an idea seemed to shoot simultaneously
through each of the six mules, and with one impulse they plunged ahead,
directly into the swollen waters.

Si and Shorty sprang back toward their heads to guide them over the
narrow crossing. But the mules seemed to take the right course by
instinct, and landed the wagon safely on the other side, without a
particle of water entering the bed. Everybody cheered, and Si and Shorty
looked as if their minds had been relieved of a terrible load.

"Si," said Shorty, with a tinge of weariness in his tone, "they say it
is about 18 miles from here to Shelbyville."

"Somethin' like that," answered Si.

"I think there are about three o' these cricks to every mile. Do you
really suppose we'll be able to git there before our three years is up?"

"All depends on the mules," answered Si cheerily. "If this sudden spell
o' goodness holds out we may get there before evening."



CHAPTER III. THIRD DAY OF THE DELUGE TOILSOME PLODDING, AND "SHELBYVILLE
ONLY 15 MILES AWAY."

IT SEEMS impossible, but the third day's rain was even worse than that
of the two preceding. The drops seemed much larger, to follow each other
faster, and with less interval between the downpours.

"Does it always rain this way in June down here?" Si asked a patriarch,
who was sitting on his porch by the roadside in a split-bottomed
rocking-chair, resting his bony hands on a cane, the head of which was a
ram's horn, smoking a corn-cob pipe and watching the passing column with
lack-luster eyes.

"Sah," said the sage, poking down the ashes in his pipe with his little
finger, "I've done lived in the Duck River Valley ever sence Capting
Jimmy Madison wuz elected President the fust time, and I never seed sich
a wet spell as this afore. I reckon hit's all along o' the wah. We
allers have a powerful sight o' rain in wah times. Hit rained powerful
when Jinerul Jackson wuz foutin' the Injuns down at Hoss Shoe Bend, and
the Summers durin' the Mexican war wuz mouty wet, but they didn't hold a
candle to what we're havin' this yeah. Hit's the shootin' and bangin', I
reckon, that jostles the clouds so's they can't hold in."

"How far is it to Shelbyville, Gran'pap?" asked Shorty.

'don't Call Me Your Gran'pap.' 37

"Don't call me yer gran-pap," piped out the old man in angry falsetto,
and shaking his cane. "I won't stand hit. I won't stand everything. I've
had enough ter stand from you Yankees already. You've stole my chickens
an' robbed my smoke-house, an' run off my stock, an' I've done stood
hit, but I won't stan' bein' called gran'pap by ye. I've some mouty mean
grandsons, some that orter be in the penitentiary, but I hain't none
mean enough t' be in the Yankee army."

"We didn't mean no offense, sir," said Si placatingly. "We really don't
want you for a gran'father. We've got gran'fathers o' our own, and
they're very nice old men, that we wouldn't trade off for anything ever
raised in Tennessee. Have you anything to eat that you'll sell us? We'll
pay you for it."

"No, I haint got nothin' nary mite," quavered the old man. "Your men an'
our men have stole everything I have stock, cattle, sheep, hogs,
poultry, meat an' meal everything, except my bare land an' my hope o'
heaven. Thank God, none on ye kin steal them from me."

"Don't be too blamed sure about that, old feller," said Shorty. "Better
hide 'em. The Maumee Muskrats are jest behind us. They're the worst
thieves in the whole army. Don't let 'em know anything about your land
or your hope o' salvation, or they'll have it in their haversacks before
you kin wink."

"You haint told us yit how far it is to Shelbyville," said Si.

"Young man," said the sage oracularly, "that altogether depends.
Sometimes Shelbyville is mouty fur off, an' sometimes she is right here.
On bright, cl'ar days, when the roads is good, hit's only a few steps
over thar jest two sees an' a holler."

"What's that?" said Si. "Two sees an' a holler? How far is that?"

"He means," explained Shorty, "that you go as far as you kin see from
the highest hilltop to the next highest hill-top twice, and then it's
only about as much farther as your voice will reach."

"Jest so," asserted the patriarch. "I kin saddle my ole nag arter
dinner, rack over an' do some tradin', an' rack back agin in time for
supper. But 'when we have sich sorry weather as this, Shelbyville seems
on t' other side o' nowhar. You've got t' pull through the mud an' swim
every branch and crick, an' you're mouty lucky if you git thar in a
week."

"Why don't you build bridges over the creeks?" asked Si.

"Can't do hit when hit's rainin' an they're runnin' over thar banks."

"But why don't you do it when the weather's good?"

"What's the use? You kin git over all right then."

"Sir," said the Brigadier-General, riding up and addressing the old man,
"where does the Shakerag road come into the Bellbuckle road?"

Instantly the old man felt that he was being asked to give "aid and
information to the enemy," and his old eyes grew hard and his wrinkled
face set. "I don't know, sah."

"Yes, you do," said the Brigadier-General impatiently, "and I want you
to tell me."

"I don't know, sah," repeated the old man.

"Are there any works thrown up and any men out there on the Shakerag
road?" asked the Brigadier.

"I don't know, sah."

"Did a large body of rebels go past your house yesterday, and which road
did they take at the forks?" inquired the Brigadier.

"I don't know, sah."

The Brigadier-General was not in the best of humor, and he chafed
visibly at the old man's answers.

"Does not Goober Creek run down there about a mile in that direction?"
he again inquired, pointing with his field-glasses.

"I don't know, sah."

"How long have you lived here?" asked the Brigadier savagely.

"Nigh on to 55 year, sah."

"And you don't know where Goober Creek is, and which way it runs?" asked
the Brigadier, losing all patience.

"No, sah," responded the imperturbable old man.

"Well," said the Brigadier-General grimly, "it is high time that you
discovered that interesting stream. You might die without seeing it. Men
(to Si and Shorty) take him down that road about a mile, where you will
find a considerable body of water which I'm given to understand is
called Goober Creek. You'll show it to him in all its magnificence and
beauty. Geography is a very interesting study, old man, and it is not
too late for you to begin getting acquainted with your own country."

The bitter humor of taking a man through the mud and pouring rain to see
a creek that he had seen nearly every day of his life for a half-century
was such that all the men were in a mood to appreciate. Si and Shorty
entered into the affair with zest. They put a blanket on the old man's
shoulders, to shelter him from the rain. Such a thing as an umbrella had
never been in his house. Even the women would have looked upon it as a
piece of luxurious effeminacy.

The old fellow grumbled, expostulated, and protested, but if Si and
Shorty had had no other motive, orders direct from the Brigadier-General
would have been executed at any cost. It was the first time that they
had ever received orders from anybody higher than the Colonel, and the
effect upon them was extraordinary.

"What in the everlastin' kingdom," grumbled he, "kin your niggah-lovin'
Yankees expect t' gain by draggin' me out when hit's a-rainin' cats and
dogs?"

"Don't know nothin' about it," answered Si, catching him by the shoulder
to hurry him up. "'Tain't our business to know. We ain't paid for
knowin' anything more than orders, and hardly enough for that. A man
can't know much for $13 a month."

"'Twon't help yer niggeh-stealin' army a mite t' pi'nt out Goober Crick
t' me. I ain't gwine t' tote ye over nor show ye the fords."

"Don't care nothin' about that neither," replied Shorty, as they pushed
the old man along through the blinding 'rain. "Our orders is merely to
show you Goober Crick. 'Tain't none o' our business what the General
wants you to see it for. Mebbe he thinks it 'll improve your mind to
gaze on the beauties o' nature. Mebbe he thinks you need exercise. Mebbe
he thinks a shower-bath'd do you good."

The column had been checked by some difficulty in front, and as the boys
conveyed their charge through the ranks of waiting men it seemed that
everybody understood what they were doing, and volleys of sarcasm were
flung at their prisoner. There were inquiries as to how he liked the
study of geography as far as he had gotten; whether he would continue it
in more favorable weather, and whether this primary lesson would be
followed by others on the road to the mill, the path to the stable, and
the way to the spring. If the old man had not already been as angry as
he could be, his temper would have risen.

After a lot of toilsome plodding through the rain and mud which the
passing wagons had made fathomless, they came to the top of a high hill,
from which they could look down on a turbid sweep of yellow water, about
half a mile away, which filled nearly the whole valley.

The reason of delay was at once apparent. The insignificant stream had
suddenly become an almost impassable obstacle. Men were riding carefully
across the submerged bottom land, prodding with poles, to pick out
crossings. Others were digging down approaches to what seemed promising
crossings, and making rude bridges across gullies and smaller streams
that intervened.

It seemed that the fresh young Aid with whom the boys had the encounter
the day before had in some mysterious way gained charge of the advance.
He had graduated into the Engineer Corps from West Point, and here was
an opportunity to display his immense knowledge to the glory of himself
and the Engineers and the astonishment of those inferior persons who
were merely officers of cavalry, infantry and artillery. Now he would
show off the shrewd expedients and devices which have embellished the
history of military engineering since the days of Hannibal and Julius
Cesar.

That everybody might know who was doing all this, the Aid was riding
back and forward, loudly commanding parties engaged in various efforts
over more than a quarter of a mile of front. He had brought up the
pontoon-train, and the pontoniers were having a hard time trying to
advance the boats into the rushing waters. It was all that the men could
do to hold them against the swift current. If a pole slipped or went
down in a deep hole the men holding it would slip and probably fall
overboard, the boat would whirl around and drift far out of its place,
requiring great labor to bring it back again, and bringing down a
torrent of curses from the young Lieutenant on the clumsiness of "the
Stoughton bottles" who were pretending to be soldiers and pontoniers. He
was feeling that every word of this kind showed off his superior
knowledge to those around. Some of the men were standing waist-deep in
the water, trying to fasten lines to trees, to hold in place the boats
already stationed and being held there by arms straining at the poles.
Everywhere those engaged in the work were tumbling down in the water or
being carried off their feet by the current and rescued again with
difficulty, to be hauled out on the bank, exhausted, soaked to the skin
and covered with slimy mud.

For awhile this had seemed funny to the troops waiting to cross, and
they had yelled and laughed themselves hoarse at the mishaps of their
comrades. Now the fun had all evaporated and everybody was morose, with
a strong tendency to outbreaks of profanity.

The old man surveyed the scene with evident satisfaction. "Yo' Yankees
will git over thar about the middle o' July," he chuckled. "Now, I
reckon that's Goober Crick, an' as I have done seed hit you'll let me go
back home, I s'pose, won't ye?"

"That's probably Goober Crick, or at least Goober Crick is somewhere
under that muddy freshet," acquiesced Shorty. "But I'm not at all sure
that it's the crick. Looks more like a misplaced chunk out o' the
Mizzoori River. I'm not sure, either, that your eyes kin see that
distance. We'll have to walk you till we find a section of the crick
somewhere that kin be recognized by the naked eyes. Come along, and step
lively."

The old man groaned, but there was no hope for him from these relentless
executants of orders. For a half hour more they plodded on. The mud grew
deeper at every step, but the boys mercilessly forced the old man
through the worst of it, that they might reach some point where they
could actually see Goober Crick. He could not palm off on them any
common old mud freshet for a creek that had a regular place on the map.

Finally they came near the pontoons, and saw one almost capsize,
throwing everybody in it into the water, while another whirled madly
away toward the center of the current, with but one man in, who was
frantically trying to stop it and save himself.

"Yes, he'll stop it, much," said Shorty, looking after him. "If he gits
ashore before he reaches the Mississippi I'll be surprised. Say, Si,
it'll be easier lookin' for Goober Crick in a boat than wading through
the mud. Let's git in one o' them boats."

This terrified the old man till he was ready to yield.

"I begin t' know the place," he admitted. "If we take this path through
the woods t' the left hit'll bring us out whar yo' kin see Goober Crick
for sartin, an' no mistake. Hit's allers above high-water thar."

The boys followed. A very short walk through a curtain of deep woods
brought them on to much higher ground, where Goober Creek roared through
a narrow channel it had cut in the rocks. As they stood on the banks, Si
and Shorty's eyes met in a quick comprehension of the advantages of the
place. They looked backward through the woods to see a depression in the
hills, which promised a short and comparatively easy cut-off to the road
in the rear, where the 200th Ind. lay.

"Yes, this is Goober Crick," said the old man, with an air of recalling
an old acquaintance. "I'm sure of hit. Now, you'll let me go home, won't
yer? I hain't got a dry thread left on me, an' I know I'll jest fairly
die o' rheumatiz."

"Yes, you can go," said Shorty, who was filling his eyes with the lay of
the ground, and the chances it offered of getting the 200th Ind. across
ahead of the others and gaining the coveted head of the column. "I've no
doubt you're awful wet, but mebbe you know more'n you did a couple of
hours ago. Skip!"

The old man moved off with alacrity scarcely to be expected of him, and
the boys saw that it was wisest to follow him, for he was taking a bee-
line through the woods and brush for his home, and that they knew was
near where they had left their regiment.

Soon Co. Q, crouching under the cedars and ponchos spread over fence
corners, hovering around struggling fires, and sullenly making the best
of a very poor prospect, was electrified by Si and Shorty appearing on
as near a run as they could put up with their weight-soaked garments.

"Capt. McGillicuddy," gasped Si, "we've found a bully place to cross.
Tell the Colonel quick. Let the boys git all the axes and shovels they
kin, and come with us. We'll have a crossin' ready by the time the
Colonel comes up with the regiment, and we kin git the advance agin."

Si had gained that enviable position in the regiment where he could
always have plenty of followers to anything that he proposed. The sullen
despondency passed into active alertness as soon as he began speaking,
and before he was done some of them were rummaging around the wagons for
axes and shovels. Two or three of these implements were found in the old
man's yard.

"Go ahead," said the Captain. "I'll speak to the Colonel, and we'll
follow you with the regiment. You can get the teams across, too?"

"Certain," said Si, as he handed his gun, cartridge-box, haversack,
blanket-roll and overcoat to another boy to carry for him, shouldered
his ax and started off at a run, the others following.

They came back to the spot whither the old man had led them. Si's
experienced eye quickly selected two tall hickories, which could be
felled directly across the stream and form the stringers for his bridge.
The next instant the damp air was ringing with the strokes of eight as
skillful axmen as there were in the army, Si leading on one tree and
Shorty on the other. They could not keep up the feverish pace they had
set for many minutes, but the instant their blows relaxed eight other
men snatched the axes, and in a few minutes the trees toppled and fell
just in the right position. Co. Q was now coming up, followed by the
rest of the regiment, and they gave a cheer to echo the crash of the
falling trees. Instantly hundreds of men and officers were at work
clearing a road and completing the bridge. Some cut down other trees to
furnish filling for the approaches, or to split into flooring for the
bridge. Some dug down the bank and carried the clay to cover the brush
and chunks. In an incredibly short time a bridge was completed, over
which the regiment was marched, and the wagons pulled by the men, after
the mules had been detached and walked over.

Every fresh success was announced by tremendous cheering, which carried
information to the rest of the brigade that the 200th Ind. was doing
something unusual. News as to what this was at last reached the ears of
the Lieutenant of Engineers, who was continuing his struggle with the
pontoons with a persistence worthy of better luck.

He rode up just in time to see Capt. McGillicuddy looking with elation
at the passage of the last wagon.

"Why was I not informed as to what you were doing here, sir?" he asked
angrily.

"Probably because we were too busy doing it to be talking about it. If
you had known of it you would probably have tried to apply the 47th
problem of Euclid to the case, and we wouldn't 've got ten over for a
week. Eventually, sir, I expect you will find out that there are several
things in the world that are not learned at West Point. Having
accomplished all that we want with the bridge, I now have the pleasure
of turning it over to the Engineer Department, and I wish that you may
find it very useful," continued the Captain, as with a mocking smile and
salute he followed the last of the regiment across the creek.

"Adjutant," said Si, saluting that official with great respect, "we've
now got the advance agin, hain't we?"

"You're right we have, you bully boy with a glass eye," said the
Adjutant, slapping him on the shoulder with a familiarity that would
have given the young Engineer Lieutenant a spasm and caused a strong
report on the discipline of the 200th Ind. "And you can just bet we'll
keep it, too. You ought to see the Colonel's eye. We'll lead the
procession into Shelbyville, which is only 15 miles away."



CHAPTER IV. THE FOURTH DAY OF THE TULLAHOMA CAMPAIGN "SHELBYVILLE ONLY
10 MILES AWAY."

AND it rained the fourth day rained as if there had been months of
drouth, during which it had been saving up water and gathering its
energies for an astonishing, overwhelming, make-up-for-lost-time effort.

"Great goodness," said Si, as he and Shorty were again wringing their
blankets out to lighten the load they would start with; "seems to me
they're tryin' to move Lake Superior down here, and dumping the water by
train-loads."

"Old Rosey ought to set us to buildin' arks," grumbled Shorty. "We'll
need 'em as bad as Noah did."

There was an alleviation to the weather and mud in the good news that
came from all parts of the long front of 75 miles, on which the 60,000
men of the Army of the Cumberland were pressing forward against their
enemies in spite of the apparent league of the same with the powers of
the air against them. Away off on the extreme right Gen. Mitchel's
cavalry had driven the enemy from Triune, Eagleville, Rover, and
Unionville; Gordon Granger's and Crittenden's infantry were sweeping
forward through Salem, Christiana, and Bradyville; grand old Pap Thomas,
in his usual place in the center, had swept forward with his accustomed
exhibition of well-ordered, calmly-moving, resistless power, and pushed
the enemy out of his frowning strongholds at Hoover's Gap; McCook, whose
advance had that splendid leader, John F. Miller, had struck success
fully at Liberty Gap, and far to our left the dash ing Wilder had led
his "Lightning Brigade" against the enemy's right and turned it. The
higher officers were highly elated at the success of Gen. Rosecrans's
brilliant strategy in forcing the very formidable outer line of the
enemy without a repulse any where. Their keen satisfaction was
communicated to the rank and file, and aroused an enthusiasm that was
superior to the frightful weather. Every body was eager to push forward
and bring Bragg to decisive battle, no matter how strong his
laboriously-constructed works were.

"Old Rosey may be a little slow to start," Shorty held forth oracularly
to the group crouching over the fire, "but when he does start, great
Scott, but he's a goer. I'll put every cent I may have for the next 10
years on him, even though he's handicapped by a Noah's deluge for 40
days and 40 nights. And when it comes to playin' big checkers, with a
whole State for a board, and brigades and divisions for men, he kin
skunk old Bragg every time, without half tryin'. He's busted his front
row all to pieces, and is now goin' for his king-row. We'll have Bragg
before Grant gits Pemberton, and then switch around, take Lee in the
rear, capture Richmond, end the war, and march up Pennsylvania Avenue
before Old Abe, with the scalps o' the whole Southern Confederacy
hangin' at our belts."

"Wish to Heaven," sighed Si, "Old Rosey'd thought to bring along a lot
of Ohio River coal scows and Wabash canal-boats to make our campaign in.
What fun it'd be jest to float down to Shelbyville and fight those
fellers with 100 rough-and-ready gunboats. Then, I'd like awfully to
know once more what it feels like to have dry feet. Seems to me my feet
are swelling out like the bottom of a swamp-oak."

"Hope not, Si," said Shorty. "If they git any bigger there won't be room
enough for anybody else on the same road, and you'll have to march in
the rear o' the regiment. Tires me nearly to death now to walk around
'em."

"There goes the bugle. Fall in, Co. Q," shouted the Orderly-Sergeant.

As the 200th Ind. had the advance, and could leave the bothersome
problems of getting the wagons across the creeks to the unlucky regiment
in the rear, the men stepped off blithely through the swishing showers,
eager to find the enemy and emulate the achievements on previous days by
their comrades on other parts of the line.

Being as wet as they could be, they did not waste any time about
crossing streams. The field officers spread out and rode squarely at the
most promising crossings in sight. The men watched their progress, and
took the best they found. If the water did not get above the middle of
the sides of the Colonel's medium-sized horse, they took off their
haversacks and unbuckled their cartridge-boxes, and plunged in after
him, the shorter men pairing off with the taller men, and clinging to
them.

So eager was their advance that by the time they halted at noon for a
rest and a cup of coffee, they were miles ahead of the rest of the
brigade, and beginning to look forward to catching glimpses of
Shelbyville.

They had encountered no opposition except long-taw shots from rebel
cavalry watching them from the opposite sides of the yellow floods, and
who would scurry away as soon as they began to cross.

The young Aid again appeared upon the scene.

"Colonel," he said, saluting, "the General presents his compliments, and
directs that you advance to that next creek, and halt there for the
night and observe it."

"What did that young man remark?" said Shorty in an undertone; "that we
wuz to advance to that crick and observe it? What in the thunder have we
bin doin' for the past four days but observe cricks, an' cross the
nasty, wet things?"

"He means, Shorty," said Capt. McGillicuddy, "that we are to go as near
as we can to the bank, and watch, that the rebels do not come across,
and wait there until the rest of the division get in supporting
distance."

"I guessed that was what his West Point lingo meant, if he has brains
enough to mean anything. Why didn't he say in plain United States: 'Git
down to the edge o' that there crick, watch for a chance to jump the
rebels, and keep your eye peeled that the rebels don't jump you?' That'd
be plain Methodist-Episcopal, that everybody could under stand.".

"I'll see that you are appointed Professor of Military Language and
Orders at West Point when you are discharged," said the Captain,
laughing.

The regiment advanced to the edge of the swollen flood and made
themselves as comfortable as possible under shelters improvised from
rails, cedar boughs, pieces of driftwood, etc. A considerable force of
rebels appeared on the opposite bank, whose business seemed to be to
"observe" the Yankees.

The restless Si and Shorty started out on a private reconnoissance. They
discovered that the shore opposite the left of the regiment was really
an island, separated by some hundreds of yards of rushing water from
them, but the main current ran on the other side of the island.

"We can't observe the crick through that mass o' willers and
cottonwoods," said Shorty. "That's certain. No tellin' what devilment
the rebels are up to on the bank over there. They may be gittin' up a
flank movement over there, with pontoons and flatboats, to bust the
whole army wide open."

"That's so," assented Si. "The orders are to observe this crick, and we
can't do it if we can't see the other bank. We ought to git over to that
island."

They went back and reported to Capt. McGillicuddy, and told him what
they thought. He at once agreed with them, and sanctioned their proposal
to go over to the island, if they could find means of crossing.

After a diligent search they came across an old canoe hollowed out of a
tulip-tree log. It was a cranky affair, and likely to turn over if their
hair was not parted exactly in the middle; but both of the boys were
used to canoe management, and they decided to risk the thing.

It was ticklish business crossing the current, but they succeeded in
reaching the island, which extended a foot or more above the level of
the flood, and was covered with a thicket of willows and cottonwoods
about the size of hoe-handles. They pushed their way through these and
came in sight of the opposite banks. There was apparently some thing
important going on over there. Quite a number of rebels could be seen
moving about through the rain and mud, there was great deal of chopping
going on, several flatboats, canoes and rafts were lying at the bank,
wagons were passing, and the boys thought they could make out a cannon
or two.

"I can't make out what in the world they're up to," said Si. "But I'm
certain the Colonel ought to know it. Suppose you take the canoe,
Shorty, and paddle over and report, and I'll stay here and watch."

"All right," answered Shorty, starting back for the canoe.

He reported to Capt. McGillicuddy, who took him up to the Colonel.

"It don't seem possible that they can be doing anything to threaten us,"
said the Colonel; "though they may know of some practicable crossing
higher up the stream, which will let them in on our flank. Still, they
ought to be watched. I'll inform the General at once. You had better
station a picket on the island, Captain, if you can do so safely."

"Me and my pardner 'll look out for them, Colonel, if you think
necessary," said Shorty, proud to be of service under the Colonel's
direction.

"Very good," said the Colonel briefly. "I'll entrust the lookout to you
boys. Let me know at once if anything important develops."

The young Aid had been standing nigh during this conversation.

"Your men, Colonel," he said patronizingly, "are excellent soldiers, in
their way, but they lack the intelligence necessary to comprehend the
movements of the enemy on the opposite bank. I think I shall go over
there myself, take a personal observation, and determine precisely what
the meaning of the movements may be."

"As you like," said the Colonel stiffly. "As for myself, I don't think
it is necessary for me to go. I'd trust those boys' eyes as quick as I
would my own. They are as good soldiers as ever breathed; they are as
keen as a brier, with not a particle of nonsense about them. They are as
truthful as the day. When they tell me anything that they have seen with
their own eyes I can trust it as absolutely as if I had seen it myself;
and their judgment can not be beat."

"No enlisted man can possibly see anything so well as an officer who has
been educated," said the Aid.

"That is a matter of opinion," said the Colonel dryly.

"Anyway, I'm going over to see for myself," said the Aid. And he called
after Shorty:

"Here, my man, I'm going along with you."

Shorty muttered some very warm words under his breath, but discipline
asserted itself, and he answered respectfully:

"Very good, sir."

He halted until the Aid came alongside, and then started to walk beside
him as he would have done with one of his own officers when out alone
with him.

"Fall two paces behind," commanded the Aid sternly

Shorty said to himself some very hotly-disparaging things about
pretentious young snips of Regular officers. They reached the canoe, and
the Lieutenant calmly seated himself in the stern. This was another
aggravation. If Shorty had gone out with one of his own officers, even
the Colonel, he would have shown a deep interest in everything and
wanted to do his share toward getting the canoe safely over. This young
fellow calmly seated himself, and threw all the responsibility and work
on Shorty.

"Now, you set right in the center, there," said Shorty, as he picked up
the paddle and loosened the rope, "and keep mighty still."

"My man," said the Lieutenant, frowning, "when I want your advice I'll
ask it. It is for me to give you directions, not you me. You paddle out,
now, and head straight for that island. Paddle briskly, and get me over
there as quick as possible."

Shorty was tempted to tip the canoe over then and there, but he
restrained himself, and bent his strong arms to the hard task of
propelling the canoe across the strong current, avoiding the driftwood,
maintaining his balance, and keeping the bow pointed toward the place
where he wanted to land.

The Lieutenant had sense enough to sit very still, and as he naturally
had been drilled into bolt-up-rightness, Shorty had little trouble with
him until they were nearing the shore. Then the canoe ran into a swirl
which threw its bow around. Forgetting his dignified pose, the
Lieutenant made a grab for some overhanging willows.

"Let them alone, blast you; I'll bring her around all right," Shorty
started to yell, but too late. Before the words were out of his mouth
the cranky canoe went over. Shorty with the quickness of a cat jumped
clear, caught some branches with one hand, and made a grab for the canoe
with the other. But he saw the Lieutenant go down head foremost, with
fancy boots disappearing last. He let the canoe go, to make a grab for
the boots. He missed them, but presently the Lieutenant's head appeared,
and he gasped and sputtered:

"Save me, my good man. I can't swim a stroke."

Shorty plunged out, succeeded in catching the Lieutenant by the collar,
and after a vicious struggle with the current, grabbed with his right
hand a pole that Si thrust out to him, while with his left he dragged
the Lieutenant ashore, "wetter'n a blamed drowned West Point muskrat,"
as he after ward expressed it.

"My good man, you saved my life, and I thank you for it," said the
Lieutenant when he recovered his breath. "I shall mention you in my
report."

"If you don't stop calling me your 'good man' I'll chuck you into the
drink again, you wasp-waisted, stiff-backed, half-baked West Point
brevet Second Lieutenant," said Shorty wrathfully. "If you'd had the
sense of a six-months'-old goslin' you'd 'a' set still, as I told you,
and let me manage that canoe. But you never kin learn a West Pointer
nothin'. He'd try to give God Almighty points if he got a chance. Now
we've lost our canoe, and we're in a devil of a fix. I feel like
throwin' you back in the crick."

"Take care, my good" and then the Lieutenant caught the glare of
Shorty's eye. "Take care, sir. You're on the verge of mutiny. I may have
you court-martialed and shot, if you're not careful."

"Court-martial and be blamed," said Si, who was as angry as Shorty.
"You've lost our canoe, and we may be drowned before we can git off this
island. It's got so dark they can't see us from the shore, the water's
steadily rising, these trees are too small to climb, and the Lord knows
how we're goin' to git off."

"Corporal, I'll see that you're reduced to the ranks for disrespect to
me. I had intended to recommend this man for promotion on account of his
great service to the army in saving my life. Now I shall see that you
are both punished for insubordination."

"Insubordination be damned, and you with it," said Shorty. "You'd better
be thinking how we're to git off this island. The water's bin raisin'
about a foot a minute. I've bin watchin' while we wuz talkin'."

The Lieutenant stood, dazed, while the boys were canvassing plans for
saving themselves.

"I'll tell you, Shorty," said Si suddenly. "Le's ketch one o' them big
saw-logs that's comin' down, straddle it, and let it carry us somewhere.
It may take us into our own lines. Anything's better than drowndin'.
Here comes one in the eddy now."

Shorty caught the log with a long pole, and dexterously steered it up
close to the shore in comparatively still water. Si threw a grapevine
over it and held it.

"Now, all git on," said Shorty. "Be careful not to push it away."

"Let me get on ahead," said the Lieutenant, still mindful of his rank,
"and you two get on behind, the Corporal next to me."

"Not much, Mary Ann," jeered Shorty. "We want a man of sense ahead, to
steer. I'll git on first, then you, and then Si, to bring up the rear
and manage the hind end of the log."

The Lieutenant had to comply. They all got safely on, and Shorty pushed
off, saying:

"Here, sit straight, both of you. Here goes mebbe for New Orleans, mebbe
for Libby Prison, mebbe for the camp of the 200th Ind.

"We're out on the ocean sailin'."

Here Goes, Mebbe to Libbey Prison. 55



CHAPTER V. AFLOAT ON A LOG SI, SHORTY AND THE WEST-POINTER HAVE AN
EVENTFUL JOURNEY.

THE log swept out into the yellow swirl, bobbing up and down in the
turbulent current.

"Bobs like a buckin' broncho," said Shorty. "Make you seasick, Si?"

"Not yet," answered his partner. "I ain't so much afraid o' that as I am
that some big alligator-gar 'll come along and take his dinner off my
leg."

"Bah," said Shorty, contemptuously; "no alligator-gar is goin' to come
up into this mud-freshet. He'd ruther hunt dogs and nigger-babies
further down the river. Likes 'em better. He ain't goin' to gnaw at them
old Wabash sycamore legs o' yourn when he kin git a bite at them fat
shoats we saw sailin' down stream awhile ago."

"The belief in alligator-gar is a vulgar and absurd superstition," said
the Lieutenant, breaking silence for the first time. "There, isn't
anywhere in fresh water a fish capable of eating anything bigger than a
bull-frog."

"Hullo; did West Point learn you that?" said Shorty. "You know just
about as much about it as you do about gittin' over cricks an' paddlin'
a canoe. Have you ever bin interduced to a Mississippi catfish? Have you
ever seen an alligator-gar at home in the Lower Mississippi? Naw! You
don't know no more about them than a baby does about a catamount. I have
heard tell of an alligator-gar that was longer'n a fence-rail, and sort
of king of a little bayou down in the Teche country. He got mad because
they run a little stern-wheel steamboat up into his alley to git their
cotton off, an' he made up his mind to stop it. He'd circle 'round the
boat to git a good headway and pick out his man. Then he'd take a run-
and-jump, leap clean across the boat, knock off the man he'd picked out,
an' tow him off under a log an' eat him. He intended to take the Captain
fust, but his appetite got the better of him. He saw a big, fat, juicy
buck nigger of a deck-hand, an' couldn't stand the temptation. He
fetched him easy. Next he took a nice, tender little cabin-boy. Then he
fetched the big old Mate, but found him so full o' terbacker, whisky and
bad language that he couldn't eat him nohow, an' turned him over to the
mudturtles, what'll eat anything. The Captain then got scared an' quit.
He didn't care a hat for the Mate, for he was glad to git rid of him;
but he liked the cabin-boy an' he had to pay the owner o' the nigger
$1,200 for him, an' that made runnin' up the Teche onprofitable."

"Oh, Shorty," Si gasped. He thought he was acquainted with his partner's
brilliant talents for romance, but this was a meteoric flight that he
had not expected.

"But that wasn't nothin'," Shorty continued, "to a he catfish that a man
told me about down near Helena, Ark. He used to swim around in a little
chute near a house-cabin in which lived a man with a mighty good-lookin'
young wife. The man was awful jealous of his woman, an' used to beat
her. The ole he catfish had a fine eye for purty women, and used to
cavort around near the cabin whenever his business would permit. The
woman noticed him, and it tickled him greatly. She'd throw him hunks o'
bread, chunks o' cold meat, and so on. The man'd come out and slap her,
and fling clubs and knots at him. One day the man put his wife in a
basswood canoe, and started to take her across the river. He hadn't got
a rod from the shore when the old he catfish ups and bites the canoe in
two, then nips the man's hand so's he didn't git over it for months, and
then puts his nose under the woman's arm, and helps her ashore as polite
as you please."

"Shorty," gasped Si, "if you tell any more such stories as that this
log'll certainly sink. See it how it wobbles now."

"I consider such stuff very discourteous to your officer," said the
Lieutenant stiffly. "I shall make a note of it for consideration at some
future time."

"Halt! Who goes thar?" rang out sharply from the bank.

"Hush; don't breathe," said Shorty. They were in an eddy, which was
sweeping them close to the rebel bank.

"Who air yo' haltin'?" said a second voice.

"I see some men in a canoe out thar. I heared their voices fust," said
the first voice.

"Whar' yo see any men in a canoe?" asked the second incredulously.

"Right over thar. You kin see 'em. They're comin' right this-a-way. I'm
a gwine t' halt 'em agin an' then shoot."

"Stuff," said the other. "You're allers seein' shadders an' ghostses.
That 'er's only an ole tree with three limbs stickin' up. Don't yo'
shoot an' skeer the whole camp. They'll have the grand laugh on yo', an'
mebbe buck-an'-gag yo'."

"'Tain't stuff," persisted the other. "Thar never wuz a tree that ever
growed that had three as big limbs as that all on one side. You're moon
blind."

"A man mout well be rain blind in sich a storm as this, but I tell yo'
that's nothin' but an ole sycamore drift log. If yo' shoot the boys'll
never git tired o' damnin' yo', an' jest as likely as not the
ossifers'll make yo' tote a rail through the mud termorrer."

The boys were so near that every word could be distinctly heard, and
they were floating nearer every moment.

The suspense was thrilling. If the man fired at that distance he could
not help hitting one of them and discovering the others. They scarcely
breathed, and certainly did not move a muscle, as the log floated
steadily in-shore in the comparatively stiller waters of the eddy. The
rain was coming down persistently yet, but with a sullen quietness, so
that the silence was not broken by the splashing of the drops.

A water-moccasin deadliest of snakes crawled up onto the log and coiled
himself in front of Si, with that indifference to companionship which
seems to possess all animals in flood-times. Si shuddered as he saw it,
but did not dare make a motion against it.

The dialog on the bank continued.

"Thar, you kin see thar air men in a canoe," said the first voice.

"I can't see nothin' o' the kind," replied the other.

"If hit ain't a log with three dead limbs, hit's a piece o' barn-timber
with the j'ists a-stickin' up."

"I don't believe hit nary mite. Hit's men, an' I'm a-gwine t' shoot."

"No, yo' hain't gwine t' make a durned fool o' yourself. Wait a minute.
Hit's a-comin' nigher, an' soon you kin hit it with a rock. I'll jest do
hit t' show yo how skeery yo' air. Le'me look around an' find a good
rock t' throw. If I kin find jest the right kind I kin hit a
yallerhammer at that distance."

This prospect was hardly more reassuring than that of being fired at,
but there was nothing to do but to take whatever might come. To make it
more aggravating, the current had slowed down, until the motion of their
log was very languid. They were about 100 feet from the shore when they
heard the second voice say:

"Heah, I've got jest the right kind o' a dornick. Now jest keep yer eye
peeled an' fixed on that center limb, an' yo'll hear it chunk when I
plunk hit an' show hit's nothin' but a stick o' wood."

Si thought he saw the Lieutenant crouch a little, but was not sure.

The stone came whistling through the air, struck the top of the
Lieutenant's cap and knocked it off into the water.

"Thar," said the second voice triumphantly; "yo' see hit ain't no men.
Jest as I done tole yo'. I knocked the bark offen the end o' one o' the
sticks."

The log moved slowly on, and presently catching in a stronger current,
swept out into the stream again. It seemed so like deliverance, that Si
made a quick blow and knocked the snake off into the water, and Shorty
could not help shouting triumphantly:

"Good-by, Johnnies! Sorry we can't stay with you longer. Got other
engagements down the crick. Ta-ta! See you later."

The chagrined sentry fired an angry shot, but they were already behind a
clump of willows.

"Lootenant," said Shorty, "you put on a whole lot of unnecessary frills,
but you've got good stuff in you after all. You went through that little
affair like a man. I'll back you after this."

"When I desire your opinion, sir, as to my conduct," replied the
Lieutenant, "I shall ask you for it. Until then keep it to yourself. It
is for me to speak of your conduct, not you of mine."

But again they "had hollered before they were out o' the woods," as
Shorty afterward expressed it. The gunfire and the sound of their voices
so near shore had stirred up the rebels. A canoe with three men in it
had pushed out, and, struggling with the current, had made its way
toward them, guided by their own voices. The top of a floating tree had
hidden it from their sight until it suddenly came around the mass of
leafage, and a man standing up in the bow leveling a revolver at them
ordered instant surrender. The other two men were sitting in the middle
and stern with paddles, and having all they could do to maintain the
course of the canoe.

Si and Shorty were so startled that for an instant they made no response
to the demand. The Lieutenant was the first to speak:

"Are you a commissioned officer?" he inquired.

"No," was the answer.

"Then I refuse to surrender. I'll surrender to no one inferior to me in
rank."

"Sorry we'uns can't obleege yo', nohow," said the man with the revolver,
in a sneer; "but we'uns'll have t' be good enough commissioned ossifers
for yo' jist now, an' yo'll have t' done hold up yo'uns hands. We'uns
hain't no time t' send ashore for a Lootenant."

The other two chuckled as they struggled with the current, and forced
the canoe up close to the log. Shorty made a motion as if throwing up
his hands, and called out in a submissive way:

"Here, le'me git hold o' the bow, and I kin help you. It's awful hard
paddlin' in this current."

Without thinking the men threw the bow in so close that Shorty could
clutch it with his long hand. The grab shook the ticklish craft, so that
the man with the revolver could scarcely keep his feet.

"Heah," he yelled at the other two. "Keep the dugout stiddy. What air
yo'uns doin'? Hold her off, I tell yo'uns."

Then to the Lieutenant:

"Heah, yo'uns surrender to wonst, or I'll blow yo' heads offen yo'uns."

The Lieutenant started a further remonstrance, but Shorty had in the
meantime got the other hand on the canoe, and he gave it such a wrench
that the man with the pistol lost his footing and fell across the log,
where he was grabbed by Shorty and his pistol-hand secured. The stern of
the canoe had swung around until Si had been able to catch it with one
hand, while with the other he grabbed the man in the stern, who, seeing
the sudden assumption of hostilities, had raised his paddle to strike.

Si and Shorty had somewhat the advantage in position. By holding on to
the log with their legs they had a comparatively firm, base, while the
canoe was a very ticklish foundation for a fight.

The middle man also raised his paddle to strike, but the Lieutenant
caught it and tried to wrest it away. This held the canoe and the log
close together while Si and Shorty were struggling. Si saw this, and
letting go, devoted both hands to this man, whom he pulled over into the
water about the same time that Shorty possessed himself of the other
man's pistol and dragged him out of the canoe.

"Hold fast in the center there, Lieutenant," he called out, as he
dropped the pistol into his bosom and took in the situation with a quick
glance. "You two Johnnies hold on to the log like grim death to a dead
nigger, and you won't drown."

He carefully worked himself from the log into the canoe, and then Si did
the same. They had come to a part where the water spread out in a broad
and tolerably calm lake over the valley, but there was a gorge at the
further end through which it was rushing with a roar. Log and canoe were
drifting in that direction, and while the changes were being made the
canoe drifted away from the log.

"Hold on, men," shouted the Lieutenant; "you are certainly not going to
abandon your officer?"

"Certainly not," said Shorty. "How could you imagine such a thing? But
just how to trade you off for this rebel passenger presents
difficulties. If we try to throw him overboard we shall certainly tip
the canoe over. And I'm afraid he's not the man to give up peaceably a
dry seat in the canoe for your berth on the log."

"I order you to come back here at once and take me in that boat," said
the Lieutenant imperatively.

"We are comin' back all right," said Shorty; "but we're not goin' to let
you tip this canoe over for 40 Second Lieutenants. We'll git you out o'
the scrape somehow. Don't fret."

"Hello, thar! Help! Help!" came across the waters in agonized tones,
which at the same time had some thing familiar in them.

"Hello, yourself!" responded Shorty, making out, a little distance away,
a "jo-boat," that is, a rude, clumsy square-bottomed, square-ended sort
of a skiff in which was one man. "What's wanted?"

"I'm out here adrift without no oars," came in the now-distinctly
recognizable voice of Jeff Hackberry. "Won't yo' please tow me ashore?"

"Le's go out there and git him," said Shorty to Si. "We kin put all
these fellers in that jo-boat and save 'em."

A few strokes of their paddles brought them alongside.

"How in the world did you come here, Hackberry," asked Shorty.

"O, that ole woman that I wanted so bad that I couldn't rest till I got
her wuz red-hot t' git rid o' me," whined Hackberry. "She tried half-a-
dozen ways puttin' wild parsnip in my likker, giving me pokeberry
bitters, and so on, but nothin' fetched me. Finally she deviled me to
carry her acrost the crick to the Confederit lines. I found this ole jo-
boat at last, an' we got in. Suddenly, quick as lightning she picked up
the oars, an' give the boat a kick which sent hit away out into the
current. I floated away, yellin' at her, an' she standin' on the bank
grinnin' at me and cussin'. I've been havin' the awfulest day floatin'
down the freshet, expectin' every minute t' be drowned, an' both sides
pluggin' away at me whenever they ketched sight o' me. I wuz willin' t'
surrender t' either one that'd save me from being drownded, but none of
'em seemed t' care a durn about my drowndin'; they only wanted t' plug
me."

"Please save me, Mister," begged Jeff, "an' I'll do anything under the
shinin' sun for yo'; I'll jine the Yankee army; I'll lead you' to whar
thar's nests o' the pizenest bushwhackers. I'll do anything yo' kin ax
me. Only save me from being drownded. Right down thar's the big falls,
an' if I go over them, nothin' kin same me from drowndin'." And he began
a doleful blubbering.

"On general principles, I think that'd be the best thing that could
happen," remarked Shorty. "But I haven't time to discuss that now. Will
you do just what we want, if we save your life?"

"Yes; yes," responded he eagerly.

"Well, if you don't, at the very minute I tell you, I'll plug you for
certain with this," said Shorty, showing the revolver. "Mind, I'll not
speak twice. I'll give you no warnin'. You do what I tell you on the
jump, or I'll be worse to you than Mrs. Bolster. First place, take this
man in with you. And you (to the rebel in the canoe) mind how you git
into that boat. Don't you dare, on your life, kick the canoe over as you
crawl out. If I find it rocks the least bit as you leave I'll bust your
cocoanut as the last act of my military career. Now crawl out."

The rebel crawled over the gunwale into the boat as cautiously as if
there were torpedoes under him.

"Now," said Shorty, with a sigh of relief, as the man was at last out of
the canoe, "we'll paddle around here and pick up some pieces of boards
for you to use as oars. Then you bring the boat over to that log."

This was done, and the Lieutenant and the two rebels clinging to the log
were transferred to the jo-boat. The moment the Lieutenant felt himself
in the comparative security of the jo-boat his desire for command
asserted itself.

"Now, men," said he, authoritatively, "pull away for the other side,
pointing up stream. That glow over there is our campfires. Make for it."

"All right, Lootenant," said Shorty. "You command that boat. You've got
your revolver with you, and kin make 'em mind. We'll pick up some more
boards, so as to have oars for all o' 'em. They'd better use 'em lively,
for it ain't a great ways t' the suck. If you git into that you'll go to
Davy Jones's as sure as the Lord made little apples. Paddle, now, if you
value your lives. Me and Si are goin' back to look for that galoot that
shot at us. We want to make a present of him to our Colonel, who's after
information from the other side. We want his gun and another one to make
up for the two that we had to leave on the island. We'll join you before
you git acrost."

The Lieutenant lifted up his voice in remonstrance against the desperate
undertaking, but Si and Shorty paddled swiftly away, leaving him and his
squad to struggle over the muddy lake in their clumsy bateau.

Though the boys were sadly worn by the day's exciting adventures, yet
they were animated by the hope of doing something that would signally
retrieve their earlier misfortunes. Both were adepts at canoe
navigation, the canoe was light and easily managed with but two in it,
and they had gotten the lay of the shore so well in mind that they felt
sure that they could slip around and come in on the man who had fired
upon them. The drizzle of the rain helped curtain them; they pushed the
canoe through the top of a paw-paw thicket that rose but a little way
above the flood, Shorty sprang out, and in a few steps came up behind
the two pickets, who were crouching over a little fire they had built
behind the cover of some dense weeds.

"Was this the post that fired on men in a canoe a little while ago?" he
asked, as if a rebel officer out on a tour of investigation.

"Yes," the men stammered, as soon as they could recover from the startle
of his sudden appearance.

"Which man fired?" asked Shorty.

"Me," answered one.

"Well, I want you and both your guns," said Shorty, thrusting his
revolver against the man's face. "Pick up them guns and go right ahead
there."

The man meekly did as bid, and in a few minutes was landed into the
canoe, into which Shorty jumped and pushed off. When nearly across they
came upon the jo-boat, with the Lieutenant standing erect with drawn
revolver, while the men were laboring hard to propel it to shore. The
boys fastened its painter to the stern of the canoe and helped by
towing.

They headed for a large fire burning brightly on the bank, indicating
that it was the headquarters of the pickets. In response to the sharp
challenge, the Lieutenant responded:

"Friends, without the countersign."

Quite a number of officers and men thronged to the water's edge to see
what could be coming from that unexpected quarter. The Lieutenant
ordered the boys to fall to the rear with their canoe, that he might be
the first to land, and as his bateau labored close to the shore he
recognized the Colonel in command of the picket line, and said in a loud
voice:

"Sir, I have the honor to report that I have been across the creek
reconnoitering the enemy's lines. I have with me five prisoners four
soldiers and one guerrilla."



CHAPTER VI. DISTRESSING ENEMIES OTHER THAN THE REBELS AND RAIN, MUD, AND
SWOLLEN STREAMS.

SI WOKE up early the next morning with a savage exclamation.

"I declare, I'm all on fire," he said. "Some thing's just eating me up.
I believe I've got a million graybacks on me."

I'm All on Fire 77

"Same here, Si," said Shorty. "Never knowed 'em to be so bad. Seem to
've just got in from a march, and are chawin' three days' rations out o'
me every minute. I'd 'a' thought they'd all 've bin drowned from the
duckin' they've bin havin' for the past five days, but it only seems to
've sharpened their teeth and whetted their appetites. They've all come
to dinner, and invited their friends."

"Where in the world could they have all come from?" meditated Si. "We
wuz certainly clean of 'em when we started out six days ago."

"O, the rebels skipped out in sich a hurry," ex plained Shorty, "that
they even dropped their house hold pets, which we inherited as we
follered 'em up. I wish this infernal rain'd let up long enough for us
to do some skirmishin' and bile our clothes. Or if the sun'd only come
out an hour or two, we could find an ant-hill, an' lay our clothes on
it. I don't know any little thing that I enjoy more on a pleasant day
when we've bin a long march and got mighty 'crumby, than to pull off my
shirt and lay it on a lively ant-hill, and light my pipe and set there
and watch the busy ants collar its inhabitants and carry 'em off to fill
up their smoke-houses with Winter meat."

He put his hand meditatively into his bosom as he spoke. As he withdrew
it he looked down and exclaimed:

"Jehosephat, it's fleas, too. Just look there. I'm alive with fleas."

"Same here," ejaculated Si, who had made a similar discovery. "Just look
at 'em, hoppin' out every where. The rebels have not only set their
grayback infantry on to us, but are jumping us with their flea cavalry."

"If you call the graybacks infantry and the fleas cavalry, what in the
world do you call these, Si?" said Shorty, who had made still another
discovery, and was pointing to his wrists and ankles, where rows of
gorged ticks, looking like drops of fresh blood, encircled his limbs.

"Them's heavy artillery," answered Si; "and, Great Scott, I've got more
of 'em on me than you have. And there's some just back of your ears,
Shorty. Be careful, Shorty. Don't touch 'em. Le' me work 'em off. Be
awful careful. If you break their heads off they'll stay in and make a
sore that'll almost never get well."

They looked down the lines of men who, like themselves, had been rudely
awakened from their slumber on wet beds by "the pestilence that walketh
by night." There were howls, yells, oaths and imprecations from
everybody. Officers forgot their carefully-maintained dignity, and were
as vociferous and profane as the men.

Many were stripped, and trying to singe their wet clothes over the
smoldering fires. Many were even trying to subdue the pests by thrashing
their garments in the cold water of the creek.

"'Bout as much use as a General Order from Army Headquarters would be
agin the varmints," said Shorty, as he watched their futile labors.
"Say, you fellers," he called out to them; "why don't you repeat the Ten
Commandments to 'em? Or sing the doxology? It'll do just as much good as
sloshing your duds around in the water. The water only makes 'em
savager'n ever. You ought to know that from experience."

By the happy thought of gently touching the gorged wood-ticks with the
point of a pin Si and Shorty had gotten rid of those plagues, heads and
all, so as to leave no apprehension as to future sores. They
communicated this method to their afflicted comrades, and then turned
their attention to the other parasites.

"I guess I'll just go down to the Surgeon's tent and git a pound of
angwintum," said Shorty, "and rub myself from head to foot with it.
That's the only thing I know of that'll do the least good."

"Mustn't do that," objected Si. "Put angwintum on you and get wet, and
you'll be salivated. You ought to know that."

"I don't care," said Shorty desperately. "I'd rather be salivated till
my teeth drop out and my hair falls off than be carried off in large
chunks by fleas and graybacks. Come along."

"Mebbe the Surgeon has something else that'll pizen these little
cusses," said Si, falling in with his comrade.

They found a clamorous group around the Surgeon's tent, asking for
"angwintum (mercurial ointment) or anything else that would alleviate
their torments. The worried Surgeon was scratching himself as he
explained to the Colonel:

"It seems to me, 'Colonel, that the rising water has concentrated all
these parasites on the higher ground over which we have come. This is
the only way in which I can account for their severe visitation upon us.
The parasites seem to have the same instinct to gather on elevated spots
when the water is rising that other animals have, and we have
consequently gathered up four or five times as many, to say the least,
as we should otherwise have gotten. But you don't know the worst of it
yet. You see those men? They have sore feet. But it isn't ordinary sore
feet. They've got chiggers in their feet."

"Chiggers. What are they?" asked the Colonel.

"Chiggers, jiggers, chigoes pulex penetrans," answered the Surgeon.
"They are a great pest in the tropics, where the people go barefooted
and do not take any care of their feet. This is the first time that I
have ever heard of them being so far north. But there is no doubt about
their being chiggers. They burrow in under the skin, and cause a great
deal of suffering. Some of the men's hands and fingers are also affected
by them. They are terrible things to deal with when they once get the
start. If this thing goes on, not a man in the regiment will be able to
walk a step."

"What can be done?" gasped the Colonel, gripping for a flea in his
bosom.

"Nothing," answered the Surgeon, smashing an insect on the back of his
hand, "except to issue a stringent order that the men must take special
care of their feet and hands."

"Humph," said the Colonel, scornfully, as he caught a bug on his wrist;
"much sense in an order of that kind, when the men have to wade through
mud and water 18 hours out of 24, and then sleep in it the other six. Is
that the best you can suggest? Is that all your conscience has to offer?
Remember that you are responsible for the efficiency of the men on this
great campaign, upon which the safety of the country depends. It will be
a severe reflection upon you if you allow them to be broken down by a
few insects."

"Great Pharaoh and Moses," responded the Surgeon irritably, as he
grabbed for "a bite" on his throat. "Here we are, confronted with a
condition of things like the curses which God Almighty sent against the
Egyptians, and you expect me to manage it with quinine and epsom salts.
It can't be done, Colonel."

"Isn't there anything that you can suggest or recommend that will
mitigate this trouble?" said the Colonel in a more conciliatory manner,
for he had just succeeded in crushing a tormentor. "Certainly, there
must be something in your pharmacopeia which will at least retard these
infernal vermin from eating my men alive. Can't you at least check them
a little until we can get through the campaign? Then the men can be
trusted to take care of themselves." And the Colonel made a swoop for a
particularly vicious flea which was banqueting on the lobe of his ear.

"I never set up as a sharp on parasites," said the Surgeon, running down
a "small deer" inside his collar; "but I remember to have read that an
application of tobacco-juice is about as effective a preventive of
insect bites as can be found."

"That'll do; that'll do," said Shorty triumphantly, as he and Si started
back to their places to act at once on the Surgeon's suggestion. "Just
the thing. Tobacker'll kill 'em deader than small-beer. Why didn't I
think about it before?"

Shorty had some strong black plug tobacco. He cut this up into small
pieces, while Si found an old tin can, into which they were put, and
then the can filled up with boiling water.

"Let's make her good and strong, Si," said Shorty, putting in some more
tobacco; "for the fellers are sock-dolagers, and it will take a horse
dose to kill 'em. They'll just enjoy a little taste o' terbacker. Make
it strong enough to bear up an aig. Now, let's git our clothes off while
it's coolin' down. You drench me, and I'll drench you, and we'll
salivate these gallinippers in a way that'll surprise 'em."

The surprise seemed to be mostly on the other side. Shorty's skin was
raw from head to foot from the depredations of the various tribes of
"epizoa," as the physicians generalize them. He gave a yell that could
be heard through the whole regiment as the acrid, biting tobacco-juice
struck a thousand little punctures in his skin inside of a second.
Everybody rushed up to see what was the matter, and stood around,
laughing and commenting, while scratching and slapping at their own
colonies of tormentors. Then Shorty began the most vehement stream of
profanity, and showered maledictions on everything in the State of
Tennessee, which was only a breeding place for fleas, woodticks,
jiggers, graybacks, niggers, rebels, traitors, bushwhackers, guerrillas,
thieves, robbers and murderers, and other spawn of Jeff Davisism.
Presently he grew violently sick at the stomach, turned deathly white,
and fainted. Frightened, Si rushed for the Surgeon.

"Only tobacco poisoning," said the latter, after he had looked Shorty
over carefully. "You made that solution too strong, and the lot of
little punctures took it directly into his circulation. You might have
killed him if you had made it stronger, or got more of it on him. I
never saw such rapscallions as you boys are. You are always trying to
kill yourselves or one another, in spite of all that I can do or tell
you. A man that's Surgeon of this regiment has to earn his money, I tell
you. He will come out all right pretty soon, only he will be very weak.
I'll send you down some whisky to give him."

"Real old rye, Doctor?" said Shorty, very faintly, and opening his eyes
feebly. "None of your Commissary stuff. This is a powerful bad case, and
I need the best."

"You shall have it," laughed the Surgeon. "I know you. You are all right
when you are all right. But you won't be able to march with the column
to-day. I'll give you an excuse from duty. And you (to Si) had better
stay with him. I'll speak to your Captain."

The bugles were sounding the "assembly" every where, and the men,
slapping and scratching as if they would tear their flesh and their
clothes off, were hastily swallowing their last mouthfuls of hot coffee
and bread and pork, snatching up their guns and blankets and falling in.

"Shelbyville is only six miles away," said the Orderly-Sergeant as he
lined up Co. Q, and clawed around his clothes at his persecutors.
"There'll be a circus to-day, and no postponement on account o' the
weather. It'll either be the gol-darnedest fight that the 200th Injianny
Volunteers ever got into or the cussedest foot-race that ever wuz run.
Here, Biles, consarn you, leave that fire and your munching, and fall
in. You're like a cow's tail always behind."

Shorty made a violent effort to rise up and join the company, but he was
manifestly too weak. Si was in sore distress. He didn't want to leave
him, but he was anxious to be with his company.

"Corporal Klegg," said the Captain, coming down the line, and giving a
frequent furtive scratch at himself, "Shorty can't possibly go with us
to-day. I'm awfully sorry, but there is no use talking about it. You
must stay behind and take care of him, and take care of these sore-
footed men who will be unable to keep up. The Colonel orders you to
command the whole outfit. You keep them together, keep up as well as you
can, and if you see any place that you can be useful, go in. I know and
the Colonel knows that you can be trusted to do that."

This made Si more reconciled to being left behind, and he mentally
resolved that, though he might not be with his beloved regiment, he
would manage to do his full share in the impending battle for
Shelbyville.

The "Second Lieutenant and Aid-de-Camp" came up. It was noticed in the
distance that he was suffering from the same causes as the others, but
as soon as he came into the immediate presence of the men his official
dignity asserted itself, he refrained from nervous pursuit of his
verminiferous assailants, and walking stiffly up to the Colonel,
saluted, and said:

"Colonel, I came to report the conduct of a couple of your men who came
under my command night before last, and who, while doing very well in
some respects, were so grossly disrespectful to me that they should be
given a sharp lesson. Unless this is done, it will tend to impair
discipline and diminish the respect which men should show officers."

The Colonel looked straight at the young officer, and noticed an
unusually large insect emerge from his collar and walk deliberately up
his neck onto his cheek. It must have been intensely annoying, but
dignity triumphed, and the Lieutenant stood stiffly as a ramrod.

"I'm very sorry to hear that any of my men should seem wanting in
respect to their officers," said the Colonel quietly, as he "attended
to" a wicked flea which was breakfasting off his wrist. "I can hardly
believe it. I have the most obedient and respectful men in the whole
army. I'm afraid you did something that provoked, if it did not justify,
disrespectful conduct."

The Lieutenant would have been different from the rest of the army if he
had not been very short of temper that morning. The pangs that he was
compelled to endure without the relief of scratch ing made him still
more irritable, and he forgot him self sufficiently to answer:

"I beg your pardon, sir, but you are in error when you represent your
men to be respectful and subordinate. On the contrary, they are the most
lacking in that of any men in the army. I am constantly yelled at by
them as I pass, and they say very insulting things to me. I'm determined
to put a stop to it, and I want you to begin with those two men. If you
don't I shall make a strong report on the subject to the General, which
may lead to your being placed under arrest."

"Young man," said the Colonel severely, as he calmly exterminated
another one of his tormentors, "you are so infested with vermin that I
can see them crawling out from your clothes. It is an insult to me to
have you appear before me in such a condition. Get out of here at once,
and never approach me again in such a condition, or I shall be compelled
to deal with you as you deserve."

The Lieutenant marched away, holding himself more stiffly than ever, and
the Colonel walked to ward the other flank of the regiment, looking so
cross that no one dared give the laugh he was bursting with until he had
mounted his horse and shout ed the command, "Forward!"

The rain actually ceased, and the sun came out for the first time in 10
long days; from miles to the right and left came sounds of infantry and
artillery firing, gradually swelling in volume. Under these exciting
influences, aided, perhaps, by a really fine article of whisky, which
the Surgeon had left, Shorty rapidly recovered, picked up his gun, threw
his blanket-roll over his shoulders, and announced his eagerness to move
forward. The sore-footed men began to feel that their feet were not
really as sore as they had thought, and they also hobbled forward. The
road by which they had camped led straight to Shelbyville, and they felt
that by following it they would have the best chance of getting into the
fight. The road was filled with cavalry, and Si and his squad worked
their way through the woods to the right to get up nearer the front and
find an infantry line.

"What in the world are they doin' with all these cavalry here?" said
Shorty fretfully. "They can't do nothin' agin the mud forts and big guns
and miles o' breastworks and abatis and felled timber that the rebels
've bin puttin' out in front of Shelbyville for the last six months.
Horses are only in the way for sich work. They must 'v'e put the cavalry
back here to be safe, while the infantry does the work. We'll git in
ahead o' the 'critter-companies' somewhere and find the dough-boys."

At last they came out on a hill which commanded a view of the country,
and halted, with an exclamation of delight at the magnificant sight
spread out before hem. The sun was now half-way up in the sky, and
shining with a brightness which seemed divine after the long period of
drenching showers. Its light was reflected in brilliance from thousands
of sabers and accouterments and the waving of flags of the cavalry
divisions which filled the country as far as the eye could reach.
Ascending the slope at the farther side of the valley was a skirmish-
line, two miles long, of dismounted cavalry men, from which rose
wreathes of smoke as it pressed steadily forward up the hill against the
rebels ensconced there. In the green fields on either side of the road,
and in the road itself, were regiments and brigades of horsemen, massed
up solidly, impatiently waiting for the progress of the skirmishers to
bring about the moment when they could be hurled against the enemy in a
mighty avalanche of war. Bugles were sounding, flags flying, and all was
intense, high-wrought, exciting animation.

The boys gave a cheer of exultation at the sight. Suddenly two little
regiments separated themselves from the rest, drew sabers, and, with
bugles sounding the charge and the men yelling, rode straight at the
infantry and the batteries defending the crest of the hill. The rebels
broke before the cavalry could reach them, and began a wild flight, with
infantry, cavalry and artillery mixed in wild confusion, and our
horsemen swooping down on them, capturing horses, men and cannon.

On everybody swept until the crest was gained which commanded a view of
Shelbyville and its famous intrenchments. From these cannon thundered
out, and long lines of infantry could be seen hurrying into the works to
repel the audacious horsemen. Si and Shorty held their breaths, for it
seemed that nothing but destruction awaited the cavalry in those
awfully-planned defenses. But the cavalry thundered on with a headlong
speed. Artillery galloped up on our side, to answer that in the works,
and the boys lost speech in amazement at seeing the horsemen tear
through the wide abatis and jump the high breastworks, while the
defenders streamed back in rout into Shelbyville, pursued every step
with yell and blow by the furious cavalry. Then came the noise of
terrible fighting in the streets of Shelbyville. Jo Wheeler was massing
every cannon that could be brought up to him in a desperate effort to
hold the town, at least, until Forrest could come to his help, or he
could make an orderly retreat across Duck River. But, bitterly as he
fought, the Union troopers fought still more savagely. They simply would
not allow the thought of successful resistance, and wave after wave of
fierce charges followed so rapidly that Wheeler's men broke and fled for
safety into and across the river.

The boys yelled themselves hoarse as they saw the stream of rebel
fugitives pour across the river and seek safety in the country beyond.

"Well, Shelbyville is ours at last, after all this waiting and marching
and manuvering," said Si, in a tone of intense exultation. "And the
cavalry took it. Wish it had been the 200th Injianny Volunteers. I've
always looked down on the cavalry, but I won't do so any more. I wish
the 200th Injianny was mounted. My gracious, wasn't it grand the way
those fellers just galloped over everything in sight breastworks, forts,
batteries, felled timber, and lines of infantry."

"Yes," assented Shorty. "I wouldn't 've missed the sight for the best
farm in the Wabash bottoms. It was worth marching 10 days in the mud and
rain to see."

"Here, Corporal," said a Cavalry Lieutenant, riding up, "I want you to
take charge of these prisoners with your squad, so we can go back and
get some more. The woods are full of them. I'll make out a receipt for
you to sign. I think there's just 100 of them. Count them over for
yourself."

"Sure," said Si, springing forward.



CHAPTER VII. THE EXCITING ADVANCE TULLAHOMA THE GREAT BATTLE THAT DID
NOT COME OFF.

"DON'T yo'uns crow too much over gittin' Shelbyville," the prisoners
said to Si. "Yo'uns couldn't never 've got hit in the world if Jinerul
Bragg hadn't a'wanted yo'uns to."

"O, come off," said Shorty. "You tried your best to keep us from gittin'
in. You put up a very pretty little fight, but our cavalry jest rode
over you."

"Thar wuz nobody thar but Jo Wheeler and his critter company," persisted
the prisoners, "and they'd fout for anything. They'd fout yo'uns for a
chaw of terbacker, and then gin the chaw back. Ole Bragg wuz jist a-
foolin' with yo'uns. He wuz drawin' yo'uns on. He made up his mind that
Shelbyville wuzn't the best place for a fout, and he'd lay for yo'uns at
Tullyhomy. He's got his whole army together down thar, and he'll wollop
yo'uns till your hides won't hold shucks. Ole Bragg's smarter'n ary
Yankee that ever lived, and he's fixed up a dead-fall for yo'uns at
Tullyhomy that'll mash yo'uns flatter'n a pancack."

"Let him go ahead with his mashin' flat," answered Shorty; "we're some
on the mash ourselves, as you fellers found out at Stone River."

"We'uns 'd 'a' welted the life outen yo'uns at Stone River, if we'uns 'd
had jest a few more men; ez hit wuz we'uns run yo'uns all over them 'ere
old cotton-fields fur two days, tuk all yo'uns's cannon, an' more'n a
million prisoners. Fust night I done thought we'uns 'd tuk the whole
Yankee army. We'uns done got tired pickin' up prisoners in them ceders
an' sink-holes, an' concluded t' leave the rest thar fur seed. We'uns
jest f'arly wore ourselves out lickin' yo'uns, an' then yo'uns got a
whole passel 'o fresh men, an' we'uns jest pulled back t' Shelbyville t'
rest, spit on we'uns' hands an' take a fresh holt."

"How about the last day," inquired Si, "over the river on the left, when
we tore you all to flinders with artillery, and run you back over the
hill and took your guns?"

"O, that wuz Breckinridge's Division," said the prisoners, negligently,
as if dismissing a matter of little consequence. "They'uns desarved all
they'uns got. They'uns wus sent for t' come over and help we'uns lick
yo'uns the fust two days, but they'uns wouldn't come. I'm jest glad
they'uns kotched hit good an' hard ez they'uns done got hit. But we'uns
's now got heaps more men than we'uns had at Stone River, an' they're
all together over thar by Tullyhomy. Lordy, you jest orter seed 'em az I
did. I wuz on the top of a mounting on gyard, whar I could see for a
hundred miles in every direction, an' I seed men marchin' toward
Tullyhomy till my eyes ached a-lookin' at 'em. Yo'uns 'll stir up a
mouty sight wuss hornets' nest at Tullyhomy than yo'uns did at
Murfreesboro.

"Well, we'll knock seven kinds o' brimstone out o' your hornets' nest,
big as it may be," answered Shorty. "The more o' you there is the
better, for we kin finish up the job then, and be done with it, instid
o' havin' to run you down an' knock you on the head one at a time. We've
more men, too, than we had at Stone River. There was enough of us
before, but Old Abe just gethered up the men in three or four new
States, and sent 'em down to us to help make a clean, quick job of it.
All we want of you fellers is jest to stand up and give us a square
fight. We're no grayhounds, to run you fellers down. We came down here
to fight, not to trot races with you.

"Well, yo'uns'll git yer bellyful o' foutin' over by Tullyhomy," shouted
back the prisoners as they were marched away under guard.

"It certainly does look like we're to have a bigger scrimmage than we
had at Stone River," said Si, as he and Shorty were once more alone.
"Our army is much larger, and it's all been gathered right around here.
There's bin great rivers of men pouring through all these gaps for days,
and we've talked with fellers from every division and brigade in the
army. There's entirely too many men around here for the country to hold.
Something's got to bust soon, and when it does bust there'll be an
explosion like that you read about."

"Well, let her bust," answered Shorty. "The sooner the better. I want to
see it right off. It's got to come before the war kin end, and for my
part I don't want to march a step further to find it. They can't nohow
git up a worse time than we had at Stone River, and we managed to live
through that; so that I guess we kin pull through another. If we don't,
this 's just as good a place to go to Heaven from as we kin find, and
we'll save a whole lot o' worry by finishin' up now."

"Well," said Si, "let's git back to the regiment as soon's possible. THe
battle may begin at any minute, and we musn't be away. We'd never
forgive ourselves as long's we'd live if we wasn't with the boys when
they line up under the colors for the great tussle."

"Getting to the regiment" was tedious and hard. Shorty was still very
weak from his tobacco experiment, and Si had worked almost to exhaustion
in helping his sore-footed squad along. These were as eager to get back
to the regiment in time for the fight, and Si had not the heart to leave
any one of them behind. The roads were filled with teams being pushed
forward with ammunition and rations, and every road and path crowded
with men hurrying to the "front." They were on the distant flank of
their corps when they started out in the morning, and did not succeed in
reaching the rear of their own division until nightfall. Though worn out
by the day's painful tramping and winding around through the baffling
paths between regiments, brigades and divisions, sometimes halting and
some times moving off suddenly and unexpectedly, they nerved themselves
for one more effort to reach the 200th Ind. before they lay down for the
night. But the night was far harder than the day. The whole country was
full of campfires, around which were men' cooking their supper, standing
in groups, pipe in mouth, anxiously discussing the coming momentous
battle, and the part their regiments would likely play in it, or sitting
writing what they felt might be their last letters home. All were
unutterably tired, and all earnestly thoughtful over the impending
conflict. None felt ordinarily jovial, communicative and sympathetic
with foot-sore stragglers trying to find their regiments. Even when they
were, the movements and changes during the day had been so bewildering
that their best-intentioned directions were more likely to be wrong than
right.

"The 200th Ind.," they would say; "yes, we saw the 200th Ind. about the
middle of the afternoon, right over there on that hillside, where you
see that old tree blazing up. They were acting as if they were going
into camp, and I expect that's their campfires you see there."

Si, Shorty and the rest would make their weary way to the point
indicated, about a half-mile distant, only to find that their regiment
had been sighted at another point a mile away in a different direction.

The morning of July 1, 1863, was almost ready to break when they at last
came up with their regiment, and flung themselves down on the ground in
absolute exhaustion. Worn out as they were, their soldierly ears could
not be deaf to the stirring reveille which quickly followed the early
daybreak of that Summer morning, and summoned the regiment for the
final, decisive move upon the rebel stronghold of Tullahoma.

Though every bone and muscle seemed to cry out against it, Si, Shorty
and their companions rose up promptly and joined the regiment.

Everybody seemed sobered by the nearness of the terrible battle. Nobody
laughed, nobody swore, nobody joked, nobody played the usual light-
hearted reveille tricks. The Orderly-Sergeant did not call the roll with
his usual glibness and rasp. He seemed to linger a little over each
name, as if thinking whether it would be answered to again, or he be
there to call it. The officers gave the commands quietly, even gently.
The men executed promptly, carefully, and silently, as one sees things
done at a funeral or in church. A hasty breakfast was eaten in silence;
the men fell into ranks again, and there was a low buzz as the
cartridge-boxes were carefully inspected and each man supplied with his
full quota of ammunition.

The Colonel mounted his horse, and gave the order, "Forward march," so
quietly that only the leading company heard it. It moved promptly, and
the others followed.

The same strange soberness ruled the other regiments they passed on
their way to take the advance. There was for once no quip or jest from
the men standing by the roadside, leaning thoughtfully on their muskets,
and awaiting their turn to march. They merely watched them file by, with
steady, grave eyes and an occasional calm nod or quiet greeting to an
acquaintance.

The hurrah, the swagger, the noisy effervescence of a few months ago had
disappeared from men who had learned to know what battle was.

The dripping clouds cleared away as the 200th Ind. drew out into the
muddy road, and let the sun suddenly beam forth in full Midsummer power.
In an instant everybody was reeking with perspiration, panting for
breath, and scorching inwardly and outwardly.

It was too much for some who had bravely maintained their places thus
far, and they had to sink by the roadside.

Every minute of the first hour it seemed to Si and Shorty that they
could not go a rod farther, but at the end of every rod they made an
effort to go an other, and succeeded. The sun momentarily grew more
burning, but also it seemed that every step brought them nearer the
enemy, and the thought nerved them up to further exertion. Occasional
rippling shots from watching parties of the rebel cavalry helped
stimulate them.

Noon passed. They were so near the works of Tullahoma that the collision
might come at any minute could not be postponed many minutes. The
regiments left the road and went into line-of-battle, stretching a long
wave of blue through the deep green of the thick forests. How far it
reached no one could tell. Occasional glimpses obtained through the
openings in the woods showed miles of length.

Everything was deeply quiet, except occasional startling crashes from
rebel outposts and the distant booming of cannon on the left.

The 200th Ind. was advancing through a heavy growth of jack-oaks.

Lines of rebel skirmishers had occasionally appeared in front of the
regiment, fired a few shots, and then disappeared. The ease with which
they were driven gave the impression that they were trying to lead the
regiment into ambush, and it moved slowly and very watchfully.

At last, as the hot sun was beginning to sink in the far west, the
regiment came to the edge of the young jack-oaks, and saw before it a
sight which thrilled every heart.

There, a little distance away, lay the formidable works guarding
Tullahoma. To the right and left, as far as the eye could reach,
stretched a bristling line of abatis hundreds of yards wide and
seemingly hopelessly impassable. It was made of the young jack-oaks
felled outwards and their limbs sharp ened till they were like thorns.

Frowning behind this fearsome barrier were high-rising forts mounted
with cannon, and connected with long, sinuous breastworks. A deep ditch
filled with muddy water ran along the foot of the works.

Squads of rebels could be seen running back to the shelter of the
fortifications. Every man in the regiment gave a quick, involuntary gasp
as he saw his work before him.

The whole of the long line was halted and carefully dressed by the
officers, still speaking as softly and kindly as if arranging a funeral
procession, and the men stepping into places promptly, and with a tender
solemnity of manner. There was none of the customary rude jostling and
impatient sharpness. It was:

"You'll have to give away to the left a little, John; I haven't room."

"Come out there, boys, on the right. You're too far back."

"Jim, you'd better fall in behind. I don't believe you're strong enough
to keep up."

Even the brash young "Second Lieutenant and Aid-de-Camp" seemed
impressed with the intense gravity of the moment. He came up to the
Colonel, and seeing he was on foot, respectfully dismounted, saluted,
and said, without a vestige of his usual pertness:

"Colonel, the General presents his compliments, and says that the
battery is badly stuck in the mud a little ways back. As we shall need
it very much, he directs that you send a company to bring it up at
once."

"Very good, sir," said the Colonel, gravely returning his salute, and
speaking as gently as at a tea-table. "It shall be done. Capt.
McGillicuddy, take your company back and bring up the battery."

"Attention, Co. Q," suggested rather than commanded Capt. McGillicuddy.
"Stack arms. Corporal Klegg, you and your squad remain where you are.
You are too tired to do any good. Right face; file left; forward march."

The Colonel mounted his horse, rode down to the center of the regiment,
and said, in a tone hardly raised above the conversational, but which
made itself distinctly heard by every man:

"Fix bayonets."

There was an ominous crash of steel as the bright bayonets swept to
their places.

"Men," continued the Colonel as quietly as if talk ing to a Sunday
school, "we're going to take those works with the bayonet. Keep
perfectly quiet; reserve your breath for quick, hard work, and pay close
attention to orders. We'll move in quick time to the edge of that
slashing of timber; every man make his way through it as best he can,
keeping as near his Captain as possible. As soon as through it he will
run with all his might for the works, fire his gun into the rebels as he
jumps the works, and then rely on his bayonet. No man must fire a shot
until we are crossing the works, and then I want every shot to fetch a
rebel."

He waited a moment before giving the command to advance, for Co. Q,
which had snaked the battery out of the mudhole in a hurry, was coming
on a dead run in order to be on time for the charge. It snatched its
guns from the stacks, and lined up like a long flash of blue light.

The artillerymen had lashed their jaded horses into a feverish run,
swept out into an open space, flung their guns "into battery," and
opened with a vicious bang on the rebel works.

So far not a head appeared above the breastworks; not a shot from the
embrasures in the forts.

"They're just laying low," whispered Si to Shorty, as they instinctively
brought their shoulders together and summoned their energies for the
swift advance. "They'll blaze out like the fires o' hell just as we git
tangled up in that infernal timber-slashin'."

"Well," muttered Shorty, "we'll know mighty soon now. In five minutes
we'll either be in Heaven or bayoneting the rebels in that fort."

"Battalion, forward march!" commanded the Colonel.

The regiments to the right and left got the command at the same instant,
and the long wave of blue rolled forward without a break or fault in its
perfect alignment.

A hundred yards were quickly passed, and still the rebel works were as
silent as a country churchyard. The suspense was fearful. Men bent their
heads as if in momentary expectation of being struck by a fearful blast.

Another hundred yards. Still no bullet from the rifle-pits, no canister
from the forts.

Another hundred yards, and they had struck the entangling abatis, and
were feverishly working their clothes loose from the sharp-pointed
limbs.

"Capt. McGillicuddy," excitedly shouted Si, "there's no men in them
works. Didn't you see that flock o' blackbirds just settle down on that
fort?"

"That's true," said the Captain, after a quick glance. "Colonel, they've
evacuated."

A little to the left of the company Si saw a path through the abatis
made by the rebels taking short cuts in and out of the camp. He and
Shorty quickly broke their way to it, and ran in feverish haste to the
works. They found a puncheon laid to cross the ditch, ran over it, and
mounted the rifle-pit. There was not a man inside of the works. The last
of the garrison could be seen on the other side of Elk River, setting
fire to the bridge by which they had just crossed.

Si and Shorty Were the First to Mount The Parapet. 91

Utterly exhausted by fatigue and the severe mental strain, Si and Shorty
could do nothing more than give a delighted yell, fire their guns at the
distant rebels, when they sank down in complete collapse.

Almost at the same time the same discovery had been made at other points
in the long line moving to the assault; the inside of the works were
quickly filled with a mob of rushing men, who seemed to lift the clouds
with their triumphant yells.

The campaign for Tullahoma was at an end. Bragg had declined battle, and
put the whole of his army out of reach of pursuit behind the swollen
waters of Elk River.

That night by its cheerful campfires the exultant Army of the Cumberland
sang from one end of its long line to the other, with thousands of
voices joining at once in the chorus, its song of praise to Gen.
Rosecrans, which went to the air of "A Little More Cider."

Cheer up, cheer up, the night is past, The skies with light are glowing.
Our ships move proudly on, my boys, And favoring gales are blowing. Her
flag is at the peak, my boys, To meet the traitorous faction. We'll
hasten to our several posts, And immediately prepare for action.

Chorus.

Old Rosey is our man. Old Rosey is our man. We'll show our deeds
where'er he leads, Old Rosey is our man.



CHAPTER VIII. THE GLORIOUS FOURTH INDEPENDENCE DAY FUN ON THE BANKS OF
ELK RIVER.

"THIS is the glorious Fourth of July," remarked Si, as Co. Q broke ranks
from reveille roll-call on the banks of Elk River, and he and Shorty
turned anxious attention to the problem of getting a satisfactory
breakfast out of the scanty materials at their command. "Up home they're
gittin' ready for a great time. Yesterday mother and the girls cooked
enough goodies to feed the whole company. Mother had Abe Lincoln split
up a lot o' fine, dry hickory. Then she het up the big brick oven out by
the Summer-kitchen, and she baked there a lot o' loaves o' her
splendiferous salt-raisin' bread, the best in the whole country, if I do
say it myself."

"Resemble this, Si?" asked Shorty, who was pawing around in his shrunken
haversack, as he produced two dingy crackers and a handful of pieces,
discolored by contact with the coffee and meat during the days of
marching in the rain.

"And, then," continued Si, unmindful of the interruption, "after she
took the bread out, smelling like a bouquet, she put in some biscuits,
and then some dressed chicken, a young pig."

"Just like this," echoed Shorty, pulling out a rusty remnant of very fat
commissary pork.

"Shet up, Shorty," said Si, angered at this reminder of their meager
store, which was all that was left them for the day, since they had far
out marched their wagons. "I won't have you makin' fun o' my mother's
cookin'."

"Well, you shut up torturing me about home goodies," answered Shorty,
"when we hain't got enough grub here to fill one undivided quarter-
section o' one o' our gizzards, and there hain't no more this side o'
the wagons, which are stalled somewhere in the Duck River hills, and
won't be up till the katydids sing. I ain't making fun o' your mother's
cookin'. But I won't have you tormenting me with gas about the goodies
back home."

"I know it ain't right, Shorty," said Si. "It only makes us feel worse.
But I can't help thinkin'\x97"

"Jest go on thinkin'," sneered Shorty, "if you kin fill yourself up that
way. I can't. You'd better set to studyin' how to make less'n quarter
rations for one fill up two men for all day. There ain't no use goin' a-
foragin'. They call this country the Cumberland Barrens. There never was
grub enough in it to half support the clay-eaters that live around here,
and what there was the rebels have carried off. The only thing I kin
think of is to cut up some basswood chips and fry with this pork. Mebbe
we could make 'em soft enough to fill up on." And Shorty gloomily shook
out the last crumb from the haversacks into a tin of water to soak,
while he fried the grease out of the fragment of pork in his half-
canteen.

"And Pap," continued Si, as if determined to banish famine thoughts by
more agreeable ones, "has had the trottin' team nicely curried, and
their manes and tails brushed out, and hitched 'em to that new
Studebaker-spring wagon he wrote about. They'll put all the good things
in, and then mother and the girls'll climb in. They'll go down the road
in great style, and pick up Annabel, and drive over to the Grove, where
they'll meet all the neighbors, and talk about their boys in the army,
and the Posey Brass Band'll play patriotic tunes, and old Beach
Jamieson'll fire off the anvil, and then Parson Ricketts'll put on his
glasses and read the Declaration o' Independence, and then some
politician young lawyer from Mt. Vernon or Poseyville 'll make a sky-
soaring, spread-eagle speech, and\x97"

"O, do come off, Si," said Shorty irritably. "You're only making
yourself hungrier exercising your tongue so. Come here and git your
share o' the breakfast and mind you eat fair."

Shorty had fried out the pork in the dingy, black half-canteen, poured
the soaked crackers into the sputtering hot grease, and given the mess a
little further warming and stirring. Then he pulled the half-canteen
from the split stick which served for a handle, set it on the ground,
and drew a line through it with his spoon to divide the food fairly into
equal portions..

Meanwhile Si had strolled over a little ways to where an old worm fence
had stood when the regiment went into camp. Now only the chunks at the
corners remained. He looked a minute, and then gave a yell of delight.

"Here, Shorty," he called out; "here's something that beats your fried
breakfasts all holler. Here's ripe blackberries till you can't rest, and
the biggest, finest ones you ever saw. Come over here, and you can pick
all you can eat in five minutes."

He began picking and eating with the greatest industry. Shorty walked
over and followed his example.

"They are certainly the finest blackberries I ever saw," he agreed.
"Strange that we didn't notice them before. This country ain't no good
for nothin' else, but it surely kin beat the world on blackberries. Hi,
there! Git out, you infernal brute!"

This latt'er remark was addressed to a long-legged, mangy hound that had
suddenly appeared from no where, and was nosing around their breakfast
with appreciative sniffs. Shorty made a dive for him, but he cleaned out
the half-canteen at one comprehensive gulp, and had put a good-sized
farm between him and the fire before Shorty reached it. That gentleman
fairly danced with rage, and swore worse than a teamster, but the
breakfast was gone beyond recovery. The other boys yelled at and gibed
him, but they were careful to do it at a safe distance.

"'Twasn't much of a breakfast, after all, Shorty," said Si, consolingly.
"The crackers was moldly and the pork full o' maggots, and the Surgeon
has warned us time and again against eatin' them greasy fried messes.
All the doctors say that blackberries is very healthy, and they
certainly taste nice."

Shorty's paroxysm of rage expended itself, and he decided it wisest to
accept Si's advice.

"The berries is certainly fine, Si," he said with returning good humor.
"If I could've only laid a foundation of crackers and meat I could've
built a very good breakfast out of 'em. I misdoubt, though, whether
they've got enough substance and stick-to-the-ribs to make a meal out of
all by themselves. However, I'll fill up on 'em, and hope they'll last
till a grub-cart gets through. There ought to be one here before noon."

"One consolation," said Si; "we won't have to march on this peck. The
Adjutant's just passed the word that we're to rest here a day or two."

The rest of the regiment were similarly engaged in browsing off the
blackberries that grew in wonderful profusion all around, and were
really of extraordinary size. After filling themselves as full as
possible of the fruit, Si and Shorty secured a couple of camp kettles
and gave their garments a boiling that partially revenged themselves
upon the insect life of Tennessee for the torments they endured in the
Tullahoma campaign.

"The better the day the better the deed," remarked Shorty, as he and Si
stood around the fire, clothed in nothing but their soldierly character,
and satisfiedly poked their clothes down in the scalding water.
"Thousands must die that one may be free from graybacks, fleas, and
ticks. How could be better celebrated the Fourth of July than by the
wholesale slaughter of the tyrants who drain the life-blood of freemen
and patriots? Now, that's a sentiment that would be fine for your orator
who is making a speech about this time to your folks in Injianny."

By this time they were hungry again. The black berries had no staying
power in proportion to their filling qualities, and anxiously as they
watched the western horizon, no feet of the mules bringing rations had
been seen beautiful on the mountains.

They went out and filled up again on blackberries, but these seemed to
have lost something of their delicious taste of those eaten earlier in
the morning.

They went back, wrung out their clothes, and put them on again.

"They'll fit better if they dry on us," remarked Shorty. "And I'm afraid
we'll warp, splinter and check if we are exposed to this sun any longer
after all the soakin' we've bin havin' for the past 10 days."

Comfortably full abdominally, with a delicious sense of relief from the
fiendish insects, the sun shining once more brightly in the sky, and
elated over the brilliant success of the campaign, they felt as happy as
it often comes to men.

The scenery was inspiring. Beyond Elk River the romantic Cumberland
Mountains raised their picturesque peaks and frowning cliffs into a
wondrous cloud-world, where the radiant sunshine and the pearly showers
seemed in endless struggle for dominion, with the bright rainbows for
war-banners. When the sunshine prevailed, filmy white clouds flags of
truce floated lazily from peak to peak, and draped themselves about the
rugged rocks. It was an ever-changing panorama of beauty and mystery,
gazing on which the eye never wearied.

"Bragg's somewhere behind them mountains, Shorty," said Si, as the two
lay on the ground, smoked, and looked with charmed eyes on the sky line.
"The next job's to go in there and find him and lick him."

"I don't care a durn, if it's only dry weather," answered Shorty. "I kin
stand anything but rain. I'd like to soldier awhile in the Sahara Desert
for a change. Hello, what's that? A fight?"

A gun had boomed out loudly. The boys pricked up their ears, took their
pipes from their mouths and half raised in anticipation of the bugle-
call. An other shot followed after an interval, and then a third and
fourth.

"They're firing a National salute at Division Headquarters in honor of
the Fourth of July," explained the Orderly-Sergeant.

Everybody jumped to his feet and cheered

Cheered for the Fourth of July;

Cheered for the United States of America;

Cheered for President Abraham Lincoln;

Cheered for Maj.-Gen. Wm. S. Rosecrans.

Cheered for the Army of the Cumberland;

Cheered for the Corps Commander;

Cheered for the Division Commander;

Cheered for the Brigadier-General;

Cheered for the Colonel of the 200th Ind.;

Cheered for their Royal Selves.

"Whew, how hungry that makes me," said Shorty as the cheering and the
firing ended, and he studied the western horizon anxiously. "And not a
sign yit of any mule-team comin' up from the rear. They must have
religious scruples agin travelin' on the Fourth o' July. Well, I s'pose
there's nothin' to do but hunt up some more blackberries. But
blackberries is like mush. They don't seem to stay with you much
longer'n you're eatin' 'em."

But they had to go much farther now to find blackberries. The whole
hungry regiment had been hunt ing blackberries all day, and for more
than a mile around camp the briers were bare. Si and Shorty succeeded at
last in finding another plentiful patch, upon which they filled up, and
returned to camp for another smoke and an impatient look for the
Commissary teams.

"I like blackberries as well as any other man," mused Shorty, "but it
don't seem to me that last lot was nearly so good as the first we had
this morning. Mebbe the birds kin eat 'em four times a day and seven
days in the week without gittin' tired, but I ain't much of a bird,
myself. I'd like to change off just now to about six big crackers, a
pound o' fat pork and a quart o' coffee. Wonder if the rebel cavalry
could've got around in our rear and jumped our trains? No; 'Joe
Wheeler's critter company,' as that rebel called 'em, hain't quit
runnin' yit from the lickin' Minty give 'em at Shelbyville. Mebbe the
mules have struck. I'd 'a' struck years ago if I'd bin a mule."

The sun began to sink toward the western hills, and still no welcome
sign of coming wagons.

Si remarked despairingly:

"Well, after all the berry-eatin' I've done to-day I feel as holler as a
bee-gum. I don't believe any wagons'll git up to-night, and if we're
goin' to have any supper at all we'd better go out and pick it before it
gits too dark to see."

They had to go a long distance out this time to find a good berry patch.
It was getting dark be fore they fairly began picking their supper.
Presently they heard voices approaching from the other side. They
crouched down a little behind the brier-clumps and listened.

"Be keerful. The Yankee pickets must be nigh. Thar's their campfires."

"Pshaw. Them fires is two miles away. Thar's no pickets fur a mile yit.
Go ahead."

"No sich thing. Them fires ain't a mile off.

"Their pickets are likely right along that 'ere ridge thar."

"Bushwhackers," whispered Si, rising a little to reconnoiter. "One, two,
three, four, five, six on 'em. Sneakin' up to pick off our pickets.
What'd we better do?"

"Only thing I kin think of," whispered Shorty back, feeling around for a
stick that would represent a gun, "is the old trick of ordering 'em to
surrender. It's an awful bluff, but we may work it this time. If they've
got any grit we needn't worry no more about rations. They'll git us."

Si snatched up a piece of rail, and they sprang up together, shouting:

"Halt! Surrender! Don't move a hand or we'll blow your heads off."

"All right, Yank. We surrender. Don't shoot. We'uns 've bin a-huntin'
yo'uns to gin ourselves up. We'uns is tired o' the wah."

The Bluff Worked 107

"The thunder you do," said Si in amazement.

"Yes," said the leader, walking forward; "we'uns is plumb sick o' the
wah, and want t' take the oath and go home. 'Deed we'uns do."

"Well, you liked to 've scared two fine young soldiers to death,"
murmured Si under his breath.

"Halt, there," called out the suspicious Shorty.

"Don't come any nearer, or I'll fire. Stand still, and hold your guns
over your heads, till I send a man out to git 'em."

The rebels obediently held their guns in the air.

"Sergeant," commanded Shorty, "go forward and relieve the men of their
arms, while the rest of us keep 'em kivvered to prevent treachery and
gittin' the drop on us."

Si went out and took the guns, one by one, from the hands of the men,
and made as good an examination as he could, hastily, to see that they
carried nothing else.

"Lordy, Yank, if you only knowed how powerful glad we'uns is to git to
yo'uns, you wouldn't 'spicion us. We'uns 's nigh on to starved t' death.
Hain't had nothin' to eat but blackberries for days. And hit's bin
march, march, all the time, right away from we'uns's homes. Goramighty
only knows whar ole Bragg's a-gwine tuh. Mebbe t' Cuby. We'uns wuz
willin' t' fout fur ole Tennessee, but for nary other State. When he
started out o' Tennessee we'uns jest concluded t' strike out and leave
him. Lordy, Mister, hain't you got something t' eat? We'uns is jest
starvin' t' death. 'Deed we'uns is."

"Awful sorry," replied Shorty, as he and Si gathered up the guns and
placed themselves behind the group. "But we hain't nothin' to eat
ourselves but blackberries, and won't have till our wagons git up, which
'll be the Lord and Gen. Rosecrans only knows when. You shall have it
when we kin git it. Hello, the boys are cheerin'. That means a wagon's
got in. Skip out, now, at a quarter-hoss gait. They may gobble it all up
before we git there."

Inspired by this, they all started for camp in quick-time. Shorty was
right in interpreting the cheering to mean the arrival of a ration-
wagon.

When they reached Co. Q they found the Orderly-Sergeant standing over a
half-box of crackers.

Around him was gathered the company in a petulant state of mind.

"Cuss and swear, boys, all you've a mind to," he was saying, "if you
think that'll swell your grub. You know it won't. Only one wagon's come
up, and it had only a half-load. Our share in it is what you see here. I
figure that there's just about one cracker apiece for you, and as I call
your names you'll step up and get it. Don't swear at me. I've done the
best I could. Cuss the Tennessee mud and freshets in the cricks all you
want to, if you think that'll fill your crops, but let me alone, or I'll
bust somebody."

"I've my opinion o' the glorious Fourth o' July," said Shorty, as he
nibbled moodily at his solitary cracker. "I'll change my politics and
vote for Thanksgiving Day and Christmas after this."

"Well, I think that we've had a pretty fine Fourth," said the more
cheerful Si. "For once in my life I've had all the blackberries I could
eat, and otherwise it's a pleasant day. Them deserters gave me a cold
chill at first, but I'm glad we got 'em. There'll certainly be more
wagons up to-night, and to-morrow we'll have all we kin eat."

And that night, for the first in 10 days, they slept under dry blankets.



CHAPTER IX. A LITTLE EPISODE OVER LOVE LETTERS.

HOW exuberantly bright, restful, and happy were those long July days on
the foothills of the Cumberland Mountains, after the fatigues and
hardships, the endless rains, the fathom less mud, the angry, swollen
streams, the exhaust ing marches, and the feverish anxieties of the
Tullahoma campaign.

The insolent, threatening enemy had retreated far across the mountain
barrier. For the while he was out of reach of striking or being struck.
The long-delayed commissary-wagons had come up, and there was an
abundance to eat. The weather was delightful, the forests green, shady
and inviting, the scenery picturesque and inspiring, and every day
brought news of glorious Union victories, over which the cannon boomed
in joyful salutes and the men cheered themselves hoarse. Grant had taken
Vicksburg, with 25,000 prisoners, and chased Joe Johnston out of sight
and knowledge. Prentiss had bloodily repulsed Sterling Price at Helena.
Banks had captured Port Hudson, with 6,000 prisoners. The Mississippi
River at last "flowed unvexed to the sea." Meade had won a great victory
at Gettysburg, and Lee's beaten army was in rapid retreat to Virginia.
"The blasted old Southern Confederacy is certainly havin' its
underpinnin' knocked out, its j'ints cracked, and its roof caved in,"
remarked Si, as the two boys lay under the kindly shade of a low-growing
jackoak, lazily smoked their pipes, and gazed contentedly out over the
far-spreading camps, in which no man was doing anything more laborious
than gathering a little wood to boil his evening coffee with. "'Tain't
fit to store brick-bats in now. By-and-by we'll go out and hunt up old
Bragg and give him a good punch, and the whole crazy shebang 'll come
down with a crash."

"I only wish old Bragg wasn't of sich a retirin' nature," lazily
commented Shorty. "The shade o' this tree is good enough for me. I don't
want to ever leave it. Why couldn't he've waited for me, and we could've
had it out here, coolly and pleasantly, and settled which was the best
man! The thing' d bin over, and each feller could've gone about his
business."

Both relapsed into silence as each fell into day dreams the one about a
buxom, rosy-cheeked little maiden in the Valley of the Wabash; the other
of one in far-off Wisconsin, whom he had never seen, but whom he
mentally endowed with all the virtues and charms that his warmest
imagination could invest a woman. Neither could see a woman without
thinking how inferior she was in looks, words or acts to those whose
images they carried in their hearts, and she was sure to suffer greatly
by the comparison.

Such is the divinely transforming quality of love.

Each of the boys had taken the first opportunity, after getting enough
to eat, a shelter prepared, and his clothes in shape and a tolerable
rest, to write a long letter to the object of his affections. Shorty's
letter was not long on paper, but in the time it took him to write it.
He felt that he was making some progress with the fair maid of Bad Ax,
and this made him the more deeply anxious that no misstep should thwart
the progress of love's young dream.

Letter-writing presented unusual difficulties to Shorty. His training in
the noble art of penmanship had stopped short long before his sinewy
fingers had acquired much knack at forming the letters. Spelling and he
had a permanent disagreement early in life, and he was scarcely on
speaking terms with grammar. He had never any trouble conveying his
thoughts by means of speech. People had very little difficulty in
understanding what he meant when he talked, but this was quite different
from getting his thoughts down in plain black and white for the reading
of a strange young woman whom he was desperately anxious to please, and
desperately afraid of offending. He labored over many sheets of paper
before he got a letter that seemed only fairly satisfactory. One he had
rejected because of a big blot on it; second, because he thought he had
expressed himself too strongly; a third, because of an erasure and
unseemly correction; a fourth, because of some newborn suspicions about
the grammar and spelling, and so on. He thought, after he had carefully
gathered up all his failures and burned them, together with a number of
envelopes he had wrecked in his labor to direct one to Miss Lucinda
Briggs, Bad Ax, Wis., sufficiently neatly to satisfy his fastidious
taste.

He carefully folded his letter, creasing it with a very stalwart thumb-
nail, sealed it, gave it a long inspection, as he thought how much it
was carrying, and how far, and took it up to the Chaplain's tent to be
mailed.

Later in the afternoon a hilarious group was gathered under a large
cottonwood. It was made up of teamsters, Quartermaster's men, and other
bobtail of the camp, with the officers' servants forming the dark fringe
of an outer circle. Groundhog was the presiding spirit. By means best
known to himself he had become possessed of a jug of Commissary whisky,
and was dispensing it to his auditors in guarded drams to highten their
appreciation of his wit and humor. He had come across one of the nearly-
completed letters which Shorty had thrown aside and failed to find when
he burned the rest. Groundhog was now reading this aloud, accompanied by
running comments, to the great amusement of his auditors, who felt that,
drinking his whisky, and expecting more, they were bound to laugh
uproariously at anything he said was funny.

"Shorty, that lanky, two-fisted chump of Co. Q, who thinks hisself a
bigger man than Gineral Rosecrans," Groundhog explained, "has writ a
letter to a gal away off somewhere up North. How in the kingdom he ever
come to git acquainted with her or any respectable woman 's more'n I kin
tell. But he's got cheek enough for anything. It's sartin, though, that
she's never saw him, and don't know nothin' about him, or she'd never
let him write to her. Of course, he's as ignorant as a mule. He
skeercely got beyant pot-hooks when he wuz tryin' to larn writin', an'
he spells like a man with a wooden leg. Look here:

"'Mi Dere Frend.' Now, everybody knows that the way to spell dear is d-
e-e-r. Then he goes on:

"'I taik mi pen in hand to inform u that Ime well, tho I've lost about
15 pounds, and hoap that u air injoyin' the same blessin."

"Think o' the vulgarity o' a man writin' to a young lady 'bout his
losin' flesh. If a man should write sich a thing to my sister I'd hunt
him up and wollop the life outen him. Then he goes on:

"'I aint built to spare much meat, and the loss of 15 pounds leaves
fallow lots in mi cloze. But it will grow it all back on me agin mitey
quick, as soon as we kin hav another protracted meetin' with the
Commissary Department.'

"Did you ever hear sich vulgarity?" Groundhog groaned. "Now hear him
brag and use langwidge unfit for any lady to see:

"'We've jest went throo the gosh-almightiest campane that enny army ever
done. It wuz rane and mud 48 ours outen the 24, with thunder and
litenin' on the side. We got wettern Faro's hosts done chasin' the Jews
throo 50 foot of Red See. But we diddent stop for that till we'd hussled
old Bragg outen his works, and started him on the keen jump for
Chattynoogy, to put the Cumberland Mountings betwixt us and him.'

"Think o' the conceit o' the feller. Wants to make that gal believe that
he druv off Bragg a'most single-handed, and intends to foller him up and
kick him some more. Sich gall. Sich fellers hurts us in the opinion o'
the people at home. They make 'em think we're all a set o' blowhards.
But this aint nothin' to what comes next. He tries to honeyfugle the
gal, and he's as clumsy 'bout it as a brown b'ar robbin' a bee-hive.
Listen:

"'mi dere frend, I can't tell you how happy yore letters maik me. I've
got so I look for the male a good dele more angshioussly than for the
grub wagon.'

"Think o' a man sayin' grub to a lady," said Groundhog, in a tone of
deep disgust. "Awful coarse. A gentleman allers says 'peck,' or 'hash,'
or Vittels,' when he's speakin' to a lady, or before ladies. I licked a
man onct for sayin' 'gizzard-linen' before my mother, and gizzard-linin'
aint half as coarse as grub. But he gits softer'n mush as he goes on.
Listen:

"'I rede every wun of 'em over till they're cleane wore out, and then I
save the pieces, bekaze they cum from u. I rede them whenever Ime alone,
and it seems to me that its yeres before another one comes. If I cood
make anybody feel as good by ritin' to 'em as u kin me Ide rite 'em
every day.'

"Thar's some more of his ignorant spellin'," said Groundhog. "Everybody
but a blamed fool knows the way to spell write is w-r-i-g-h-t. I learnt
that much before I wuz knee-high to a grasshopper. But let me continner:

"'I think Bad Ax, Wisconsin, must be the nicest plais in the world,
bekaze u live there. I woodent want to live anywhair else, and Ime
cummin up thar just as soon as the war is over to settle. I think of u
every our in the day, and\x97'

"He thinks of her every hour. The idee," said Groundhog, with deep
scorn, "that sich a galoot as Shorty thinks of anything more'n a minute,
except triple-X, all-wool, indigo-dyed cussedness that he kin work off
on some other feller and hurt him, that he don't think's as smart as he
is. Think o' him gushin' out all this soft-solder to fool some poor
girl."

"You infernal liar, you, give me that letter," shouted Si, bolting into
the circle and making a clutch at the sheet. "I'll pound your onery head
off en you."

Si had come up unnoticed, and listened for a few minutes to Groundhog's
tirade before he discovered that his partner was its object. Then he
sprang at the teamster, struck him with one hand, and snatched at the
letter with the other. The bystanders instinctively sided with the
teamster, and Si became the center of a maelstrom of kicks and blows,
when Shorty, seeing his partner's predicament, bolted down the hill and
began knocking down every body in reach until he cleared a way to Si's
side. By this time the attention of the Sergeant of the Guard was
attracted, and he brought an energetic gun-barrel to the task of
restoring the reign of law and order.

"How in thunder'd you come to git into a fracas with that herd o'
mavericks, Si?" asked Shorty, in a tone of rebuke, as the Sergeant was
rounding up the crowd and trying to get at who was to blame. "Couldn't
you find somebody on your own level to fight, without startin' a fuss
with a passel o' low-down, rust-eaten roustabouts? What's got into you?
Bin livin' so high lately that you had to have a fight to work off your
fractiousness? I'm surprised at you."

"Groundhog' d got hold of a letter o' your'n to your girl up in
Wisconsin," gasped Si, "and was readin' it to the crowd. Here's a piece
of it."

Shorty glanced at the fragment of torn paper in Si's hand, and a deep
blush suffused his sun-browned cheek. Then he gave a howl and made a
rush for Groundhog.

"Here, let that man alone, or I'll make you," shouted the Sergeant of
the Guard.

"Sergeant," said Si, "that rat-faced teamster had got hold of a letter
to his girl, and was reading it to this gang o' camp offal."

"O," said the Sergeant, in a changed tone; "hope he'll baste the life
out of him." And he jumped in before a crowd that was showing some
disposition to go to Groundhog's assistance, sharply ordered them to
about-face, and drove them off before him.

"Here, Sergeant," shouted the Officer of the Guard, who came running up;
"what are you fooling around with these fellows for? They're not doing
any thing. Don't you see that man's killing that team ster?"

"Teamster had got hold of a letter to his girl," explained the Sergeant,
"and was reading it to these whelps."

"O," said the Officer of the Guard in a different tone. "Run these
rascals down there in front of the Quartermaster's and set them to work
digging those stumps out. Keep them at it till midnight, without
anything to eat. I'll teach them to raise disturbances in camp."



CHAPTER X. AFTER BRAGG AGAIN RESTFUL SUMMER DAYS END\x97THE UNION PEOPLE OF
EAST TENNESSEE.

THOUGH every man in the Army of the Cumberland felt completely worn out
at the end of the Tullahoma campaign, it needed but a few days' rest in
pleasant camps on the foothills of the Cumberland Mountains, with plenty
of rations and supplies of clothing, to beget a restlessness for another
advance.

They felt envious of their comrades of the Army of the Tennessee, who
had cornered their enemy in Vicksburg and forced him to complete
surrender.

On the other hand, their enemy had evaded battle when they offered it to
him on the place he had himself chosen, had eluded their vigorous
pursuit, and now had his army in full possession of the great objective
upon which the eyes of the Army of the Cumberland had been fixed for two
years Chattanooga.

It was to Chattanooga that Gen. Scott ultimately looked when he began
the organization of forces north of the Ohio River. It was to
Chattanooga that Gens. Anderson, Sherman and Buell looked when they were
building up the Army of the Ohio. It was nearly to Chattanooga that Gen.
Mitchel made his memorable dash after the fall of Nashville, when he
took Huntsville, Bridgeport, Stevenson and other outlying places. It was
for Chattanooga that the "Engine Thieves" made their thrilling venture,
that cost eight of their lives. It was to Chattanooga that Buell was
ordered with the Army of the Ohio, after the "siege of Corinth," and
from which he was run back by Bragg's flank movement into Kentucky. It
was again toward Chattanooga that Rosecrans had started the Army of the
Cumberland from Nashville, in December, 1862, and the battle of Stone
River and the Tullahoma campaign were but stages in the journey.

President Lincoln wanted Chattanooga to relieve the sorely persecuted
Unionists of East Tennessee. Military men wanted Chattanooga for its
immense strategic importance, second only to that of Vicksburg.

The men of the Army of the Cumberland wanted Chattanooga, as those of
the Army of the Potomac wanted Richmond, and those of the Army of the
Tennessee had wanted Vicksburg, as the victor's guerdon which would
crown all their marches, skirmishes and battles.

But between them and Chattanooga still lay three great ranges of
mountains and a broad, navigable river. Where amid all these
fortifications of appalling strength would Bragg offer them battle for
the Confederacy's vitals?

"I don't care what Bragg's got over there," said Si, looking up at the
lofty mountain peaks, as he and Shorty discussed the probabilities. "He
can't git nothing worse than the works at War Trace and Shelbyville,
that he took six months to build, and was just goin' to slaughter us
with. And if we go ahead now he won't have the rain on his side. It
looks as if it has set in for a long dry spell; the country 'll be so we
kin git around in it without trouble. If the walkin' only stays good
we'll find a way to make Mr. Bragg hump out of Chattanooga, or stay in
there and git captured."

"Yes," assented Shorty, knocking the ashes out of his brierwood pipe,
and beginning to shave down a plug of bright navy to refill it, "and
I'll put old Rosey's brains and git-there agin all the mountains and
rivers and forts, and breastworks and thingama-jigs that Bragg kin git
up. Old Rosecrans is smarter any day in the week than Bragg is on
Sunday. He kin give the rebels cards and spades and run 'em out before
the fourth round is played. Only I hope he won't study about it as long
as he did after Stone River. I want to finish up the job in warm, dry
weather, and git home."

And his eyes took on a far-away look, which Si had no difficulty
interpreting that "home" meant a place with a queer name in distant
Wisconsin.

"Well," said Si reflectively, "old Rosecrans didn't study long after he
took command of us at Nashville, before plunking us squarely at the
Johnnies on Stone River. I think he's out for a fight now, and bound to
git it in short meter."

But the impatient boys had to wait a long Summer month, until the
railroads to the rear could be repaired to bring up supplies, and for
the corn to ripen so as to furnish forage for the cavalry.

But when, on the 16th of August, 1863, Rosecrans began his campaign of
magnificant strategy for the possession of Chattanooga, the 200th Ind.
had the supreme satisfaction of leading the advance up into the
mountains of living green to find the enemy and bring him to bay.

A few days' march brought them up onto the Cumberland Plateau. They had
now left the country of big plantations with cottonfields, and come upon
one of small farms and poor people. Si, with a squad, had been marching
far ahead all day as an advance-guard. They had seen no rebels, but all
the same kept a constant and vigilant outlook for the enemy. They were
approaching a log house of rather better class than any they had seen
since ascending the mountain. As they raised the crest of a hill they
heard a horn at the house give a signal, which set them keenly alert,
and they pushed forward rapidly, with their guns ready. Then they saw a
tall, slender young woman, scarcely more than a girl, dart out of the
house and attempt to cross the road and open ground to the dense woods.
Si sprang forward in pursuit. She ran like a young deer, but Si was
swift of foot, and had taken the correct angle to cut her off. He caught
her flying skirts and then grasped her wrist.

She Ran Like a Deer, But si Cut Her off 123

"Where are you goin', and what for?" he asked sternly, as he held her
fast and looked into her frightened eyes, while her breast heaved with
exertion and fear.

"I ain't goin' nowhar, an' for nothin'," she an swered sullenly.

"Yes you was, you young rebel," said Si. "You were goin' to tell some
sneakin' rebels about us. Where are they?"

"Wa'n't gwine to do nothin' o' the kind," she answered between gasps for
breath. "I don't know whar thar's no rebels. Thought they'uns had all
done gone away down the mounting till I seed yo'uns."

"Come, girl, talk sense," said Si roughly. "Tell me where those rebels
are that you was goin' to, and do it quick. Boys, look sharp."

A tall, very venerable man, with long, snowy-white hair and whiskers
came hobbling up, assisting his steps with a long staff with a handle of
a curled and twisted ram's horn.

"Gentlemen," he said, with a quavering voice, "I beg yo'uns won't harm
my granddaughter. She hain't done nothin' wrong, I'll sw'ar it, t'
yo'uns. We'uns 's for the Union, but that hain't no reason why we'uns
should be molested. We'uns 's peaceable, law-abidin' folks, an' ain't
never done nothin' agin the Southern Confederacy. All our neighbors
knows that. Ax any o' they'uns. If yo'uns must punish someone, take me.
I'm the one that's responsible for their Unionism. I've learned 'em
nothin' else sense they'uns wuz born. I'm a very old man, an' hain't
long t' live, nohow. Yo'uns kin do with me what yo'uns please, but for
my sake spare my innocent granddaughter, who hain't done nothin'."

Si looked at him in amazement. It was no uncommon thing for people to
protest Unionism, but sincerity was written in every line of the old
man's face.

"You say you're Union," he said. "If that's so, you've nothin' to fear
from us. We're Union soldiers. But what was that signal with the horn,
and where was this girl goin'?"

"She blowed the horn at my orders, to inform my neighbors, and she wuz
gwine on an arrant for me. Whatever she done I ordered her to do. Yo'uns
kin visit hit all on my head. But hit wa'n't nothin' agin yo'uns or the
Southern Confederacy."

"I tell you we're Union soldiers," repeated Si. "Can't you tell that by
our clothes?"

The old man's face brightened a little, but then a reminder of sorrowful
experience clouded it again.

"I've never seed no Union soldiers," said he. "The rebels come around
here dressed all sorts o' ways, and sometimes they pretend to be Union,
jest to lay a snare for we'uns. They'uns all know I'm Union, but I'm too
old t' do 'em harm. Hit's my neighbors they'uns is arter. But, thank
God, they'uns 's never kotched any o' them through me."

"I tell you we're genuine, true-blue Union soldiers from Injianny,
belong to Rosecrans's army, and are down here to drive the rebels out o'
the country. There, you kin see our flag comin' up the mountain."

The old man shaded his eyes with his hand, and looked earnestly at the
long line of men winding up the mountain-side.

"I kin see nothin' but a blue flag," said he, "much the same as some o'
Bragg's rijimints tote."

Si looked again, and noticed that only the blue regimental flag was
displayed.

"Wait a minnit, I'll convince him," said Shorty, and running down the
mountain he took the marker from the right guide of the regiment, and
presently came back waving it proudly in the sunshine.

The old man's face brightened like a May day, and then his faded eyes
filled with joyful tears as he exclaimed:

"Yes, thank Almighty God, that's hit. That's the real flag o' my
country. That's the flag I fit under with ole Jackson at New Orleans. I
bless God that I've lived to see the day that hit's come back."

He took the flag in his hands, fondly surveyed its bright folds, and
then fervently kissed it. Then he said to his granddaughter:

"Nance, call the boys in, that they'uns's may see thar friends 've come
at last."

Nance seemed to need no second bidding. She sped back to the porch,
seized the long tin horn and sent mellow, joyful notes floating far over
the billowy hills, until they were caught up by the cliffs and echoed
back in subdued melody.

"Don't be surprised, gentlemen, at what yo'uns 'll see," said the old
man.

Even while the bugle-like notes were still ringing on the warm air, men
began appearing from the most unexpected places. They were all of the
same type, differing only in age from mere boys to middle-aged men. They
were tall, raw-boned and stoop-shouldered, with long, black hair, and
tired, sad eyes, which lighted up as they saw the flag and the men
around it. They were attired in rude, home spun clothes, mostly ragged
and soiled, and each man carried a gun of some description.

They came in such numbers that Si was startled. He drew his men
together, and looked anxiously back to see how near the regiment had
come.

"I done tole yo'uns not t' be surprised," said the old man reassuringly;
"they'uns 's all right every one of 'em a true Union man, ready and
willin' t' die for his country. The half o' they'uns hain't got in yit,
but they'll all come in."

"Yes, indeed," said one of the first of them to come in, a pleasant-
faced, shapely youth, with the soft down of his first beard scantily
fringing his face, and to whom Nancy had sidled up in an unmistakable
way. "We'uns 've bin a-layin' out in the woods for weeks, dodgin' ole
Bragg's conscripters and a-waitin' for yo'uns. We'uns 've bin watchin'
yo'uns all day yisterday, an' all this mornin', tryin' t' make out who
yo'uns rayly wuz. Sometimes we'uns thought yo'uns wuz Yankees, an' then
agin that yo'uns wuz the tail-end o' Bragg's army. All we'uns 's a-gwine
t' jine all yo'uns, an' fout for the Union."

"Bully boys right sentiments," said Shorty enthusiastically. "There's
room for a lot o' you in this very regiment, and it's the best regiment
in the army. Co. Q's the best company in the regiment, and it needs 15
or 20 fine young fellers like you to fill up the holes made by Stone
River and Tennessee rain and mud."

"I'll go 'long with you, Mister Ossifer, if you'll take me," said the
youth, very shyly and softly to Si, whose appearance seemed to attract
him.

"Certainly we'll take you," said Si, "if the Surgeon 'll accept you, and
I'll see that you're sworn in on the spot."

"Nancy," said the youth diffidently to the girl, who had stood by his
side holding his hand during the whole conversation, "yo' done promised
yo'd marry me as soon's the Yankee soldiers done come for sure, and
they'uns 've done come, millions of 'em. Looky thar millions of 'em."

He pointed to the distant hills, every road over which was swarming with
legions of blue.

"Yes, Nate," said the girl, reddening, chewing her bonnet-strings to
hide her confusion, and stir ring up the ground with the toe of her
shoe, "I reckon I did promise yo' I'd marry yo' when the Yankee soldiers
done come for sure, and thar does seem t' be a right smart passel of 'em
done come already, with a heapin' more on the way. But yo' ain't gwine
t' insist on me keepin' my promise right off, air yo'?"

And she took a bigger bite at her bonnet-strings and dug a deeper hole
with the toe of her shoe.

"Yes, indeedy right off jest the minnit I kin find a preacher," replied
Nate, growing bolder and more insistent as he felt his happiness
approaching. "I'm a-gwine off t' the war with this gentleman's company
(indicating Si with a wave of his disengaged hand), and we must be
spliced before I start. Say, Mister Ossifer (to Si), kin yo' tell me
whar I kin find a preacher?"

Si and Shorty and the rest were taking a deep interest in the affair. It
was so fresh, so genuine, so unconventional that it went straight to all
their hearts, and, besides, made a novel incident in their campaign.
They were all on the side of the would-be bridegroom at once, and
anxious for his success. The Adjutant had come up with the order that
they should stop where they were, for the regiment would go into camp
just below for the day. So they had full leisure to attend to the
matter. The Tennesseeans took only a modified interest, for the presence
of the Union army was a much more engrossing subject, and they preferred
to stand and gaze open-eyed and open-mouthed at the astonishing swarms
of blue-clad men rather than to pay attention to a commonplace mountain
wooing.

"We have a preacher he's the Chaplain of the regiment," suggested Si.

"Any sort of a preacher'll do for me," said Nate sanguinely, "so long 's
he's a preacher Hard Shell, Free Will, Campbellite, Winebrennarian,
Methodist, Cumberland Presbyterian and kind, so long 's he's a
regularly-ordained preacher, 'll do for me. Won't hit for you, honey?"

"Granddad's a Presbyterian," she said, blushing, "and I'd rather he'd be
a Presbyterian. Better ax granddad."

Nate hurried over to the grandfather, who was so deeply engrossed in
talking politics, the war, and the persecutions the East Tennesseeans
had endured at the hands of the rebels with the officers and soldiers
gathered around that he did not want to be bothered with such a
comparatively unimportant matter as the marriage of a granddaughter.

"Yes, marry her any way you like, so long as you marry her honest and
straight," said he impatiently to Nate. Then, as Nate turned away, he
explained to those about him: "That's the 45th grandchild that I've had
married, and I'm kind o' gittin used t' hit, so t' speak. Nate and her
've bin keepin' company and courtin' ever sense they wuz weaned, an' bin
pesterin' the life out o' me for years t' let 'em git jined. Sooner
hit's done the better. As I wuz sayin', we'uns give 80,000 majority in
Tennessee agin Secession, but ole Isham Harris" etc.

"I'll speak to the Adjutant about it," said Si, when Nate came back
glowing with gladness.

The young Adjutant warmly approved the enlistment proposition, and was
electrified by the idea of the marriage.

"I'll go and talk to the Colonel and the Chaplain about it. Why, it'll
be no end of fun. We'll fix up a wedding-supper for them, have the band
serenade them, and send an account of it home to the papers. You go and
get them ready, and I'll attend to the rest. Say, I think we'd better
have him enlisted, and then married afterward. That'll make it a
regimental affair. You take him down to Capt. McGillicuddy, that he may
take him before the Surgeon and have him examined. Then we'll regularly
enlist him, and he'll be one of us, and in the bonds of the United
States before he is in the bonds of matrimony. It'll be the first
marriage in the regiment, but not the first one that is ardently
desired, by a long shot."

The Adjutant gave a little sigh, which Si could not help echoing, and
Shorty joined in.

"Well, our turns will come, too, boys," said the Adjutant with a laugh,
"when this cruel war is over." And he whistled "The Girl I Left Behind
Me" as he rode back to camp.

The Surgeon found Nathan Hartburn physically sound, the oath was duly
administered to the young recruit, and he made his mark on the
enlistment papers, and was pronounced a soldier of the United States,
belonging to Co. Q, 200th Ind. He had been followed through all these
steps by a crowd of his friends, curious to see just what was the method
of "jinin' the Union army," and when Co. Q received its new member with
cheers and friendly congratulations the others expressed their eagerness
to follow his example.

Co. Q was in a ferment over the wedding, with everybody eager to do
something to help make it a grand success, and to fill the hearts of the
other companies with envy. The first and greatest problem was to provide
the bridegroom with a uniform in which to be married. The
Quartermaster's wagons were no one knew exactly where, but certainly a
day or more back on the road, and no one had started out on the campaign
with any extra clothing. Shorty, who considered himself directly
responsible for the success of the affair, was for awhile in despair. He
was only deterred from stealing a pair of the Colonel's trousers by the
timely thought that it would, after all, be highly improper for a
private to be wearing a pair of pantaloons with a gold cord. Then he
resolved to make a sacrifice of himself. He was the nearest Nate's
proportions of any man in the company, and he had drawn a new pair of
trousers just before starting on the march. They had as yet gotten very
slightly soiled. He went to the spring and laboriously washed them until
they were as bright as new, and, after they were dried, insisted on Nate
trading pantaloons with him. A new blouse was more readily found, and as
readily contributed by its owner. Si freely gave up his sole extra
shirt, and another donated a pair of reserve shoes. The Adjutant came in
with a McClellan cap. When the company barber cut Nate's long hair, and
shaved him, he was arrayed in his wedding uniform, and as Si had given
him a little drill in holding him self erect, he was as presentable a
soldier as could be found in the regiment, and quite as proud of himself
as the boys of Co. Q were of him. Then an other despairing thought
struck Shorty:

"'Tain't right," he communed with Si and the rest, "that the bridegroom
should have all the good clothes. The bride should have the boss togs o'
the two. If we was only back near Nashville she should have a layout
that'd out-rag the Queen o' Sheby, if it took every cent there was in
the company. But I don't suppose you could buy a yard o' kaliker or a
stitch o' finery within 50 miles o' this clayknob."

"What we might do," said Si reflectively, "would be to give her her
trowso futuriously, so to speak. We've just bin paid off, and hain't had
no chance to spend our money, so that all the boys has some. Every one
o' 'em 'll be glad to give a dollar, which you kin hand her in a little
speech, tellin' her that we intended to present her with her trowso, but
circumstances over which we had no control, mainly the distance to a
milliner shop, prevented, but we would hereby present her with the means
to git it whenever convenient, and she could satisfy herself much better
by picking it out her ownself. You want to recollect that word trowso.
It's the elegant thing for a woman's wedding finery, and if you use it
you'll save yourself from mentioning things that you don't know nothin'
about, and probably oughtn't to mention. My sisters learned it to me. A
girl who'd bin at boarding-school learned them."

"Good idee," said Shorty, slapping his leg. "I'll go right out and
collect a dollar from each of the boys. Say that word over agin, till I
git it sure."

Shorty came back in a little while with his hands full of greenbacks
"Every boy ponied right up the moment I spoke to him," he said. "And the
Captain and Adjutant each gave $5. She's got money enough to buy out the
best milliner shop in this part o' Tennessee."

Next came thoughts of a wedding-supper for the bride's friends. The
Colonel took the view that the large number of recruits which he
expected to gain justified him in ordering the Commissary to issue a
liberal quantity of rations. Two large iron wash-kettles were scoured
out one used to make coffee in and the other to boil meat, while there
was sugar and hardtack in abundance. The mountains were covered with
royal blooms of rhododendron, and at the Adjutant's suggestion enough of
these were cut to fill every nook and corner of the main room of the
house, hiding the rough logs and dark corners with masses of splendid
color, much to the astonish ment of the bride, who had never before
thought of rhododendrons as a feature of house adornment.

Then, just before 6 o'clock roll-call, Co. Q, with every man in it
cleaned up as for dress-parade, with Nathan Hartburn at the head,
supported on either side by Si and Shorty, and flanked by the Adjutant
and Chaplain, marched up the hill to the house, led by the fifers and
drummers, playing the reveille, "When the Cruel War is Over," "Yankee
Doodle," and everything else in their limited repertory which they could
think as at all appropriate to the occasion. The rest of the regiment,
with most of the officers, followed after.

The Chaplain took his place in front of the rhododendron-filled
fireplace. The bride and groom stood before him, with Si and Shorty in
support. All of Co. Q crowded into the room, and the rest looked through
the windows and doors. The Chaplain spoke the words which made the young
couple man and wife, and handed them a certificate to that effect.
Shorty then advanced, with his hand full of greenbacks, and said:

"Missis Hartburn: Co. Q of the 200th Ind., of which you are now a brevet
member, has appointed me to present their congratulations. We extend to
you the right hand of fellership of as fine a crowd o' soldiers as ever
busted caps on any field of battle. We're very glad to have your young
husband with us. We'll take care of him, treat him right, and bring him
back to you crowned with the laurels of victory. You just bet your life
we will. That's our way o' doin' things. Madam, Co. Q very much wished
to present you with a trou\x97 trou\x97 tro\x97 what is that blamed word, Si?"

"Trowso," whispered Si\x97

"with a trowso," continued Shorty, "but circumstances and about 150 mile
o' mud road over which we have no control prevented. To show, though,
that we really meant business, and ain't givin' you no wind, we have
collected the skads for a regular 24-carat trow\x97 trous\x97 trows\x97 trou\x97
tro\x97 (blamed the dinged word, what is it, Si?)"

"Trowso," prompted Si

"for a regler 24-carat trowso which I have the pleasure o' putting in
your lily-white hands, at the same time wishin' for the company, for you
and your husband, all happiness and joy in your married 'life. No more,
from yours truly."

Shorty's brow was beaded with perspiration as he concluded this
intellectual effort and handed the bride the money, which she accepted,
as she had done everything else on that eventful day, as some thing that
she was expected to do. The company applauded as if it had been a speech
by Daniel Webster, and then the supper-table was attacked.

Then came pipes, and presently the brigade band came over and serenaded.
A fiddle was produced from somewhere, and a dance started. Suddenly came
the notes of a drum in camp.

"Early for tattoo, ain't it?" said they, looking inquiringly at one
another.

"That's no 'tattoo," said Shorty; "that's the long roll. Break for camp,
everybody."



CHAPTER XI. THE MOUNTAIN FOLK THE SHADOW OF AN EAST TENNESSEE VENDETTA.

THE long roll turned out to be occasioned by the burning of a Union
Tennesseean's house by a squad of revengeful guerrillas, but the
regiment had to stay under arms until a party of cavalry went out and
made an investigation. The men stacked their arms, and lay around on the
ground to get what sleep was possible, and which was a good deal, for
the night was pleasant, and there are worse beds than the mossy hillside
on a July night.

"Too bad that your weddin' night had to be broken up so," said Si
sympathetically, as he and Shorty and the bridegroom sat together on a
knoll and watched the distant flames. "But you needn't 've come with us
this time; nobody expected you to."

"Why, I s'posed this wuz part o' the regler thing," answered Nate in
amazement. "I s'posed that wuz the way yo'uns allers married folkses in
the army. Allers something happens at weddin's down hyah. Mos' ginerully
hit's a free fout betwixt the young fellers o' the bride's an'
bridegroom's famblies, from 'sputin' which fambly's made the best match.
When Brother Wils married Becky Barnstable we Hartburn boys said that
Wils mout-ve looked higher. The Barnstable boys done tuk hit up, an'
said the Barnstables wuz ez good ez the Hartburns ary day in the week,
an' at the weddin' Nels Barnstable had his eye gouged out, Ike
Barnstable wuz knocked down with a flail, an' had what the doctor called
discussion o' the brain, and ole Sandy Barnstable cut off Pete
Hartburn's ear with a bowie. They-uns reopened the argyment at the
infair, an' laid out two o' the Hartburns with ox-gads. I don't think
they orter used ox-gads. Tain't gentlemanly. D'ye think so? Knives, an'
pistols, an' guns, an' even flails an' axes, is all right, when you
can't git nothin' better, but I think ox-gads is low an' onery."

Si and Shorty looked at the gentle, drawling, mild-eyed young
Tennesseean with amazement. A young girl could not have seemed softer or
more pliant, yet he quietly talked of savage fighting as one of the most
casual things in life.

"Well," said Shorty, "if that's the way you celebrat weddin's and in-
fairs down here in Tennessee, I don't wonder that you welcome a battle
for a change. I think I'd prefer a debate with guns to one with axes and
flails and anything that'd come handy. It's more reg'ler to have umpires
and referees, and the thing conducted accordin' to the rules of the P.
R. Then when you git through you know for sure who's licked."

"Jist 'cordin' t' how one's raised," remarked Nate philosophically.
"I've allers done seed a big furse o' some kind at a weddin'. Don't all
yo'uns have none at yo'uns's weddin's?"

"Nothin' worse'n gittin' the girl's dad to consent," answered Shorty,
"and scratchin' 'round to git the money to git married on to buy a new
suit o' clothes, fee the preacher, pay for the license, and start
housekeepin'. That's enough for one lifetime."

"Well, mam an' the gals made Wils's weddin' cloze," said Nate
reflectively. "He had his own sheep, which he sheared in the Spring.
They'uns carded, spun, dyed, an' wove the wool themselves, an' made him
the purtiest suit o' cloze ever seed on the mountings."

"Your mother and sisters goin' to make your weddin' suit, Si?" asked
Shorty. "What'd he have to pay for the license?"

"License? What's that?" asked Nate.

"License? Why, a license," explained Si, "is something you git from the
County Clerk. It's leave to git married, and published in the County
paper."

"Don't have t' have no leave from nobody down here t' git married. Hit's
nobody's business but the man's an' the gal's, an' they'uns's famblies.
Some times other folkses tries t' stick their noses in, but they'uns git
sot down upon."

"What'd he pay the preacher?" asked Shorty.

"Why, mam gin his wife a hank o' fine stockin' yarn, an' dad gin him a
couple sides o' bacon."

"At present prices o' pork in Injianny," remarked Si, after a little
mental figuring, "that wasn't such a bad fee."

"If you speak to the Captain," suggested Si, "he'll let you go back home
to your wife. I don't believe there's goin' to be anything special to-
night. The cavalry don't seem to be stirrin' up nothin out there."

"I don't keer t'," said Nate, in his sweet, girlish drawl. "Ruther stay
with yo'all. Mout somethin' happen. Biff Perkins an' his gang o'
gorillers is out thar somewhar, not fur off, huntin' a chance fur
deviltry. I'd like mouty t' git a whack at they'uns. Nance'll keep.
She's mine now, fast an' good, for ever, an'll wait fur me. Afore we wuz
spliced I wuz afeered Zach Barnstable mout work some contrivance t' git
her, but now she belongs t' me."

The boys took him to their hearts more than ever.

At the coming of the early dawn the regiment was aroused and marched
back to camp, there to meet orders to move forward at once, as soon as
breakfast was prepared and eaten. Away it marched for the Tennessee
River, behind which Bragg was supposed to be gathering his forces for
the defense of Chattanooga.

As Co. Q went by the cabin, Grandfather Onslow was seated in a rocking-
chair on the porch, smoking a cob pipe, while Mrs. Nancy Onslow
Hartburn, with her finger bashfully in her mouth, peeped around the
corner. Co. Q gave her a cheer, at which she turned and fled out of
sight, as if it was some raillery on her newly-married state, and Nate
hung down his head, as if he, too, felt the boys were poking fun at him.

"Good-by, boys. Lick the life outen Ole Bragg," quavered Grandfather
Onslow, waving his hand after them.

"That's what we're goin' to do," shouted the boys in reply.

"Well," said Si, "I bet if ever I'm married I'll kiss my wife before I
go away."

"Me, too," echoed Shorty, very soulfully.

Shorty and Si considered Nate Hartburn their special protege, and were
deeply anxious to transform him into a complete soldier in the shortest
possible time. He was so young, alert, and seemingly pliable, that it
appeared there would be no difficulty in quickly making him a model
soldier. But they found that while he at once responded to any
suggestion of a raid or a fight, drill, discipline and camp routine were
bores that he could be induced to take only a languid interest in.
Neither Si nor Shorty were any too punctilious in these matters, but
they were careful to keep all the time within easy conversational
distance of the regulations and tactics. Naturally, also, they wanted
their pupil to do better than they did. But no lecturing would prevent
young Hartburn from slouching around camp with his hands in his pockets
and his head bent. He would not or could not keep step in the ranks, nor
mark time. While Si was teaching him he would make a listless attempt to
go through the manual of arms, but he would make no attempt to handle
his gun the prescribed way after the lesson was ended. Si was duly
mindful of the sore time he himself had in learning the drill, and tried
to be very considerate with him, but his patience was sorely tried at
times.

"For goodness' sake, Nate," Si would say irritably, "try to keep step.
You're throwin' everybody out."

"'Tain't my fault, Si," Nate would reply with a soft drawl. "Hit's
theirs. I'm walkin' all right, but they'uns hain't. Jaw them. What's the
sense o' walkin' so' close together, anyway? Yo' don't git thar no
sooner."

Then again:

"Great jumpin' Jehosephat, Nate, will you never learn the right way to
hold your gun when you present arms? You must turn the trigger outside,
not the hammer."

"O, Jeminy, what difference does hit make? I never kin recollect hit,
an' what's the use o' tryin'? Can't see no sense in holdin' a gun
straight up an' down that-a-way, anyway, an' if yo' do, hain't one side
jest as good as t'other?"

He was so obdurate that the boys would some times be provoked to sharp
words to him, but his gentle speech would quickly disarm them again, and
make them feel penitent.

At last the 200th Ind. came out upon the crest of Waldron's Ridge,
overlooking the Tennessee River, which wound and turned amid the
towering mountains like a band of bright silver traversing the giant
billows of green. Everyone caught his breath at the sight, for beyond
the stream were rebel camps, and moving trains and long, lines of
marching men. Was all of Bragg's army gathered over there to dispute the
passage or was a part still this side of the river, ready to pounce on
our heads of columns as they meandered down the mountain?

The brigade was closed up, information sent to the Division Commander,
and the 200th Ind. pushed to the front to develop whatever might be
there. Si with Shorty and some others were sent ahead to feel for the
enemy.

"Take him along?" asked Si of Shorty in a low tone, with a nod toward
Nate, as they were making up the squad.

"Don't know," answered Shorty. "If ever in the world, we want men with
us to-day who don't git rattled, and make a holy show o' theirselves
before the regiment, but'll keep cool, watch their chances, and obey
orders. Guess we'd better leave him behind."

"Seems to me," said Si, trying vaguely to recall his Scriptual readings,
"that the Bible says some thing agin takin' a newly-married man right
into battle just after he's married."

He looked around again, saw Nate taking his place along with the other
men selected, and called out:

"Here, Nate, fall back to the company. You can't go along."

"Please, Mister Si, le' me go along," begged Nate, in the soft tones of
a girl asking for a flower. "I'll be good. I'll hold my gun straight,
an' try t' keep step."

"No, you can't go., This 's partickler business, and we want only
experienced men with us. Better fall back to the company."

"Go ahead, there, Corporal," commanded the Adjutant. "Time's passing. We
must move."

Si deployed his men and entered the dense woods which curtained the view
and shrouded the enemy. It was one of those deeply anxious moments in
war, when the enemy is in ambush, and the next instant, the next step
may develop him in deadly activity.

Si was on the right of his line and Shorty on the left, and they were
pushing forward slowly, cautiously, and with every sense strained to the
extremity of alertness.

So dense was the foliage overhead that it was almost a twilight in the
forest depths they were penetrating, and Si's eyes were strained to keep
track of the men moving on his left, and at the same time watch the
developments in front. He had noticed that he was approaching a little
opening some distance ahead, and that beyond it was a dense thicket of
tall laurels. Then he thought he heard a low whistle from Shorty, and
looked far to the left, while continuing to walk forward.

Suddenly he was startled by a shot a little to his rear and left. Then a
shot answered from the laurel thicket, he saw the bushes over there stir
violently, and he heard Nate's voice say:

"He wuz layin' for yo', Si, an' come nigh a-gittin' yo', but I think I
must've at least creased him, from the wild way he shot back. Le's go
forrard an' see."

"I thought I told you to stay back," said Si, more intent on military
discipline than his escape.

"I know yo' did done hit, but I couldn't mind, an' tagged 'long arter
yo'."

"How'd you know he wuz there?"

"I done seed the bushes move over his head. I knowed jest how he wuz a-
layin' for yo'. Le's go forrard an' git him."

Si and Nate ran across the open space to the laurels, and found a little
ways in a bushwhacker staggering from pain and loss of blood from a
wound in his hip, and making labored efforts to escape.

"I done hit him; I done fetched him; I done knowed jist whar he wuz,"
exclaimed Nate with boyish exultation.

At the sound of his voice the bushwhacker turned around upon him an
ugly, brutal face, full of savage hatred.

"Why, hit's bad ole Wash Barnstable, what burnt daddy's stable with two
horses, an' shot brother Wils through the arm. I'll jist job him in the
heart with my bayonet," screamed the boy as he recognized the face. His
own features became transfigured with rage, and he began fixing his
bayonet. Si pushed forward and caught the bushwhacker by the shoulder
and tore the gun from his hand. Nate came springing up, with his bayonet
pointed directly at the man's heart. Si saw it in time to thrust it
aside, saying in wrathful astonishment:

"Nate, you little scoundrel, what do you mean? Would you kill a wounded
man?"

"Suttenly I'll done kill him," screamed the boy in a a frenzy of rage.
"Why not? He desarves hit, the hell-hound. All of us Hartburns 've said
we'd done kill him the minnit we laid eyes on him. Now that I've got him
I'm gwine t' finish him."

He made another vicious lunge at the man with his bayonet.

"Indeed you're not," said Si, releasing his hold on the prisoner and
catching Nate's gun. "You mustn't kill a wounded man, you young
wildcat."

'you Must'nt Kill a Wounded Man 143

"Why not?" shouted the boy, beside himself with rage. "He's done killed
lots o' men. He'll kill more if yo' let him go. He wuz layin' t' kill
yo'. Air yo' gwine t' gin him another chance to down yo'?"

Si wrested the gun from him. Two or three other boys who had been
attracted by the shot came up at this moment. Si gave the prisoner into
the charge of one of them, with instructions to take him to the rear.
Nate released his hold on his gun and made a jump for the one which the
other boy had stood against a tree when he started to take hold of the
prisoner. Again Si was too quick for him. He was by this time so angry
that he was in the mood to give Nate a severe lesson, but the Adjutant,
had ridden forward, called out:

"Go ahead, there, Corporal. We're just behind you."

"Pick up your gun, there, Nate, and come along with me, if you kin
behave yourself. There's work much more important than killin' wounded
bushwhackers. Come along, this minute."

Nate hesitated a moment, then picked up his gun with a vengeful look at
the prisoner.

"I'll kill him yit. Mebbe I'll git a chance this evenin' yit," said he,
and followed Si.



CHAPTER XII. SI AND SHORTY IN LUCK THEY MAKE A BRIEF VISIT TO "GOD'S
COUNTRY."

THE shot fired by Nate Hartburn was the only one that interrupted the
progress of the 200th Ind. to the banks of the Tennessee River. Its
cautious advance at last brought it out on the crest of a hill, at the
foot of which, 200 feet below, flowed the clear current of the mountain-
fed stream. The rebels were all on the other side. Their pickets could
be plainly seen, and they held the further pier of the burned railroad
bridge. To our right rose three strong forts, built the year previous.

As soon as it was determined that all the enemy were beyond the river,
the 200th Ind. went into camp for the afternoon and night upon a cleared
spot which had been used for that purpose before our troops had been
flanked out of that country by Bragg's raid into Kentucky just a year
before.

A dress parade was ordered at 6 o'clock, and when the Adjutant came to
"publish the orders," the regiment was astonished and Si electrified to
hear:

"In pursuance of orders from Division Headquarters to detail squads from
each of the different regiments to proceed to their respective States to
bring back recruits and drafted men for the regiments, First Lieut.
Bowersox, of Co. A, and Corp'l Josiah Klegg, of Co. Q, with six enlisted
men of that company, to be selected by Capt. McGillicuddy, are here by
detailed for that duty, and will prepare to leave to-morrow morning."

Si clutched his partner in his excitement and said, "Shorty, did you
hear that? I'm to be sent back to Injianny. Ain't that what he said?"

"If my ears didn't mistake their eyesight, them was about his words,"
returned Shorty. "You're in luck."

"And you're goin' with me, Shorty."

"The Adjutant didn't include that in his observations. I ain't so crazy,
anyway, to git back to Injianny. Now, if it wuz Wisconsin it'd be
different. If you've got any recruits to bring on from Wisconsin, I'm
your man. I'd go up there at my own expense, though I don't s'pose that
Rosecrans could spare me just now. What'd become o' the army if he'd git
sick, and me away?"

"But, Shorty, you are goin'. You must go. I won't go if you don't."

"Don't say won't too loud. You're detailed, and men that's detailed
don't have much choice in the matter.

"You'll probably act sensibly and do whatever you're ordered to do. Of
course, I'd like to go, if we kin git back in time for this sociable
with Mister Bragg. Don't want to miss that. That'll be the he-fight o'
the war, and probably the last battle."

"Nor do I," answered Si; "but the thing won't come off till we git back.
They wouldn't be sending back for the drafted men and recruits except
that they want 'em to help out."

"They'll be a durned sight more in the way than help," answered Shorty.
"We don't need 'em. We've handled Bragg so far very neatly, all by
ourselves, and we don't need anybody to mix into our little job. The
fewer we have the more credit there'll be in lickin' old Bragg and
capturin' Chattanoogy."

The Orderly-Sergeant interrupted the discussion by announcing:

"Here, Shorty, you're one to go with Si. The detail is made by the
Colonel's orders as a compliment to the good work you boys have been
doing, and which the Colonel knows about."

"I always said that the Colonel had the finest judgment as to soldiers
of any man in the army," said Shorty, after taking a minute's pause to
recover from the compliment.

The boys were immediately surrounded by their comrades, congratulating
them, and requesting that they would take back letters and money for
them. The Paymaster had recently visited the regiment, and everybody had
money which he wished to send home. There were also commissions to
purchase in numerable things, ranging from meerschaum pipes to fine
flannel shirts.

"Look here, boys," said Shorty, good-humoredly, "we want to be obligin',
but we're neither a Adams Express Company nor in the gent's furnishin'
line. We've neither an iron safe to carry money nor a pedler's wagon to
deliver goods. John Morgan's guerrillas may jump us on the way home, and
comin' back we'll have to have packs to carry the truck in, and half of
it 'll be stole before we git to the regiment."

But the comrades would not be dissuaded, and be fore Si and Shorty went
to sleep they had between $5,000 and $6,000 of their comrades' money
stowed in various safe places about their personages.

"Great Jehosephat, Si," murmured Shorty, when they sat together in their
tent, after the last comrade had departed, leaving his "wad of
greenbacks," with directions as to its disposition, "I never felt so
queer and skeery in all my life. I wouldn't for the world lose a dollar
of the money these boys have been earnin' as they have this. But how
under heaven are we goin' to make sure of it?"

"I've thought of a way o' makin' sure of to-night," said Si. "I spoke to
the Officer of the Guard, and he'll put a sentinel over us to-night,
so's we kin git a little sleep. I wouldn't shet my eyes, if it wasn't
for that. We'll have to let to-morrow take care of itself."

Shorty lay down and tried to go to sleep, but the responsibility weighed
too heavily on his mind. Presently, Si, who, for the same reason, only
slept lightly, was awakened by his partner getting up.

"What are you up to?" Si asked.

"I've bin thinkin about pickpockets," answered Shorty. "They're an awful
slick lot, and I've thought of a hiding place that'll fool 'em."

He picked up his faithful Springfield, and drawing an envelope with
money out of his shirt-pocket, rolled it up to fit the muzzle of his
gun, and then rammed it down.

"That's Jim Meddler's $10," he said. "I'll know it, because his mother's
name's on the envelope. Here goes Pete Irvin's $20. I know it because it
has his wife's name on it."

He continued until he had the barrel of the gun filled, and then stopped
to admire his cunning.

"Now, nobody but me'd ever thought o' hidin' money in a gun. That's
safe, as least. All I've got to do is to stick to my gun until we git
acrost the Ohio River. But I hain't got the tenth part in; where kin I
put the rest? O, there's my cartridge-box and cap-box. Nobody'll think
o' lookin' there for money."

He filled both those receptacles, but still had fully half his money
left on his person.

"That'll just have to take its chances with the pickpockets," said he,
and returned to his bed, with his gun by his side, and his cap- and
cartridge-boxes under his head.

The morning came, with their money all right, as they assured themselves
by careful examination immediately after reveille.

As they fell in under Lieut. Bowersox to start, their comrades crowded
around to say good-by, give additional messages for the home-folks, and
directions as to their money, and what they wanted bought.

But Shorty showed that he was overpowered with a nervous dread of
pickpockets. He saw a possible light-fingered thief in everyone that
approached. He would let nobody touch him, stood off a little distance
from the rest of the squad, and when any body wanted to shake hands
would hold him stiffly at arm's length.

"Gittin' mighty stuck-up just because the Colonel patted you on the back
a little, and give you a soft detail," sneered one of Co. Q.

"Well, you'd be stuck-up, too," answered Shorty, "if your clothes was
padded and stuffed with other folks' greenbacks, and you was in the
midst o' sich a talented lot o' snatchers as the 200th Injianny. Mind, I
ain't makin' no allusions nor references, and I think the 200th Injianny
is the honestest lot o' boys in the Army o' the Cumberland; but if I
wanted to steal the devil's pitchfork right out o' his hand, I'd make a
detail from the 200th Injianny to do the job, and I'd be sure o' gittin'
the pitchfork. I'll trust you all when you're 10 feet away from me."

The others grinned and gave him a cheer.

When they went to get on board the train Shorty had to change his
tactics. He got Si on his right, the Lieutenant immediately in front of
them, and two trusted boys of the squad directly behind, with strict
injunctions to press up close, allow nobody between, and keep a hawk's
eye on everybody. But both Si and Shorty were breathless with
apprehension till they got through the crowd and were seated in the car,
and a hasty feeling of various lumps about their persons assured them
that their charges were safe. They were in a passenger car, for luck.
The Lieutenant sat in front, Si and Shorty next, and the two trusty boys
immediately behind. They breathed a sigh of relief. As they stood their
guns over against the side of the car, Si suddenly asked:

"Shorty, did you draw your charge before you rammed that money in?"

Shorty jumped to his feet in a shudder of alarm, and exclaimed:

"Great Jehosephat, no. I forgot all about it."

"What's that you're saying about guns?" inquired the Lieutenant, turning
around. "You want to load them, and keep them handy. We're liable to
strike some guerrillas along the way, and we must be ready for them."

"You fellers'll have to do the shootin'," whispered Shorty to Si. "It'll
be a cold day when I bang $150 in greenbacks at any rebel that ever
jumped. I'm goin' to take the cap off en my gun. The jostlin' o' the
train's likely to knock it off at any time, and send a small fortune
through the roof o' the car. I'd take the money out, but I'm afraid o'
tearin' it all to pieces, with the train plungin' so."

He carefully half-cocked his piece, took off the cap, rubbed the nipple
to remove any stray fragments of fulminate, and then let the hammer down
on a piece of wadding taken from his cap.

The long ride to Nashville over the ground on which they had been
campaigning and fighting for nearly a year would have been of deepest
interest to Si and Shorty, as it was to the rest, if they could have
freed their minds of responsibilities long enough to watch the scenery.
But they would give only a cursory glance any say:

"We'll look at it as we come back."

In the crowded depot at Nashville they had an other panic, but the
Provost-Guard kept a gangway clear as soon as it was discovered that
they were on duty.

"You can stack your arms there, boys," said the Sergeant of the Guard,
"and go right over there and get a warm supper, with plenty of coffee."

All but Shorty obeyed with alacrity, and stacked their guns with the
quickness of old and hungry vet erans.

Shorty kept hold of his gun and started with the rest to the supper-
room.

"Here, Injianny," called out the Sergeant, "stack your gun here with the
rest."

"Don't want to ain't goin' to," answered Shorty.

"What's the reason you ain't?" asked the Sergeant, catching hold of the
gun. "Nobody's going to take it, and if they did, you can pick up
another. Plenty of 'em, jest as good as that, all around here."

"Don't care. This is my own gun. I think more of it than any gun ever
made, and I ain't goin' to take any chance of losin' it."

"Well, then, you'll take a chance of losing your supper," answered the
Sergeant, "or rather you'll be certain of it, for the orders are strict
against taking guns into the supper-room. Too many accidents have
happened."

"Well, then," said Shorty stoutly, "I'll do without my supper, though
I'm hungrier than a wolf at the end of a long Winter."

"Well, if you're so infernal pig-headed, you've got to," answered the
Sergeant, nettled at Shorty's obstinacy. "Go back beyond the gunstack,
and stay there. Don't you come nearer the door than the other side of
the stack."

Shorty's dander rose up at once. At any other time he would have
conclusions with the Sergeant then and there. But the remembrance of his
charge laid a repressive hand upon his quick choler, and reminded him
that any kind of a row would probably mean a night in the guard-house,
his gun in some other man's hands, probably lost forever, and so on. He
decided to defer thrashing the Sergeant until his return, when he would
give it to him with interest. He shouldered his gun, paced up and down,
watching with watering mouth the rest luxuriating in a hot supper with
fragrant coffee and appetizing viands, to which his mouth had been a
stranger for many long months. It cost a severe struggle, but he
triumphed.

Si, in his own hungry eagerness, had not missed him, until his own
appetite began to be appeased by the vigorous onslaught he made on the
eatables. Then he looked around for his partner, and was horrified not
to find him by his side.

"Where's Shorty," he anxiously inquired.

Each looked at the other in surprise, and asked:

"Why, ain't he here?"

"No, confound it; he ain't here," said Si, excitedly springing to his
feet; "he has been knocked down and robbed."

Si bolted out, followed by the rest. They saw Shorty marching up and
down as a sentinel sternly military, and holding his Springfield as
rigidly correct as if in front of the Colonel's quarters.

"What's the matter with you, Shorty? Why don't you come in to supper?"
called out Si. "It's a mighty good square meal. Come on in."

"Can't do it. Don't want no supper. Ain't hungry. Got business out
here," answered Shorty, who had gotten one of his rare fits of
considering himself a martyr.

"Nonsense," said Si. "Put your gun in the stack and come in. It's a
bully supper. Best we've had for a year."

"Well, eat it, then," answered Shorty crustily. "I've got something more
important to think of than good suppers."

"O, rats! It's as safe in there as out here. Set your gun down and come
on in."

"This gun shall not leave my side till we're home," said Shorty in a
tone that would have become the Roman sentinel at Pompeii.

"O, I forgot," said Si. "Well, bring it in with you."

"Can't do it. Strictly agin orders to take any guns inside. But leave me
alone. Go back and finish your gorge. I kin manage to hold out somehow,"
answered Shorty in a tone of deep resignation that made Si want to box
his ears.

"That's too bad. But I'll tell you what we can do. I've had a purty good
feed already enough to last me to Looeyville. Let me take your gun. I'll
carry it while you go in and fill up. We hain't much time left."

The fragrance of the coffee, the smell of the fried ham smote Shorty's
olfactories with almost irresistible force. He wavered just a little\x97.

"Si, I'd trust you as I would no other man in Co. Q or the regiment.
I'll\x97"

Then his Spartan virtue reasserted itself:

"No, Si; you're too young and skittish. You mean well, but you have
spells, when\x97"

"Fall in, men," said Lieut. Bowersox, bustling out from a good meal in
the officers' room. "Fall in promptly. We must hurry up to catch the
Looeyville train."

The car for Louisville was filled with characters as to whom there was
entirely too much ground for fear\x97gamblers, "skin-game" men, thieves,
and all the human vermin that hang around the rear of a great army.
Neither of the boys allowed themselves a wink of sleep, but sat bolt
upright the entire night, watching everyone with steady, stern eyes.
They recognized all the rascals they had seen "running games" around the
camps at Murfreesboro, and who had been time and again chased out of
camp even the whisky seller with whom Si's father had the adventure. The
Provost-Guard had been making one of its periodical cleaning-ups of
Nashville, and driving out the obnoxious characters. Several of these
had tried to renew their acquaintance by offering drinks from well-
filled bottles, but they were sternly repulsed, and Shorty quietly
knocked one persistent fellow down with a quick whirl of his gun-barrel.
When Shorty was hungry it was dangerous to trifle with him.

They arrived at Louisville late in the morning, and were hurried across
the river to Jeffersonville. Fortunately they were able to find there an
eating-room where guns were not barred, and Shorty made amends for the
past by ravaging as far as his arms could reach, holding his precious
gun firmly between his knees.

"Say, pardner," said the man who ran the establishment, "I'd much rather
board you for a day than a week. Rebels must've cut off the supply-
trains where you've bin. You're not comin' this way agin soon, air you?
I'm afraid I won't make 'nough this month to pay my rent."

Lieut. Bowersox came in with a telegram in his hand.

"We won't go on to Indianapolis," he said. "I'm ordered to wait here for
our squad, which will probably get here by to-morrow evening."

A wild hope flashed up in Si's mind.

"Lieutenant," he said, "we live right over there in Posey County. Can't
you let us go home? We can make it, and be back here before to-morrow
night."

"I don't know," said the Lieutenant doubtfully, as he mentally
calculated the distance to Posey County. "I hadn't ought to let you go.
Then, you can't have more than an hour or two at home."

"O,' goodness; just think o' havin' one hour at home," ejaculated Si.

"It seems too bad," continued the Lieutenant, moved by Si's earnestness,
"to bring you this near, and not let you have a chance to see your
folks.

"It'll be a risk for me, and there are not many men in the regiment I'd
take it for, but I'll let you go.

"Remember, it'll make a whole lot of trouble for me if you're not here
by to-morrow evening."

"We'll be here by to-morrow evening, if alive," he pledged himself.

"Well, then, go," said the Lieutenant.

Si's head fairly swam, and he and Shorty ran so fast to make sure of the
train that there was a suspicion in the minds of some of the citizens
that they were escaping from their officers.

Si's heart was in a tumult as the engine-bell rang its final warning and
the engine moved out with increasing speed. Every roll of the swift
wheels was carrying him nearer the dearest ones on earth. The landscape
seemed to smile at him as he sped past.

"Isn't this the grandest country on earth, Shorty?" he bubbled over.
"It's God's country for a fact. So different from old run-down, rebel-
ridden Tennessee. Look at the houses and the farms; look at the people
and the live-stock. Look at the towns and the churches. Look at
everything. Here's the country where people live. Down yonder's only
where they stay and raise Cain."

"Yes," admitted Shorty, who had not so much reason for being
enthusiastic; "but the Wisconsin boys say that Wisconsin's as much finer
than Injianny as Injianny's finer'n Tennessee. I'll take you up there
some day and show you."

"Don't believe a dumbed word of it," said Si, hot with State pride. "God
never made a finer country than Injianny. Wisconsin's nowhere."

Then he bethought himself of the many reasons he had for gladness in his
home-coming which his partner had not, and said thoughtfully:

"I wish, Shorty, you wuz goin' home, too, to your father and mother and
sisters, and\x97and best girl. But my father and mother'll be as glad to
see you as if you was their own son, and the girls'll make just as much
of you, and mebbe you'll find another girl there that's purtier and
better, and\x97"

"Stop right there, Si Klegg," said Shorty. "All girls is purty and nice
that is, them that is purty and nice, but some's purtier and nicer than
others. Then, agin, one's a hundred times purtier and nicer than any o'
them. I've no doubt that the girls out your way are much purtier and
nicer'n the general run o' girls, but none o' them kin hold a candle to
that girl up in Wisconsin, and I won't have you sayin' so."

"If we're on time," said Si, by way of changing the subject, "we'll git
to the station about sundown. The farm's about three miles from the
station, and we'll reach home after supper. Pap'll be settin' out on the
front porch, smokin', and readin' the Cincinnati Gazette, and mother'll
be settin' beside him knittin', and the girls'll be clearin' away the
supper things. My, won't they be surprised to see us! Won't there be a
time! And won't mother and the girls fly around to git us something to
eat! Won't they shake up that old cook-stove, and grind coffee, and fry
ham and eggs, and bake biscuits, and git us cool, sweet milk and
delicious butter from the old spring-house, and talk all the time!
Shorty, you never heard my sisters talk, especially when they're a
little excited. Gracious, they'll just talk the ears off both of us."

"Well, if they take after you, they are talkers from Talkville," said
Shorty. "Mill-wheels ain't in it with your tongue, when it gits fairly
started."

The train was on time, and just as the sun was setting behind the fringe
of cottonwoods along Bean Blossom Creek they stopped at the little
station, and started to walk out to the farm. A neighbor who was drawing
a load of tile from the station recognized Si, and begged them to get up
and ride, but the team was too slow for the impatient boys, and they
forged ahead. A thousand well-remembered objects along the road would
have arrested Si's attention were it not for the supreme interest
farther on. At last they came to a little rise of ground which commanded
a view of the house, and there, as Si predicted, sat his father and
mother engaged in smoking, reading and knitting. His first impulse was
to yell with delight, but he restrained himself, and walked as steadily
on as he could to the front gate. Old Towser set up a bark and ran down
the walk, and then changed his note to de lightful yelps of recognition.
Si was so nervous that he fumbled vainly for a minute at the gate-latch,
and while he did so he heard his mother say: "Father, there's a couple
o' soldiers out there." "Wonder if they kin be from Si's company," said
the father, lowering his paper, and looking over his spectacles.

'father, There's a Couple of Soldiers out There.' 159

"Why, it's Si himself," screamed the mother in joyful accents. The next
instant she had sped down the walk quicker than she had ever gone in her
girlhood days, her arms about his neck, and she was crying on his
shoulder.



CHAPTER XIII. MANY HAPPY EVENTS HOURS THAT WERE ALL-TOO-FEW AND ALL-TOO-
SHORT.

THE girls heard their mother's happy scream and rushed out, dish towels
in hand. They at once realized what had happened, piped up their joyous
altos, and precipitated themselves upon Si. The good old Deacon came
trotting down the walk, fidgeting with his spectacles, but so enveloped
was his son with skirts and women's arms and happy, teary faces that he
could not get within arm's length of him. So he turned to Shorty:

"Great day, Shorty, but I'm glad to see you! Come right up on the steps
and set down. How'd you happen to come home. Either of you sick or
wounded?"

"Nope," answered Shorty sententiously. "Both sound as nuts and healthy
as mules."

"Well, come right up on the porch and set down. You must be awful tired.
Le'me carry your gun and things for you."

He took hold of the gun with such a desire to do something that Shorty
was fain to yield it, saying:

"Deacon, you are the first man in about a million betwixt here and the
Tennessee River that I'd let tech that gun. I don't know now of another
man in the United States that I'd trust it with. That 'ere gun is loaded
plum full of other folks's money."

"Goodness, is that so?" said the Deacon, handling the musket with
increased respect. "I've heard o' a bar'l o' money, but never supposed
that it was a gun bar'l."

"And more'n that," continued Shorty, "there's a full-grown cartridge
below that might shoot a war widow's new dress and shoes for the
children off into the moon."

"Goodness gracious!" ejaculated the Deacon, holding out the gun as he
did Si the first time that interesting infant was placed in his hands,
"handlin' other people's money's always ticklish business, but this's a
leetle the ticklishest I ever heard of."

"That's what bin wearin' me down to the bone," responded Shorty soberly,
and as they reached the porch he explained the situation to the Deacon,
who took the gun in the house, and laid it carefully on a bed in the
"spare room."

"Girls, you're smotherin' me! Let up, won't you? Mandy, you dabbed that
wet dishcloth right in my eye then. Maria, I can't talk or even breathe
with your arm over my windpipe. You, dear mother, I'll pick you up and
carry you into the house, if you'll let me," Si was trying to say. "I
can't answer all your questions at once, 'specially when you're shuttin'
off my breath an' dinnin' my ears till I can't hear myself think."

"Le's carry your things up, Si," said Maria, after Si had gotten them
calmed down a little. "You must be awful tired."

Si saw that this would be the best way to keep the girls off, while he
devoted his attention to his mother. He handed his gun and belt to
Maria, who marched on ahead, triumphantly waving her dish-towel as a
gonfalon of victory, while she cheered for the Union in her sweet
contralto. Mandy took possession of his blanket roll and haversack,
while Si almost carried his tearful mother on to the porch. There her
housewifely instinct at once asserted it self.

"I know you and your friend there must jest be starvin'," she said,
gathering herself up. "I never knowed when you wasn't, if you'd bin an
hour from the table."

"Shorty's worse'n me," said Si with a grin. "But I haven't interduced
him yit. Mother, girls, this is Shorty, my pardner, and the best pardner
a feller ever had."

"Glad to know you, Mr. Shorty," said they, shaking his hand. "We've
heard so much of you that we feel that we've knowed you all along."

"Drop the Mister, then," said Shorty. "I'm plain Shorty to everybody
until I'm out o' the army. I've heard so much of you that I feel, too,
that I've bin acquainted with you all my life."

"Girls," commanded the mother, "come on and let's git the boys something
to eat."

"No, mother," pleaded Si, holding fast to her hand. "Let the girls do
it. I want you to sit here and talk to me."

"No, Si," answered the mother, kissing him again, and releasing her
hand, "I must do it myself. I must cook your supper for you. The girls
won't do it half well enough."

She hustled away to the kitchen, and Si and Shorty explained to the
Deacon the circumstances of their visit, and that they must leave by the
next train going east, in order to keep their promise to Lieut.
Bowersox. The Deacon immediately started Abraham Lincoln and the boy on
saddle horses to bring in the neighbors to see the boys, and get the
money that had been sent them. They went into an inner room, carefully
blinded the windows, and began to draw out the money from various
pockets, cartridge-boxes, and other receptacles about their persons.

All drew a long breath of relief when, counting that in Shorty's gun,
every dollar was found to be safe.

"But how in time you're ever goin' to git that money out o' that gun
beats me," said the Deacon, picking up the musket, and gazing dubiously
into the muzzle. "It was a mighty smart thing to do down at the front,
but what are you going to do now, when you want to give the money to the
people it belongs to?"

"It certainly don't seem as smart as it did that night on the banks o'
the Tennessee," Shorty admitted as he fixed his bullet screw on the end
of his rammer, "but I'm goin' to trust to my own smartness and the
Providence that provides for war widows and orphans to git out every
dollar in good shape for them it was intended for."

The bullet-screw brought out the first "wad" easily and all right.

The First Wad Came out Easily and All Right. 165

"Well, Providence is lookin' out for Jim Irvin's wife and children all
right," said Shorty, as they smoothed out the bills and found them
intact.

The next attempt was equally successful, and as Shorty unrolled the
bills he remarked:

"Providence is again overlookin'. There's Jim Beardslee's $50 for his
widowed mother."

"And she needs it, poor woman," said the Deacon. "I've seen that she had
all the meat and wood she's needed since Jim enlisted, and Deacon
Flagler keeps her in flour."

The next offered more difficulty. The rammings on those above had
compacted it pretty solidly. The bullet screw cut off bits of it, and
when finally it was gotten out the $10 bill was in pieces.

"That's Alf Ellerby's gift to his lame sister," said Shorty, as he
ruefully surveyed the fragments. "I'm afraid Providence wasn't mindin'
just then, but I'll give her a good bill out o' my own pocket."

"No, you needn't," said Maria, who had slipped in, fork in hand, to
pinch Si, kiss him, and ask him a question which she did not want Mandy
to hear; "I kin paste that all together with white of egg so's it'll
look as good as ever. I done that with a bill that Towser snatched out
o' my hand and chawed before I could git it away from him. The store
keeper took it and said it was just as good as any. Sophy Ellerby 'd
rather have it that way than a new bill, so long's it comes direct from
Alf."

Again Shorty sent down the bullet screw, and again there was more
tearing off of bits, and finally a mangled $20 bill was dragged forth
and laid aside for Mandy to repair. "Ike Englehardt sent that to his
mother to help take his sister through the Normal School, so's she kin
become a teacher. She'll git that all right. But I've broken my bullet
screw in that wrastle. It snapped clean off, and I've got the worst job
of all now to get out $100 in two 50's that Abe Trelawney sent his
mother to meet that mortgage on her little house. Abe's bin savin' it up
for months, and I was more anxious about it than any other, and so I put
it down first. Si, let me have your bullet-screw."

"Hain't got none. Lost mine weeks ago, while we was on the Tullahomy
march."

"Great Jehosephat! what am I goin' to do?" groaned Shorty, the sweat
starting out on his fore head. "Now's the time for Providence to help
out, if He's goin' to. I'm at the end o' my string."

"Supper's ready, boys; come on in," announced the sweet, motherly voice
of Mrs. Klegg. She seconded her invitation with her arm around Si and a
kiss on his cheek. "Father, bring Shorty, unless he'd rather walk with
the girls."

Shorty was altogether too bashful to take advantage of the direct hint.
Si's lively sisters filled him with a nervous dread of his social
shortcomings. He grew very red in the face, hung back from them, and
caught hold of the Deacon's arm.

"Go slow with him, girls," whispered the Deacon to his daughters, after
they were seated at the table. "He's a mighty good boy, but he ain't
used to girls."

"He's rather good looking, if he does act sheepish," returned Mandy.

"Well, he ain't a mite sheepish when there's serious business on hand,"
returned the father. "And next to ourselves, he's the best friend your
brother has."

It had been many years since the wandering, rough-living Shorty had sat
down to such an inviting, well-ordered table. Probably he never had. No
people in the whole world live better than the prosperous Indiana
farmers, and Mrs. Klegg was known far and wide for her housewifely
talents. The snowy table linen, the spotless dishes, the tastefully-
prepared food would have done credit to a royal banquet. Hungry as he
was, the abashed Shorty fidgeted in his chair, and watched Si begin
before he ventured to make an attack. The mother and girls were too busy
plying Si with questions and anticipating his wants to notice Shorty's
embarrassment.

Si was making a heroic effort to eat everything in sight, to properly
appreciate all the toothsome things that loving hands were pressing upon
him, and to answer the myriad of questions that were showered upon him,
and to get in a few questions of his own at the same time. He just found
time to ask Shorty:

"Say, this is great this 's like livin', ain't it?"

And Shorty replied with deep feeling: "Just out o' sight. How in the
world'd you ever come to enlist and leave all this?"

The neighbors began gathering in fathers, mothers and sisters of members
of Co. Q, all full of eager questions as to their kindred, and this
relieved Shorty, for he could tell them quite as well as Si.

The supper ended, the problem of the money in the gun again loomed up.
Everyone had an opinion as to how to extricate the valuable charge. The
women, of course, suggested hair-pins, but these were tried without
success. A gimlet taken from its handle and secured to the ramrod,
refused to take hold.

Somebody suggested shooting the gun across a pond of water, and getting
the money that way, but it was decided that the force of the Springfield
seemed too great for any body of water in the neighborhood. Then Jabe
Clemmons, the "speculative" genius of the neighborhood, spoke up:

"Gentlemen, I've an idee. Deacon, how much is in that small haystack of
your'n?"

"'Bout 10 tons," answered the Deacon.

"Jest about. Well, I'll pay you the regular market price for it, and
give $100 to Miss Trelawney. Now, let this gentleman stand 50 feet from
it and shoot his gun at it. He mustn't tell none of us where he aims at.
I'll sell you, gentlemen, that hay in 40 quarter-ton lots, commencing at
the top, each man to pay $2 besides the regular price for a quarter ton
o' hay, an' we'll draw numbers as to our turns in takin' the fodder."

"Looks somethin' like gamblin'," demurred the Deacon.

"No more'n church lotteries," answered Jabe, "since it's for a good
purpose. Now, gentlemen, who wants to buy a quarter ton of Deacon
Klegg's first-class hay?"

At once he had replies enough to take the whole stack, but while he was
writing down the names Deacon Klegg had another idea.

"I can't quite git my mind reconciled to gamblin', even for a good
purpose," he said. "And I ain't sure about how the two 50's 'll strike
the haystack. It'd be a sin if they were destroyed, as they are likely
to be. I've another idee. My well there is 25 foot deep. Let's take the
bucket out, and let Shorty shoot his gun straight down into the well. I
believe the money'll come out all right. If it don't I'll make it up
myself, rather than be a party to a gamble."

"May blow the bottom o' your old well out," muttered Jabe Clemmons, who
dearly loved anything in the shape of a game of hazard.

"I'll resk that," said the Deacon. "I kin dig an other well, if
necessary."

The Deacon's proposal was carried. Shorty, holding the butt of his gun
carefully upright, fired down into the well. A boy was lowered in the
bucket, and soon announced by a joyful cry that he had gotten the bills.
Upon being brought up and examined they were found to be uninjured, ex
cept by a slight singeing at the edges.

"Providence's agin managin' things," murmured Shorty gratefully; "but
the Deacon's gumption helped out."

All the money for those not present to receive it in person was turned
over to the Deacon, and then for the first time the boys felt relieved
of a great responsibility.

"There are two trains goin' east," said the Deacon, in response to their
inquiries as to the facilities for returning. "The through express
passes here at 3:15, and it'll git you to Jeffersonville early in the
morning. The accommodation passes about day break, and it'll git you
there in the evenin', if it makes connections, which it often doesn't."

"We must go on the through express," said Si firmly. There was a loud
outcry by the mother and sisters, but the father recognized the demands
of military discipline.

Si began to fidget to get away from the crowd of eager inquirers, which
Mandy noticing, she found opportunity to whisper:

"Don't fret. She'll be here presently."

Si's face burned. He had thought his secret well-kept, but here his
sisters read his thoughts like an open book. He had wanted to go to
Annabel, and have a few golden minutes alone with her. Just what for
just what he would say or do he did not in the least know he could not
imagine. Only he felt that in some way the main interest of his life
depended on seeing her somewhere remote from curious eyes and listening
ears. He wanted to go to her, not to have her come to him, and meet him
in such a throng as was gathered at his home.

While these thoughts were coursing through his mind he heard Maria call:

"Si, come here into my room. I want to show you the purtiest thing you
ever saw."

While Mandy was a most correct young woman, she could not withstand
giving a significant wink to those around, to which they responded with
knowing smiles. These, fortunately, Si did not see. He arose at once,
the people made way, and he was led by Maria to her room. She opened the
door and said:

"There, now, kiss me for a loving sister."

It was a fervent kiss that Si rewarded her with, for, there, rising from
her chair as the door opened, dressed in her best, and her face wreathed
with smiles and blushes, stood Annabel.

"Since you are so mean about goin' away so soon, you can only have 10
minutes together; make the most of it," laughed Maria, and she scudded
back to the sitting-room.

Si stood for an instant dazed. How beautiful she was far more so than
his recollections had painted her. She had blossomed out from the
school-girl into the mature woman, and every feature ripened. Fair as
his home seemed in contrast with the country he had left, she seemed
still fairer in contrast with any woman he had ever seen. Where were the
thousand things that, brooding by the campfire and lying in his tent, he
thought over to say to her when they met? All forgotten or dismissed as
inappropriate. He simply stood and gazed at her. She re covered herself
first, and said teasingly:

"Well, how do you do? Ain't you going to speak? Ain't you glad to see
me?"

Si could only step forward and take her hand, and murmur:

'annabel, How Purty You Look.' 173

"Annabel, how purty you look. How you've growed, and all purtier. I'm
awfully glad to see you. That's what I most wanted to come home for."

Then his face burned with new blushes to think how much he had said.
They sat down, he still holding her hand, with his eyes fixed upon her
face. Somehow, in the mysterious telegraphy of first love, they so fully
understood one another that words were unnecessary.

Speechless, but fuller of happiness than they ever dreamed was possible
in the world, they sat with clasped hands until Maria came back, calling
out:

"Time's up. The folks say that they can't let Annabel have you any
longer. Come into the sitting-room, both of you. Come along, Si. Come
along, Annabel."

Si rose obediently, but Annabel declined to go. She did not say why, but
Maria, with a woman's instincts, knew that she wanted to be alone to
think it all over. Maria therefore hurried back.

"Good-by, Annabel," he said, pressing her hand again. "I'll write to you
first thing when I git back."

"Good-by, Si. God keep you for me, safe through battles and dangers."

She turned away to hide her bursting tears.

It was astonishing how quick midnight came. When the clock striking 12
smote the ears of the family, nobody had said, heard or asked one tithe
of what he or she was burning eager to, yet the parting was but a little
more than two brief hours away.

With a heart heavier even than when she parted from her boy for the
first time, Mrs. Klegg arose, and sought to distract her thoughts by
collecting as big a package as they could carry of the choicest
eatables. How often she stopped to cry softly into her apron not even
the girls knew, for she was resolved to keep up a brave front,
especially before Si, and would carefully wash all traces of tears from
her face, and clear the sobs from her throat before re-entering the room
where he was.

Shorty had at once been taken to the hearts of everyone, and all the
older men urged him to "come back here as soon as the war's over, marry
a nice girl, and settle down among us."

Si received many compliments upon his development into such a fine,
stalwart man.

One after another said:

"Si, what a fine, big man you've growed into. I declare, you're a credit
to your father and mother and the settlement. We all expect you to come
back a Captain or a Colonel, and we'll run you for Sheriff or County
Commissioner, or something as big."

"O, anything but Treasurer," Si would laughingly reply. "I've had enough
handling other folks' money to last me my life."

Presently Abraham Lincoln brought the spring wagon around. Even in the
moonlight Si could see that freedom and the Deacon's tuition had
developed the ex-slave into a much better man than the wretched runaway
whom his father had protected. He wanted to know more of him, but there
were too many demands upon his attention. They all mounted into the
wagon, the bundles were piled in, one last embrace from his mother, and
they drove away, reaching the station just in time to catch the train.
As he kissed Maria good-by she shoved a letter into his hand, saying:

"This is from Annabel. Read it after you git on."

As the train whirled away Si made an excuse to go away from Shorty, and
standing up under the lamp in the next car he read on a tear-stained
sheet:

"Deer Si: I wanted so much to tel you, but the words wooddent come to my
lips, that Ime yours til deth, no matter what happens, and Ime shure you
feel the saim way. Annabel."

Coming back with his heart in a tumult of rapture, he found his partner
fast asleep and even snoring.



CHAPTER XIV. THE FRISKY YOUNGSTERS TRYING TO LICK A BATCH OF RECRUITS
INTO SHAPE.

FOR awhile the tumult of thought kept Si awake, but he was too young,
healthy, and tired for this to last long, and soon he had his head
pillowed on his blanket-roll, placed in the open car-window, and was
sleeping too sound to even dream of Annabel, while the rushing train
pelted his face with cinders from the engine and a hail of gravel from
the road-bed. But what was that to a soldier-boy who had been home, seen
his best girl, and had one of his mother's square meals?

When the train rolled into Jeffersonville in the afternoon, they saw
Lieut. Bowersox on the platform anxiously waiting for them. His face
lighted up with pleasure when he saw them, and eagerly coming forward he
said:

"Great Cesar, boys, but I'm glad you've come. I've been waiting for you
all day. Rush orders came last night to send everybody to the front. I
guess they are in need of every gun they can get. I should have gone
last night, but I managed to stave off my orders till now. If you hadn't
come on this train, though, I should 've had to go on with out you.
Hurry along, now. We are going right across the river."

Despite the Lieutenant's urgency, Si found time to hand him a jar of
honey and a small crock of butter from their home supplies, which he
received with proper appreciation, and handed over to the grinning negro
boy he had picked up somewhere in Tennessee for a servant. They followed
the Lieutenant to where he had his squad of about 100 recruits gathered.
He said:

"Here, Klegg, you will act as Orderly-Sergeant, and Shorty and the rest
of you as Sergeants of this detachment. Here is the list of them, Klegg.
Make up a roll and call it whenever I order you to do so."

Si took the list and looked over the crowd. They were mainly boys of
about the same age and style as himself when he first enlisted, but he
thought he had never seen so green, gawky a lot in the world. Like him
then, every one was weighted down with a bundle of things that would
evidently be contributed to the well-being of the people along the line
of march.

It seemed to him that they stood around the platform in as ugly
crookedness as a lodgment of driftwood on a Wabash bottom after a
freshet.

"Where on the Wea prairies," muttered Shorty, "did Old Abe pick up that
job lot o' wind shaken, lopsided saplings? Must've bin pulled when green
and warped in the dryin'."

"Well, we've got to git 'em into some sort o' shape," answered Si. "You
must help."

"I help?" returned Shorty despairingly. "You'll need a West Point
perfessor and a hay-press to git that crowd into soldier shape. I ain't
once."

"Here, Sergeant," ordered Lieut. Bowersox, "line the men up, count them,
learn their names, and give them a little preliminary drill, while I go
to Headquarters and see the Colonel again about our transportation."

"Fall in, boys; fall in," commanded Si.

The crowd looked at him curiously. They knew that he wanted them to do
something, they were willing to do it, but they hadn't the slightest
idea what it was. They made a move by huddling up a little toward him.

"Fall in in two ranks, with the right here," shouted Si.

There was more inconsequent huddling, which seemed so purposely awkward
that it irritated Si, and he spoke sharply:

"Gosh all Krismuss, what's the matter with you lunkheads? Don't you know
nothing? You're dummer'n a lot o' steers."

"Guess we know 'bout as much as you did when you first enlisted," said
the smallest of the lot, a red-cheeked, bright-eyed boy, who looked as
if he should have been standing up before a blackboard "doing a sum" in
long division, instead of on his way to the field of strife. "Show us
how, and we'll learn as quick as you did."

Si looked at the fresh young boy. There was something actually girlish
in his face, and it reminded him of Annabel. His heart softened toward
him at once, and he remembered his own early troubles. He said gently to
the boy:

"You're right. What's your name, my boy?"

"Abel Waite."

"Well, Abel, we'll make a soldier out of you in a little while. You are
the smallest; you'll be the left of the line. Go and stand there at the
corner. Now, boys, all lay your bundles down. Here, you tall fellow,
what's your name?"

"James Bradshaw."

"Well, Bradshaw, you'll be the right of the line all the time, and the
rest 'll form on you. Come, stand here."

Bradshaw shambled forward in a way that made Shorty call out:

"Here, Bradshaw, wake up! You ain't now follerin' a plow over the last
year's corn-furrers. Straighten up, lift them mud-hooks livelier and
drop your hands to your side."

The man stopped, raised his hands, and looked at Shorty with his mouth
wide open.

"Come, Bradshaw," said Si gently, taking hold of him, "I'll show you.
Now you stand right here. Put your heels together. Now turn your toes
out. Throw your shoulders back this way. Close your mouth. Put your
little fingers on the seams of your pantaloons that way. Now stand just
so."

The poor man looked as miserable as if put in a strait-jacket, but tried
to literally obey instructions.

"Now, what's your name?" Si asked the next tall est man.

"Simeon Wheelwright."

"Wheelwright, you stand behind Bradshaw, just as he does."

And so Si went painstakingly through the whole squad until he came to
Abel Waite, whom he found did not need any instruction, for he had
profited by hearing the lectures to the others, and was standing as
stiff and correct as a veteran could have done.

"Great outfit," remarked Shorty, walking down the line, gun in hand, and
surveying it critically. "Looks like a mourners' bench froze stiff.
Here, you red-headed man there, take in that corporation. You won't have
so much bay window after you've lived on army rations awhile."

"Now," commanded Si, "when I say 'Count twos from the right,' I want you
to begin and count. The first man you, Bradshaw says 'one,' and the next
man on your left says 'two' and so on. The men in the rear rank do the
same. Count twos from the right Count!"

"One, two; four, six; seven, nine; ten, 'leven," shouted the boys, in
all manner of tones and general bewilderment.

"Stop it; stop it!" yelled Si, his temper again rising. "Great day,
can't you fellers understand plain English when it's talked to you?
What's the matter with you, anyway? Here, Bradshaw, when I give the
order to count, you count one. Wheel wright, you count one at the same
time. Williams and Talbot, you each count two. Then Aldrich, you and
Reynolds count one, and so on."

At last he got them to count to his satisfaction, and then proceeded to
the next lesson.

"Now, at the command 'right face' everybody face to the right. The No. 1
men in the front rank stand fast. The No. 1 men in the rear rank take a
side step to the right. The No. 2 men each take a side step to the
right, and places himself on the right of No. 1."

"Great Jehosephat, Si," remonstrated Shorty; "it'll take 'em a month to
learn all that."

"Don't care if it does," said Si desperately. "They've got to learn it
sometime, and they can't learn no younger. Might as well begin now as
any time. 'Tention! Right face!"

Si had hard work restraining the angry words which fumed up when he saw
the execution of his command. Only a few had turned to the right. The
rest had either stood still, turned to the left or were turning first
one way and then another, to adjust themselves to those nearest them.

"Looks like a political primary just before the vote's called," remarked
Shorty. "Better git red rags to tie around their right hands, so's
they'll know 'em."

"It'll be a shame to take them across the Ohio river in this shape,"
said Si in deep vexation. "They'll shoot one another's heads off in the
first fight, if they've guns in their hands."

"Don't worry," answered Shorty consolingly. "They'll pick it up mighty
fast as soon as they see other fellers doing it, and 'll be in purty
good shape by the time we git 'em to the regiment. We was just as green
as they are."

Si repressed his petulant words with an effort, and started in to give
them an ocular demonstration of the way to execute "right face," but was
interrupted by the Lieutenant coming up and saying:

"Here, we've got to move right out to catch the ferryboat and the train
on the other side. 'Tention! Pick up your bundles. Forward, march!"

The Recruits Lined up on the Platform. 186

Tactics were forgotten in a go-as-you-please rush on to the ferryboat,
through the streets of Louisville, and on to the cars for Nashville.
Everybody else was doing the same. The boat and streets were filled and
the depot yard packed with men all pushing forward for the "front."
While Si, walking alongside the Lieutenant, led, Shorty and the rest of
the detail brought up the rear. After they had scrambled into the old
freight cars and stowed them selves away, Si looked over his squad and
counted it.

"Have you got them all aboard, Sergeant?" in quired Lieut. Bowersox.

"I've got the right number, sir," Si answered, saluting; "and if they
ain't all the same men they're just as good."

"All right," returned the officer. "I had 103 put in my charge to take
to the regiment, and 103 men I must have when I get there."

"You shall have the full 103, Lieutenant," assured Shorty, "if we have
to snatch in a native or two to take the place of some that fall through
the cracks."

At Nashville the crowd and confusion were excessive; detachments of men
of all kinds, sorts and conditions armed and unarmed recruits,
convalescent veterans, men coming back from furlough, stragglers under
guard, squads of Quartermaster's employees, gangs of railroad laborers
and bridge-builders were all surging around, while their officers,
superintendents, foremen, etc., shouted themselves hoarse in trying to
get their men together and keep them so. When Si at last got his men on
board, and the train had moved out, he was dismayed to find that he was
five short.

"They was lost in that shuffle back there in the depot," said Shorty.
"Lucky it wa'n't more. Wonder that we ever got through as well as we
did."

"What in the world am I going to do?" inquired Si dolefully. "There's no
use sending back for them. They've probably got mixed up with some other
squads, and gone the Lord knows where. They haven't sense enough to find
their regiment in such a ruck as this."

Si counted his men over again, with no better result.

"I've got an idee," said Shorty, as Si came up to commune again with him
as to the misfortune. "I noticed five mighty lively young Irishmen in
that bridge gang that's on the rear car, and I've got a pint flash of
whisky that some fellow was green enough to lay down while we was there
in Nash ville. I'm goin' back to that car on recruitin' duty."

Si, unable to think of anything better, went with him. The train had
stopped on a switch, and seemed likely to rust fast to the rails, from
the way other trains were going by in both directions. The bridge gang,
under charge of a burly, red-faced young Englishman, was in the rear
car, with their tools, equipments, bedding and cooking utensils.

The English foreman was a recent arrival in the country. This was his
first employment here. Naturally surly and domineering, these qualities
were enhanced by potations at Nashville and since leaving.

Si and Shorty strolled up to the young Irishmen, who were standing on
the ground near their car. They were very plainly recent arrivals, for
they still wore the characteristic clothes of the Emerald Isle, and
after a little conversation with them Shorty produced his bottle and
offered them a drink. The foreman had watched them suspiciously, and he
came swaggering up, saying insolently:

"'Ere, you bloomin' sojer, Hi want you to keep haway from my men, hand
not be a-givin' them drink. You stay by yourselves, hand Hi won't 'ave
'em hinterfered wi' by nobuddy."

"Your men," sneered Shorty. "You talk as if they was niggers, and not
white men. Who made 'em yours?"

"Stow yer wid, ye bloody blue-jack," returned the foreman
contemptuously, "hand pull ha way from here. Hi never could bear sojers
blokes, too lazy to work hand too cowardly to steal. Hike out o' here,
and shut you 'ead, hif you know w'at's well for you."

"Shut up your own head, you British blowhard," retorted Shorty, "and
mind your own business. Wait until you are a little longer in the
country be fore you try to run it. And I don't want no more o' your
slack. If you don't keep a civil tongue in your head I'll make you."

The Englishman was just in the mood to be savagely tickled at the
prospect of a fight. He had not had a good, square one since he had been
in the country, and nothing yet had offered so gratifying as the
prospect of polishing off one of the despised "Hamerican sojers."
Several of the hated officers had strolled up, attracted by the high
words, and it would be an additional pleasure to thrash one of their men
before their eyes, in revenge for the slights he felt they had put upon
him.

"You won't fight," he said disdainfully, "except with a gun or a knife,
like a bloody Dago. Ye dassent put up yer 'ands like a man."

For response, Shorty handed his cap, his gun, his bottle, his blanket-
roll, his belt and haversack to Si, rolled up his sleeves, spit on his
hands, doubled his fists, and stepped forward into a boxing attitude.

"Balance up to me, you beer-bloated Britisher," he exclaimed, "and git
naturalized by a real Star-Spangled Banner lickin' by an artist who kin
comb down any man that owes allegiance to Queen Victoree. Here's a
Heenan for your Tom Sayers."

The Englishman began disrobing with an alacrity that showed how much his
heart was in it. A ring was speedily formed, the officers, mainly
Lieutenants and Captains, eagerly assisting, while keeping their eyes
over their shoulders to see that no one of much higher rank was in the
neighborhood.

When the men confronted one another it was seen that they were a fairly-
good match. The English man was stouter and heavier; he showed a
splendid forearm, with corresponding swelling muscles near the
shoulders, and the way he poised himself and put up his hands revealed
that he had "science" as well as strength and courage. Shorty was taller
and more spare, but he was quicker and had the longer reach. It looked
as if the Englishman had the advantage, from his solid strength and
staying power, as well as "science." But those who looked on Shorty as
inferior did not know of the training he had received among the
turbulent crews of the Mississippi River boats. A man who had summered
and wintered with that fractious race had little to learn in any trick
or device of fighting.

The first round showed that both were past-masters of ring tactics.
Their wardings and layings for openings were so perfect that neither
could get a blow in.

When they stopped for a moment to breathe the Englishman said with frank
admiration:

"Y're a heap better lot than Hi thort yer. Where'd ye learn to handle
yer dukes?"

"Never mind where I learned," answered Shorty. "I learned enough to git
away with any English man that ever chawed roast beef."

Again they closed, and sparred quick and hard for advantage, but neither
succeeded in getting in any thing but light, ineffective blows. Each
realized that the other was a dangerous man to handle, and each kept
cool and watched his chances. When they took another second to breathe
the Englishman said:

"I'm goin' to settle ye this time, young feller, in spite o' yer
fibbin'. Ye peck around me like a cock pickin' up corn, but I'll bust
ye. Look hout for yerself."

He made a savage rush to break through Shorty's guard by main force, but
Shorty evaded him by a quick movement, the Englishman struck his toe
against a piece of railroad iron, and fell to his knees. Shorty had him
at his mercy, but he merely stepped back a little further, and waited
for his opponent to rise and regain his position before he again
advanced to the attack.

The Englishman lost his coolness. Again he rushed savagely at Shorty,
with less care in his guard. Shorty evaded his mighty blow, and reaching
up under his guard struck him on the chin so hard that the Englishman
fell like an ox.

Shorty took him by the hand and helped him to his feet. "Do you want any
more? Have you got enough?" he asked.

"Yes, Hi've got enough," answered the English man. "I'm too groggy to go
on. Hi've been drink-in' a bit too much to 'andle myself wi' a first-
class man like yerself. Y've downed me, and y've downed me fair, for
Hi'm not the man to whimper about not being fit. There's my hand. We're
friends. We'll try hit again some day, when Hi've got the likker out o'
me; won't we?"

"Certainly, whenever you like," said Shorty, shak ing hands with him.

"Say, cul," said the Englishman, in the friendliest sort of way, "w'at
was ye wantin' around among my men?"

"To tell you the truth," answered Shorty, "I was after them to enlist
with us. We lost five men in the shuffle at Nashville, and I was lookin'
out for some to take their places.

"That's w'at I thort," said the Englishman. "That's w'at I was afraid
of. The 'ead bridge man 'as bin preachin' to me ever since 'e 'ired me,
hand we made hup the gang in New York, to look hout hand keep my men
from bein' enlisted. Say, youngster, his yours a good regiment?"

"The very best in the army," unhesitatingly as serted Shorty. "All free-
born American citizens, and high-toned gentlemen. I tell you, they're
daisies, they are."

"Hi don't 'know," said the Englishman meditatively, "but Hi'd like to
see a little bit o' fightin' myself. Bridge buildin's 'eavy, 'ard work,
and Hi wouldn' mind sojerin' a little while for a change."

"Come right along with me and this man," said Shorty catching on.
"You'll see the purtiest fighting to be found anywhere in the army, for
the 200th Injianny kin do it up to the Queen's taste. And we'll treat
you white. A better set o' boys never lived."

"Hi'll do hit," said the Englishman decidedly.

"Mebbe," suggested Shorty, remembering that this would still leave them
four short, "some o' your gang'd like to come along with you."

"Some o' them," said the Englishman earnestly. "Hevery bloomin' one o'
them 'as got to go. They've got to volunteer. Hif Hi find hany cowardly
bloke that'd rather be a beastly bridge-builder than a gentleman and a
sojer, I'll pound 'is 'ead offen 'im. They'll all volunteer, I tell ye,
w'en Hi speak to 'em."

Si had been quietly talking to the rest of the gang while this
conversation was going on, and discovered a general willingness to
exchange mechanical pursuits for those of a more martial character, and
so when they left the train at Chattanooga, Lieut. Bowersox marched at
the head of 130 recruits, instead of the 103 with whom he had crossed
the Ohio River.



CHAPTER XV. KEYED UP FOR ACTION MARCHING INTO THE BATTLE OF CHICKAMAUGA.

ALL of that eventful 19th of September, 1864, the men of Lieut.
Bowersox's detachment were keyed up with the knowledge that they were
heading straight for a desperate battle, and the main fear with Si,
Shorty and the great majority was that they would not reach the field in
time to take a hand in the affray. It seemed that never ran a locomotive
at such a snail's pace as their engine was compelled to do over the
wretched road bed and improvised bridges. The engineer, stimulated by
the excitement and the urgent messages at every station, was doing his
very best, but his engine was ditched once and narrowly escaped it a
hundred times. The only curb to their impatience was the absolute
knowledge that an attempt at faster running would result in not getting
there in time at all.

At every stopping place news from the front was eagerly sought for and
canvassed. It was at all times aggressively meager. All that could be
learned was that the whole rebel army was out on the Chickamauga some
miles from Chattanooga, and savagely attacking the Union army to drive
it away and recapture the town.

The news was generally very encouraging. Every attack of the rebels had
been repulsed, though our own loss had been heavy. But every man was
needed. The rebel lines extended far beyond those of the Union army in
each direction, and still they had enough for heavy assaulting columns.
Everybody in the neighborhood of Chattanooga had been ordered up,
leaving only the meagerest possible guards for the trains and
communications.

This increased the burning impatience of the boys to get where they
could be of service. But it was far into the night when they finally
skirted the frowning palisades of Lookout Mountain, and went into
bivouac on the banks of Chattanooga Creek. All of the squad wanted guns,
and Si and Shorty had been desperately anxious to get them for them.

At the stopping places were squads of guards, men more or less sick, and
men on detached duty. Whereever Si or Shorty's sharp search could find a
gun not actually in use, or not likely to be, it was pretty sure, by
some means or other, either openly or surreptitiously, to be gotten into
the hands of one of the squad. In this way, by the time they arrived at
Chattanooga, they had nearly half their men armed, and had given them
some preliminary instruction in handling their guns. The Indianians
needed little so far as loading and firing, for they were all natural
marksmen, but to the Englishman and his Irish squad the musket was a
thing of mystery and dread.

"An' is that the goon for me?" said one of the Irishmen contemptuously,
as Si proudly handed him a trusty Springfield he had found unwatched
some where. "That fool thing wid a bore no bigger'n a gimlet hole? Fwhy,
out in the ould country, when we go man-hunting, we take a goon wid a
mouth like a funnel, that ye can put a hat full av balls inter. To the
divil wid such a goon as this."

"Fix your mind on learnin' the kinks o' that gun, Barney," advised
Shorty. "One ball from it put in the right place 'll do more than a hat
full from your old Irish blunderbuss. A man that gits only one from it
won't need nothin' more'n a head stone and his name crossed offen the
roster. Git a good squint at him through them sights, jest be low his
belt, hold stiddy while you pull the trigger, and his name 'll be mud."

"But fwhere is the powdher to make the ball go?" persisted Barney,
looking at the cartridge which Shorty had put in his hand.

"The powder is behind the ball in that paper bag," explained Shorty.
"You tear the paper with your teeth this way, and pour the powder into
the muzzle."

"Fhat," said Barney contemptuously, surveying the cartridge. "There
isn't enough powdher there to throw a ball as far as Oi can a pebble.
Fwhy, Oi used to put a whole handful o' powdher in the old blunderbuss.
Oi wud do betther to whack a man wid a shillelah. And fwhere is the
flint to stroike foire?"

"O, the flintlock's played out, you flannel-mouthed Irishman," said
Shorty irritably. "It's as out-of-date as a bow and arrer. This's a
percussion-lock; don't you understand? This is a cap. You stick it right
on this nipple, an' when the hammer goes down off goes your gun. Don't
you see?"

"Well, you can say, maybe, an' maybe you can't But Oi can't. Take your
old goon. Oi'll none avit.

"May the divil fly away wid it, an' wid you, too. Oi'd rather have a
good shtick. Wid a shtick in me fist Oi'll take care of ony spalpeen
fwhat'll stand up in front av me. But wid a fool goon loike that Oi'd be
kilt at wance."

While Si and Shorty were still worrying about what to do for arms for
the remainder of their men, they heard what seemed to be about a company
marching toward them through the darkness.

"I suppose we had better stop here and stack our arms out of the way,"
they heard the officer say who seemed to be in command. "We've got an
all-night's job before us, fixing up that bridge, and getting those
wagons across. Stack arms, boys, and leave your belts and traps with
them. There's lots of work down there for us."

They could see dimly the men obeying the orders, and going down the bank
of the creek, where they started large fires to light them at their
work.

"They have got a job ahead of 'em," remarked Shorty, looking in the
direction of the fires.

"It'll take 'em all night and a large part o' tomorrow," said Si,
significantly, as a thought entered his mind.

"Indeed it will," accorded Shorty, as the same idea occurred to him.
"An' they won't need their guns. They're only pioneers, anyway."

"If they do," chimed in Si, "they kin pick up plenty more just as good
around somewhere, when daylight comes. That's what pioneers is for."

"Si, you ketch on like a he snappin' turtle," said Shorty joyfully.
"We'll jest help ourselves to them guns and cartridge-boxes, and then
move our camp over a little ways, and skeet out airly in the mornin' for
the front, and we'll be all right. Don't say nothin' to the Lieutenant
about it. He'll be all right, and approve of it, but he mustn't know
anything of it officially. You git the men up and I'll go over and give
the Lieutenant the wink and tell him that we've found a much better
bivouac about a mile further on."

While the pioneers were struggling with their task, and the air down by
the creek was filled with shouts and commands, Si and Shorty, with some
of the others, quietly appropriated enough stands of arms to complete
the equipment of their squad.

Shorty took much credit for his honesty and forbearance that he did not
touch a single one of the pioneers' belongings but their arms. A little
later the squad was in bivouac a mile away.

At the earliest dawn of Sept. 20 they were awake, and after a hasty
breakfast moving out the Rossville road for the battlefield. Only an
occasional shot from a nervous picket, peering into the deep fog, or
angry spatter from a squad of scouting cavalry disturbed the stillness
of the beautiful Autumn morning. The bright rays of the level sun were
bringing out the rich tints of the maples and dog woods on the mountain-
sides in all their gorgeous richness. Nature was smiling so benignantly
on every side that it needed the turmoil and rush in the winding roads
to remind one that somewhere near men were in bitter contrast with her
divine serenity. But the roads were crowded with ammunition and ration
wagons pushing out to the front, and with mounted officers and Orderlies
making their way as rapidly as possible back and for ward with orders
and messages.

Lieut. Bowersox left the road with his detachment and made his way
across the fields, over ditches, ravines and creeks, through the
thickets and the brush, and at last came out on top of Missionary Ridge
at the north side of Rossville Gap.

With eager eyes they scanned the landscape of billowy mountains and
hills to the east and south.

A fog obscured all the lowlands, but far out columns of thin smoke
rising lazily on the still air showed where 150,000 men were marshaling
for bloody conflict.

"That Major I spoke to," said Lieut. Bowersox, as Si and Shorty looked
anxiously in his face, "is on the corps staff, and he says the whole
infernal Southern Confederacy is out there for blood. They jumped us
yesterday like a pack of famished wolves. But Rosecrans had just got his
army together in time, though some of the divisions had to march till
their tongues were hanging out. All the boys were dead game, though, and
they stood the rebels off everywhere in great shape. He hasn't the
faintest idea where the 200th Ind. is. The divisions and brigades have
been jumped around from one end of the line to the other till he has but
little more idea where any regiment is than if it was in the moon. The
only way for us is to make our way as fast as we can to the front, where
they need every man, and trust to luck to find the regiment. We'll
probably not find it, but we'll find a place where they need us badly."

"Le's go ahead, then," said Si firmly, "as fast as we can. We'd much
rather be with the regiment, but we'll take whatever comes wherever it
comes, and do our level best."

"I know you will, Sergeant," answered the Lieutenant. "Take another look
over your men. See that they've all cartridges, and caution them to keep
cool, stay together, whatever happens, and listen to orders."

Si felt a new and keener solicitude than he had ever before experienced.
Hitherto his only thoughts were as to his own safety and to do himself
credit in the discharge of his duty. Now he felt a heavy responsibility
for every man in the detachment.

He walked slowly down the front of the line, and looked into every man's
face. They appeared anxious but resolute. The face of Wat Burnham, the
Englishman, had settled into more of a bull-dog look than ever. The
Irishmen seemed eager. Abel Waite, the boy on the left, was as excited
as if a game of foot-ball was to come off. He called out:

"Say, Sergeant, I hain't got but 10 cartridges. Will that be enough?"

"It'll have to be enough for the present," answered Si. "Be careful of
'em. Don't waste none. Be sure o' your man, aim low, git under his belt,
an' be careful to ketch your hind-sight before you pull the trigger. If
we need more cartridges we'll have to find more somewhere."

From away beyond the green and yellow waves of hills came the crash of
the reopened battle. The ripping noise of regiments firing by volley was
hoarsely punctuated by the deep boom of the field-pieces.

"Attention, company! Forward March!" shout ed Lieut. Bowersox.

They swept down the mountain-side, over the next eminence, and so
onward. At every crest that they raised the uproar of the battle became
louder, the crash of musketry and the thunder of the can non more
continuous. The roads were so filled with teams being urged forward or
backward that they could not follow them, but had to make their way
through the woods and occasional fields, only keeping such direction as
would bring them quickest to some part of the stormy firing-line.

The Lieutenant and Si and Shorty tried to make themselves believe that
the noise was receding, showing that the rebels were being driven. At
times it certainly was so, and then again it would burst out,

"Nearer, clearer, deadlier than before," and their hearts would sink
again. A little past noon they came upon a hight, and there met a sight
which, for the moment, froze their blood. To their right front the whole
country was filled with men flying in the wildest confusion. All
semblance of regimental order was lost in the awful turmoil. Cannon,
sometimes drawn by two or three horses, sometimes by only one, were
plunging around amid the mob of infantrymen. Mounted officers were
wildly galloping in all directions. Colors were carried to crests and
ridges, and for a moment groups of men would gather around them, only to
melt again into the mob of fugitives. From far behind came the yells of
the exultant rebels, and a storm of shot and shell into the disorganized
mass.

The boys' hearts sickened with the thought that the whole army was in
utter rout. For a minute or two they surveyed the appalling sight in
speech less despair. Then a gleam of hope shot into Si's mind.

"Listen," he said; "the firing is heavier than ever over there toward
the center and left, and you can see that men are goin' up instid o'
runnin' away. It's Stone River over again. McCook's bin knocked to
pieces, just as he always is, but old Pap Thomas is standing there like
a lion, just as he did at Stone River, and he's holding Crittenden with
him."

"You're right, Si," shouted the Lieutenant and Shorty. "Hip, hip, hooray
for the Army o' the Cumberland and old Pap Thomas!"

They deflected to the left, so as to avoid being tangled up in the mass
of fugitives, and pushed forward more determinedly, if possible, than
ever. They kept edging to the right, for they wanted to reach Thomas's
right as nearly as possible, as that was the natural position of their
regiment.

Presently, on mounting a roll of the ground, they saw sloping down from
them a few rods away, and running obliquely to their right, a small
"deadening," made by the shiftless farmer for his scanty corn crop. A
mob of fugitives flying through had trampled the stalks to the ground.
Si and Shorty had seen some of them and yelled at them to come up and
form on them, but the skedaddlers either would not or could not hear.

Beyond the "deadening" came a horde of pursuing rebels, firing and
yelling like demons. The sight and sound swelled the boys' hearts with
the rage of battle.

"Lieutenant," suggested Si, "there's no need o' goin' any further just
now for a fight. We can have just as nice a one right here as we can
find anywhere. I move that we line up back here and wait for them rebels
to come on, an' then git 'em on the flank with an enfilade that'll
salivate 'em in a holy minute."

"The same idea has occurred to me," said the Lieutenant; "though I've
felt all along that we should not be diverted by anything from making
our way as fast as possible up to the main line. What do you think,
Shorty?"

"My idee is to down a rebel whenever you git a good chance," said
Shorty. "'Do the work nearest thy hand,' I once heard an old preacher
say. Le's jump these hounds right here."

"All right," assented the Lieutenant quite willingly. "Form the men just
back of the edge of the woods. Keep them out of sight, and caution them
not to shoot till they get the order. We must wait till we get the
rebels just right."

They Posted the Men Behind The Trees. 197

Si and Shorty hurriedly posted the men behind trees and rocks, cautioned
them to wait for orders, and fire low, and then stationed themselves,
one at the right, and the other at the left of the irregular line. They
had scarcely done so when the rebels came surging through the
"deadening" in a torrent. They were urged on by two mounted officers
wear ing respectively the silver stars of a Colonel and a Major.

"The feller on the bay hoss's my meat," shouted Shorty from the left.

"All right," answered Si. "I'll take the chap on the roan."

"Wait a little," cautioned the Lieutenant. "We'll get more of them if
you do. Now, let them have it. Ready Aim FIRE!"

Down went the Colonel and Major and fully 50 of their men. The Indiana
recruits might be green as to tactics, but they knew how to level a gun.

The startled rebels ceased yelling, and looked around in amazement in
the direction whence the unexpected fire came. A few began firing that
way, but the majority started to run back across the "deadening" to the
sheltering woods. Groups gathered around the fallen officers to carry
them back.

"Load as fast as you can, boys," commanded the Lieutenant. "That was a
good one. Give them an other."

The young Irishmen were wild with excitement, and wanted to rush down
and club the rebels, but the Lieutenant restrained them, though he could
not get them to reload their guns. As Si was bringing down his gun he
noticed the Englishman aiming at the groups about the officers.

"Don't shoot them. Fire at the others," Si called out, while he himself
aimed at a man who was try ing to rally his comrades.

"W'y the bloody 'ell shouldn't Hi shoot them the same has the hothers?"
snarled the Englishman, firing into the group. "They're all bloody
rebels."

By the time the second round was fired the "deadening" was clear of all
the rebels but those who had been struck. The others were re-forming on
the knoll beyond, and a field-piece was hurried up to their assistance,
which threw a shell over at the line.

"We had better move off," said the Lieutenant. "They're forming out
there to take us in flank, and we can't hold them back. We have done all
that we can here, and a mighty good job, too. We have saved a lot of our
men and salted a good bagful of rebels. Attention! File left March!"

"That was a mighty good introduction for the boys," said Si to Shorty as
they moved on through the woods. "They begin to see how the thing's
done; and didn't they act splendidly? I'm proud of Injianny."

"Sergeant, didn't I do well?" asked Abel Waite, in the tone that he
would have inquired of his teacher about a recitation. "I done just as
you told me. I kep' my eye on the tall feller in front, who was wavin'
his gun and yellin' at the rest to come on. I aimed just below his belt,
an' he went down just like I've seen a beef when pap shot him."

"Good boy," said Si, patting him on the shoul der. "You're a soldier
already."



CHAPTER XVI. THE TERRIFIC STRUGGLE THE END OF THE BATTLE OF CHICKAMAUGA.

LIEUT. Bowersox, Si, Shorty and the recruits left the woods and entered
a large clearing, in the midst of which was a log cabin, with a few rude
outbuildings. Over it flew the yellow flag of the hospital service, and
beyond could be seen the parked trains and other evidences of the line-
of-battle.

The roar of the battle would have told them as much, for it was now
deafening. The earth seemed to throb and the trees shake with the awful
shocks. As they passed the hospital they saw a grewsome pile of
amputated legs and arms, while the ground around about was filled with
wounded, whose groans pierced through the roar of battle.

James Bradshaw and Simeon Wheelwright, the two tall, stalwart men who
had stood on the right and who had shown great coolness during the
fight, gave one look at the dismembered limbs, turned pale as death,
gasped, and fell in a faint.

"Forward! Can't stop to pay attention to them," commanded the
Lieutenant, in whom the battle-fever was burning.

Though still more than two miles from the low crest of Snodgrass Hill,
where Gen. Thomas, with the remainder of the Army of the Cumberland, was
standing savagely at bay against the fierce assaults of Bragg's and
Longstreet's overwhelming numbers, they were soon in the midst of the
wild ruck and confusion of the rear of a great battle. Miles of wagons
were being urged hither and yon, some times in accordance with
intelligent orders by officers, more often from the panicky fears of
wagon-masters and teamsters; riderless horses with saddles under their
bellies were galloping frantically around; squads of artillerymen in
search of ammunition were storming about, cursing cowardly teamsters,
whom they could not find; streams of wounded men were trying to make
their way to the hospitals; officers were yelling and swearing in their
attempts to rally shirks and cowards who had fled from the front; men
from regiments which had been broken and scattered by the fierce
assaults were trying to find their colors; Colonels whose regiments had
been ordered up from the rear were fiercely forcing their way forward,
with many dire objurgations on all who impeded their progress.

It was a scene to discourage any but the stoutest heart, yet it only
wrought up the boys to greater eagerness to get through to the firing-
line.

The smoke-crowned crest of Snodgrass Hill was seen but half a mile away.
They could make out the ragged, irregular line of blue constantly
vailing itself in sulphurous vapor as it poured murderous volleys into
the enemy. The shrill yell of the rebels as they renewed the charge, and
the deep-toned cheer of the Union soldiers as they repulsed it, reached
their ears in the momentary lulls of the firing.

So far, in spite of all deterrents, they had brought every man through
except the two who had fainted at the hospital. Everyone had shown true
metal. Little Abel Waite had particularly distinguished him self by
skillful dodging under wagons and past flanks, in order to keep up with
the swift pace of the longer-legged men.

They had as yet found no one in all the throng to give them the least
information as to their regiment, when Si spied a member of Co. Q
walking deliberately back, holding the wrist of his shattered left hand
in his right, with his fingers compressing the artery to restrain the
flow of blood.

"There's Silas Peckham," exclaimed Si, running up to him. "Badly hurt,
Sile?"

"No," answered Silas, more coolly than if he had stubbed his toe. "Left
hand's gone on a strike. That's all. Wisht I could find a doctor to fix
it up so I could git back to the boys. They're havin' an awful tussle up
there, an' need me bad. Better hurry up, Si. Don't waste no time on me.
I'll find a doctor soon an' be back with you."

"Where's the regiment, Sile?" asked the Lieutenant.

"Right up there to the left o' them tall hickories," answered Silas,
pointing with his bloody hand. "To the right o' that battery, you see
there. That's our bully old battery at work. Greatest battery in the
army. I've kept my eye on the place, because I want to git back as
soon's I kin find the Surgeon. Ain't much left o' the regiment, or
battery either, for that matter; but they're raisin' hell with the
Johnnies every time, and don't you forgit it. Capt. McGillicuddy's in
command."

"Capt. McGillicuddy?" said the Lieutenant. "Why, he's the junior Captain
in the regiment."

"He was yisterday mornin', but he's now senior to everybody that's
alive," answered Silas. "The Kunnel wuz killed yisterday forenoon. The
Lootenant-Kunnell held out about three hours an' then he got it for
keeps, an' the Major tuck command an' stuck out till nigh evenin', when
they knocked him.

"This mornin' the Captains 's bin going down so fast that I couldn't
keep track of 'em, till Capt. McGillicuddy was the only one left, an'
he's swearin' that the rebels never run no bullet that could hit him.
The Adjutant's acting Lootenant-Kunnel an' Major both to-wunst, and
shootin' a gun when he hain't nothin' else to do. But the boys that's
left 's stayers, I tell you. They've jest stuck their toenails into that
hilltop there, an' every time them howlin' rebels come yippin' an' ki-
yi-in' out o' the woods they send 'em back on the dead run. But they
want you up there bad. You've got more than's left in the regiment.
Hurry up. I'll be back with you jest as soon's I kin find a doctor to
cooper me up a little."

"Forward Quick time March!" shouted the Lieutenant. "Guide on those tall
hickories."

Onward they rushed full into the smoke that drifted backward down the
hill. As they gained the crest the air became clearer, and they saw the
sadly-shrunken remnant of their regiment strung in an irregular line
along the forward edge. Some were binding up wounds more or less severe,
some were searching the boxes of the dead and wounded for cartridges,
some were leaning on their hot guns, looking curiously into the woods at
the foot of the slope into which the rebels had fled.

Every face was blackened with powder almost beyond recognition. The
artillerymen to the left were feverishly swabbing out their guns and
trying to cool them off, and bringing up everything in the shape of
ammunition from the limbers in the rear.

Capt. McGillicuddy was leaning on his sword at the right of the line,
intently watching everything. He looked sharply around, when the men
raised a cheer on recognizing Si and the rest, and coming back shook
Lieut. Bowersox warmly by the hand, saying:

"Great God, Lieutenant, I've always been glad to see you, but I never
was so glad to see a man in my life as I am you this minute. How many
men did you bring?"

"I've got 128 with me," answered the Lieutenant. "What's the situation?"

"You have? Well, you've got more than we have left. You'll act as Major.
Poor Wilkinson just got his dose. You can see him lying down there in
the rear of the left. Put your men in anywhere. Mix them up with the
others.. It don't matter much about formation. The main thing's to stand
and shoot. The rebels have been charging us all after noon, but we have
whipped them back every time.

"You can see our work out there (pointing to the slope in front, which
was literally covered with dead and wounded). I've thought every time
that they couldn't stand another such a slaughter, but they've rallied
in those woods there and come out again with their infernal yell, just
as before. The last time it seemed to me that we just swept them off the
face of the earth, and I don't see how in God's name they can stand any
more of that sort of thing. It's worse killing than we gave them at
Stone River. It seems to me that hell has let out for noon, and sent all
its devils to reinforce them. But it will soon be night now, when
they'll have to stop. If they won't we'll have to depend on the bayonet,
for we haven't five rounds apiece left, and I can't get more anywhere."

Si and Shorty had been distributing the detachment along the line, and
had posted the Englishman and his squad of Irishmen, with themselves,
around the tattered colors, which were now in the hands of the last
survivor of the color guard, who was himself wounded.

Dusk was fast coming on, when the woods beyond the foot of the slope
began to darken again with masses of men arraying in column of assault.

"They're coming again," called out Capt. McGillicuddy. "Lieut. Bowersox,
look out there for the left. Men, if we haven't stopped them when we've
fired out last shot, we'll fix bayonets and charge them. We must keep
them off this hill or die right here."

He was answered with cheers. A demoniac yell from 10,000 fierce throats
rang through the woods, and the next instant thunder and flames burst
from the sweeping crescent of rebel cannon, and the ground in front of
the foot of the hill was hidden from view by the tide of men rushing
over it.

A fierce storm of cannon and musketry answered from the crest of the
hill. As they reloaded, Si and Shorty saw in quick glances that the
rebel line to the right and left seemed beaten to a standstill by the
terrific storm which fell upon them, but in their immediate front a body
of men, apparently a regiment, kept stubbornly forging forward. Upon
their flag, held gallantly aloft, could be made out the let ters "Miss."

By the time every shot in the cartridge-boxes had been fired at them
they had forced their way half-up the slope.

"Attention, 200th Indiana," shouted Capt. McGillicuddy. "Dress on the
colors. Fix bayonets."

"They'uns 's Injiannians," shouted the rebel Color-Sergeant, waving his
flag defiantly. "Come on, you Hoosiers. We'uns 's Mississippians.
Remember Buny Visty. Injiannians 's cowards."

"Shorty, le's have that 'ere flag," said Si.

"Le's," said Shorty, pushing around the ring that locked his bayonet on.

"Forward March Charge!" shouted Capt. McGillicuddy.

They Had a Delirious Remembrance of the Mad Whirl. 211

Of the mad whirl of an eternity of events in the next few minutes
neither Si nor Shorty had anything but a delirious remembrance. They
could only recollect the fierce rush of the lightning-like play of
bayonet and gun-barrel in the storm-center around the rebel colors. Each
after an instant's savage fencing had sent his bayonet home in his
opponent's body. Si had sprung at and seized the rebel colors, only to
fall, as he grasped them, from a bullet out of the revolver of a rebel
Captain, whom Shorty instantly bayoneted, and fell himself from a blow
across the head with a musket-barrel.

The man who struck him was bayoneted by Abel Waite, who was dancing
around the edges of the melee like a malignant little fiend, prodding
wherever he could get a chance at a rebel body. The Irishmen, yelling
like demons, were using their guns like shilelahs, and crushing heads in
every direction, while Wat Burnham had thrown his musket aside, and was
rushing at everybody with his mighty fists.

At length the rebels fled, leaving the Indianians in possession of their
colors and the hillside.

"Some of you find Lieut. Bowersox, and bring him here," said Capt.
McGillicuddy, sitting up, and beginning to twist a handkerchief around
his thigh, to form a tourniquet. "Lieutenant, you all right?"

"Nothing more than a mere scratch on the side of my head," said the
Lieutenant, wiping away the blood.

"Well, Lieutenant, you'll have to take command of the regiment. I had a
personal altercation with that Mississippi Colonel lying over there, and
he put a bullet through my thigh. Get the men together, pick up our
wounded, and fall back to the top of the hill again."

"I'm afraid there's no use of picking up Corp'l Klegg and Shorty," said
the Lieutenant, with tears in his eyes. "They got the rebel flag, but
they're lying there stiff and cold."

"Well, bring them back, anyway, so we can lay them beside the other
gallant boys who have fallen to-day."



CHAPTER XVII. IN THE HOSPITAL REMOVED FROM THE BATTLEFIELD TO THE
HOSPITAL AT CHATTANOOGA.

FOR a short time a silence that seemed oppressive followed the fierce
turmoil of the last charge of the rebels upon Snodgrass Hill and its
repulse. Both sides had exhausted themselves in the awful grapple, and
had to regain breath and thought. Then the night was pierced by the
agonizing groans of the innumerable wounded, the stern commands of
officers to their men to re-form, the calls of scattered men seeking
their regiments and companies.

The sadly-shrunken remnant of the unconquer able 200th Ind. gathered
around its regimental colors, on the front of the crest of Snodgrass
Hill, and grimly, silently prepared for the next event, whatever it
might be. The wounds of those still able to fight were bound up, and
they resumed their places in line. The worst hurt were helped or carried
back to the busy Surgeon under the shelter of the hill. The newly-dead
were brought up and added to the row of those who had already fought
their last battle. Cartridge-boxes of both dead and wounded were
carefully searched for remaining cartridges. Si and Shorty were laid at
the end of the long row.

The chill air of the evening began to revive Si and Shorty. Si's brain
responded long before any of his muscles. At first it seemed the vaguest
and most shadowy of dreams. There was a dim consciousness of lying
somewhere. Where it was, how he came there, what was going on around he
had not the slightest idea nor desire to know. There was just the
feeling of being there, without any sensation of comfort or discomfort,
wish or longing.

One by one, and very slowly, other nerves awoke. He became conscious
that there was a sharp stone or knot under his head, which hurt, and he
tried to move it, but queerly his head would not move, and then he found
that neither would his hands. This was faintly puzzling, as things are
in dreams. Then his throat became on fire with thirst, and somehow there
came a dream of the deliciously cool well on the farm at home, the
bucket covered with green moss swinging over it, the splash of cool
water when it was lowered, the trough by the side, where they used to
pour water for the fowls to drink, the muddy spot around, where water
plants grew on the splashings and drippings. Then were visions of the
eternal, parching thirst of the damned, which he had often heard
preachers describe, and he was conscious of a faint curiosity as to
whether he had died and waked up in the home of the lost.

Still not a muscle waked up to obey his will, and he seemed indifferent
whether it did or not. Then he forgot everything again, until presently
his burning throat recalled his consciousness.

He felt the cold, bracing air in his nostrils, and slowly, very slowly
at first, he began to hear and understand the sounds around him. The
shriek of a wounded comrade carried past, whose leg had been shattered,
first sounded like the hum of bees, and finally translated itself into
something like its true meaning, but he had no comprehension or sympathy
for its misery.

He tried to make some sound himself, but his tongue was as hypnotized as
his other muscles, and refused to obey his will. Yet at the moment he
did not seem to care much. His wishes were as numb as his tendons and
sinews. He became shadowly conscious of his comrades gathering around
him, picking him up, carrying him back up the hill, and laying him down
again. This relieved the sharp pain from the stone under his head; but
when they laid him down again his head fell too low. He heard the murmur
of their voices, and felt their hands searching his pockets for
cartridges.

Consciousness began returning more swiftly, though the muscles were yet
paralyzed. He could feel to the tips of his fingers, yet he could not
move them. He began to understand the words spoken about him, and
comprehend their meaning. The first sentence that filtered its way to
his brain was Lieut. Bowersox's order to the regiment:

"The orders are to fall back quietly. We'll follow the 1st Oshkosh, on
our right. As soon as it is well down the hill we'll move by the right
flank, and fall in behind it. Our wagon is right at the bottom of the
hill. Those that are not able to march will start now, and get in it. It
will move right after the regiment. Don't anybody say a word of this
above his breath. The rebels are listening sharply for our movements. We
dare not even cheer, for fear they'll find out how few are left of us.
All of you keep a lookout, and follow right after me when I start, for I
won't give any order."

Then all his consciousness seemed to wake up at once into an agony of
fear of being left behind to fall into the hands of the rebels. He made
a desperate effort to call out, but his tongue seemed dry and useless as
a cornhusk in his parched mouth, and his throat too burning hot to
perform its office. Nor could he lift a finger nor move a toe.

He found room for anger at Shorty that he did not look him up, and
satisfy himself as to his condition, and Lieut. Bowersox and the rest
seemed selfishly thoughtful of their own safety and neglectful of his.

He listened in agony to the regiment on the right marching off, to the
cautions and admonitions given those who were carrying off the badly-
wounded, and then to Lieut. Bowersox starting off with the right of the
200th Ind.

Then he heard little Abel Waite say:

"I know that Si Klegg has some things on him that his folks' d like to
have. I know where they live. I'm goin' to git 'em, and send 'em to
'em."

"Make haste, then, young feller," he heard Wat Burnham growl. "Don't let
the rebels ketch yer. We're movin' now."

He heard Abel Waite's steps running toward him, and felt his hands
thrust into his blouse pocket over his breast. Then the boy said with a
start of surprise:

"Why, he's alive yet. Come here, Wat."

Wat and the Irishmen hastened to him. He felt

Wat's hand laid on his breast, and then held over his mouth.

"'E's certainly warm yet. Hand 'e breathes."

Shorty made a violent effort, and summoned enough strength to reach over
and touch the Englishman's foot.

"The tall feller's alive, too," said Wat.

"We must take 'em along with us," said Abel Waite excitedly.

"Yes, but 'ow?" growled the Englishman. "Don't speak so loud, you young
brat. Do you want to hopen hup that 'ell's kitchen hagin?"

"The Liftinant's far down the hill wid the regiment," said Barney
McGrath. "There's no toime to sind for him. Here, lit's pick thim up an'
carry thim down to the wagon."

He put his hand under Si's shoulder. The others did the same, Wat
lifting Shorty's feet.

"Halt, there, you Yanks, and surrender," said a stern voice just behind
Wat.

Wat looked back over his shoulder and saw a single adventurous rebel
who, divining what was going on, had slipped forward in the darkness,
with his gun leveled on the squad bearing Si. Wat realized instantly
that the rebel must be suppressed with out alarm to others that might be
behind him. He dropped Shorty's foot, and with a backward sweep of his
mighty right took the rebel in the stomach with such force as to double
him up. The next instant Wat had his throat in his terrific grip, and
tried to tear the windpipe from him. Then he flung the rebel forward
down the hill, gathered up Shorty's feet again, and gave the command:

"Hall right. Go a'ead, boys, quick has you can."

With great difficulty they made their way over the wreckage of battle
down the hill toward where they expected to find the regimental wagon.
But it had received all that it could hold of its ghastly freight and
moved off.

They were is despair for a few minutes, until Abel Waite discovered an
abandoned wagon near by, with one mule still hitched to it. Next they
found a wounded artillery horse which had been turned loose from his
battery. He was hitched in, and Si and Shorty were laid on the layer of
ammunition-boxes which still covered the bottom of the bed.

"Who'll drive the bloody team?" growled Wat. "Hi never druv a 'oss hin
my life. 'Ere, Barney, you get hin the saddle."

"Not Oi," answered Barney. "Oi niver could droive ayven a pig, on the
brightest day that shone. Oi'll not fool wid a couple av strange horses,
a wagon-load av foire an' brimstone, an' a brace av dead men, in the
midst av Aygytian darkness. Not Oi."

"Here, I kin drive two horses, anyway," said Abel Waite, climbing into
the saddle. "I've done that much on the farm."

They pushed off into the road marked by the dark line of troops moving
silently toward McFarland's Gap, and after some contest with other
drivers secured a place behind one of the regiments of their brigade.

A couple of miles ahead Forrest's cavalry was making a noisy dispute of
the army's retreat, the woods were on fire, and the fences on either
side of the road were blazing.

The long line was halted in anxious expectation for a little while, as
the storm of battle rose, and the men looked into each other's faces
with sickening apprehension, for it seemed much like defeat and capture.
Then loud cheers, taken up clear down the line', rose as Turchin's
Brigade, by a swift bayonet charge, swept away all opposition, scattered
the rebels to the shelter of the woods, and reopened the way. But the
rebels still continued to fire long distance shots at the road as
outlined by the burn ing fences.

The Dead Being Collected After the Battle. 220

Though one of his team was wounded, Abel Waite had little difficulty in
keeping his place in column until the burning lane was reached. The
regiment ahead had gone through on the double-quick, and teams as fast
as they could be lashed.

"What'll we do now?" he called out to the others in his boyish treble.
"I can't git these plugs out of a walk. If we go ahead the fire'll bust
the ammunition, and send us all sky-huntin'. If we stop here them rebels
'll git us, sure."

"Go a'ead, Habe," growled Wat, after a moment's thought. "We can't 'elp
you, but we'll stay wi' you. Hif she busts, she busts, hand that's hall
there'll be hof hit hor hof us. We'll stick by the wagon, though, till
she busts, hand then nobuddy but the crows 'll hever find hany hof hus.
Go a'ead, you bloody brat."

"Cut me one o' them young hickories for a gad," said Abel, pointing to
the brush by the side of the road, "and I'll git as good time out o'
these poor brutes as they kin make, if I skin 'em alive."

Abel lashed his animals with all the strength of his young arm, and
succeeded in keeping them in something like a trot. The men ran
alongside, and fought the fire as well as they were able. Several times
the wagon-cover caught fire from the intense heat, but it was at once
beaten out by hats and blouses, and blouses were laid over the holes to
protect them against the sparks.

They succeeded at last in getting through the fire-bordered road without
an explosion, but they were all so exhausted that they could not move
another step until they rested. The poor horse lay down and refused to
get up.

Wat and Abel looked in to see how Si and Shorty had fared. The jolting
of the wagon and the cold night air had at first revived them so that
they could speak. Then they swooned again from the effects of the heat
and the stifling smoke, and were speech less and motionless when Wat and
Abel looked in.

"We've 'ad hall hour trouble for nothink," said Wat disconsolately, as
he felt them over. "The 'eat and smoke's killed 'em."

"Not by a durned sight," slowly gasped Shorty. "Seen sicker dogs'n this
git well. Nearly dead for a drink o' water, though. Then I'll be all
right."

Abel snatched a canteen, ran to a branch a little way off, filled it,
and returning, put it to Shorty's lips.

"Jehosephat, how good that tastes," said Shorty, speaking still faintly,
but far more freely than at first, after he had drained the canteen.
"Sonny, run and git some more; and mind you fill the canteen full this
time. I feel as if I could drink up the Mississippi River. Say, boys,
what's happened? Appearintly, I got a sock-dologer on my head from some
feller who thought I was too fresh. I'm afraid I'll have a spell o'
headache. But we got the flag, didn't we?"

"Yo're bloody right we did," said Wat; "hand we wolloped them bloomin'
rebels till they 'unted their 'oles hin the woods."

"That's good enough," said Shorty, sinking back.

"The column's movin' agin," said Abel Waite, turn ing his attention to
his team.

Shortly after daybreak the team limped painfully up the slope of Mission
Ridge, through Rossville Gap, on either side of which stood Thomas's
indomitable army in battle array, sternly defying the rebel hosts of
Bragg and Longstreet, which swarmed over the hills and valleys in front,
but without much apparent appetite for a renewal of the dreadful fray.

"Where do you men belong? What have you got in that wagon? Where are you
going?" demanded the Provost officer in the road.

"We belong to the 200th Hinjianny. We've got two badly-wounded men and
ha lot o' hammynition in the wagon. We want to find our regiment," an
swered Wat Burnham.

"Stop your wagon right there. We need all the ammunition we can get.
Lift your wounded men into that ambulance, and then go up to that side
of the gap. Your division is up there somewhere."

It was late in the afternoon before the overworked Surgeon in the field
hospital at Chattanooga, in which Si and Shorty were finally deposited,
found time to examine them.

"You got a pretty stiff whack on your head, my man," he said to Shorty,
as he finished looking him over; "but so far as I can tell now it has
not fractured your skull. You Hoosiers have mighty hard heads."

"Reglar clay-knob whiteoak," whispered Shorty; "couldn't split it with a
maul and wedge. Don't mind that a mite, since we got that flag. But
how's my pardner over there?"

"I think you'll pull through all right," continued the Surgeon, "if you
don't have concussion of the brain. You'll have to be\x97"

"No danger o' discussion of the brains," whispered Shorty. "Don't carry
'em up there, where they're liable to get slubbed. Keep 'em in a safer
place, where there's more around 'em. But how's my pardner?"

"You'll come through all right," said the Surgeon smiling. "You're the
right kind to live. You've got grit. I'll look at your partner now."

He went to Si and examined him. Shorty turned on his side and watched
him with eager eyes. His heart sickened as he saw the Surgeon's face
grow graver as he proceeded. The Surgeon probed the bullet's track with
his fingers, and drew out a piece of folded letter paper stained with
blood. Instinctively he unfolded it, and read through the ensanguined
smears, written in a cramped school-girl hand:

"Dear Si: Though I did not have the heart to say it, Ime yours till
death, and Ime sure you feel the same way. Annabel."

"I'm much afraid the end has come too soon to a brave as well as loving
heart," said the Surgeon sadly.

"Doctor, he can't die. He mustn't die," said Shorty in agony. "The
regiment can't spare him. He's the best soldier in it, and he's my
pardner."

"He may live, but it's a very slender chance," said the Surgeon. "Men
live in this war against all science and experience, and it is possible
that he may."

"Major," said Lieut. Bowersox, coming in, "I understand that two of my
men were brought in here wounded. The report which was sent North this
morning gave them as killed. If you have them here I want to correct it
and save their people sorrow."

"One of them," answered the Surgeon, "has no thought of dying, and will,
I'm sure, pull through. I am sorry I cannot say the same for the other.
It he lives it will be a wonder."

"Neither of us is a-going to die till we've put down this damned
rebellion, and got home and married our girls," gasped Shorty with grim
effort. "You can jist telegraph that home, and to ole Abe Lincoln, and
to all whom it may concern."

And he fell back exhausted on his blanket.



CHAPTER XVIII. A DISTURBING MESSAGE THE DEACON HURRIEDLY LEAVES FOR
CHATTANOOGA.

THAT evening Lieut. Bowersox sent a telegram to Deacon Klegg. It had to
be strictly limited to 10 words, and read:

JOSIAH KLEGG, ESQ.,

Somepunkins Station, Ind.:

Josiah not killed. Hospital at Chattanooga. Badly wounded. E. C.
BOWERSOX.

It did not arrive at Sumpunkins Station, three miles from the Deacon's
home, until the next forenoon. The youth who discharged the multifarious
duties of Postmaster, passenger, freight and express-agent, baggage-
master, and telegraph operator at Sumpunkins Station laboriously spelled
out the dots and dashes on the paper strip in the instrument. He had
barely enough mastery of the Morse alphabet to communicate the routine
messages relating to the railroad's business aided by the intelligence
of the conductors and engineers as to what was expected of them. This
was the first outside message that he had ever received, and for a while
it threatened to be too much for him, especially as the absence of
punctuation made it still more enigmatical. He faithfully transcribed
each letter as he made it out and then the agglomeration read:

"Josiamn otkildho spitalat chatano ogabadl ywounded ecbower sox."

"Confound them smart operators at Louisville and Jefferson ville," he
grumbled, scanning the scrawl. "They never make letters plain, and don't
put in half of 'em, just to worrit country operators. I'd like to take a
club to 'em. There's no sort o' sense in sich sending. A Philadelphia
lawyer couldn't make nothing out of it. But I've got to or get a
cussing, and mebbe the bounce. I'll try it over again, and see if I can
separate it into words. Why in thunder can't they learn to put a space
be tween the words, and not jumble the letters all to gether in that
fool fashion?"

The next time he wrote it out:

"J. O. S. I am not kild Hospital at Chattanooga badly wounded E. C.
Bower sox."

"That begins to look like something," said he, wiping the sweat from his
forehead. "But who is J. O. S.? Nobody o' them initials in this neighbor
hood. Nor E. C. Bower. Deacon Klegg can't know any of 'em. Then, how's
the hospital badly wounded Bower? What's that about his socks? I'll have
to try it over again as soon as No. 7, freight, gets by."

After No. 7 had gotten away, he tackled the message again:

"No, that sixth letter's not an m, but an h. H is four dots, and m is
two dashes. It's specks in the paper that makes it look like an h. I'll
put in some letters where they're needed. Now let's see how it'll read:"

228 SI KLEGG.

"Josiah Nott killed Hospital at Chattanooga. Badly wounded E. C. Bower
sox."

"That seems to have more sense in it, but I don't know any Josiah Nott
in this country. Does it mean that he killed a man named Hospital at
Chattanooga, and badly wounded E. C. Bower in the socks? That don't seem
sense. I'll try it again."

The next time he succeeded in making it read:

"Josiah Nott killed. Hospital at Chattanooga. Badly wounded E. C.
Bower's ox."

"There, that's best I can do," he said, surveying the screed. "It'll
have to go that way, and let the Deacon study it out. He's got more time
'n I have, and mebbe knows all about it. I can't spend no more time on
it. No. 3, passenger, from the West 's due in 20 minutes, and I've got
to get ready for it. Good luck; there comes the Deacon's darky now, with
a load of wheat. I'll send it out by him."

The operator wrote out his last version of the message on a telegraph-
blank, inclosed it in a West ern Union envelope, which he addressed to
Deacon Klegg, and gave to Abraham Lincoln, with strong injunctions to
make all haste back home with it.

Impressed with these, Abraham, as soon as he delivered his grain to the
elevator, put his team to a trot, and maintained it until he reached
home.

Everything about the usually cheerful farm-house was shrouded in
palpable gloom. The papers of the day before, with their ghastly lists
of the dead and wounded, had contained Si's and Shorty's names, besides
those of other boys of the neighborhood, in terrific, unmistakable
plainness. There were few homes into which mourning had not come. The
window curtains were drawn down, the front doors closed, no one appeared
on the front porch, and it seemed that even the dogs and the fowls were
op pressed with the general sadness, and forebore their usual cheerful
utterances. Attired in sober black, with eyes red from weeping, and with
camphor bottle near, Mr. Klegg sat in Si's room, and between her fits of
uncontrollable weeping turned over, one after another, the reminders of
her son. There were his bed, his clothes, which she had herself
fashioned in loving toil for him; the well-thumbed school-books which
had cost him so many anxious hours, his gun and fishing rod. All these
were now sacred to her. Elsewhere in the house his teary-eyed sisters
went softly and silently about their daily work.

The father had sought distraction in active work, and was in the
cornfield, long corn-knife in hand, shocking up the tall stalks with a
desperate energy to bring forgetfulness.

Abraham Lincoln burst into the kitchen, and taking the dispatch from his
hat said:

"Hyah am a papeh or sumfin dat de agent down at de station done tole me
to bring hyah jest as quick as I done could. He said hit done come ober
a wire or a telugraph, or sumfin ob dat ere sort, and you must hab hit
right-a-way."

"O, my; it's a telegraph dispatch," screamed Maria with that sickening
apprehension that all women have of telegrams. "It's awful. I can't tech
it. Take it Sophy."

"How can I," groaned poor Sophia, with a fresh outburst of tears. "But I
suppose I must."

The mother heard the scream and the words, and hurried into the room.

"It's a telegraph dispatch, mother," said both the girls as they saw
her.

"Merciful Father," ejaculated Mrs. Klegg, sinking into a chair in so
nearly a faint that Maria ran into the next room for the camphor-bottle,
while Sophy rushed outside and blew the horn for the Deacon. Presently
he entered, his sleeves rolled to the elbow over his brawny arms, and
his shirt and pantaloons covered with the spanish-needles and burrs
which would grow, even in so well-tilled fields as Deacon Klegg's.

"What's the matter, mother? What's the matter, girls?" he asked
anxiously.

Mrs. Klegg could only look at him in speechless misery.

"We've got a telegraph dispatch," finally answered Maria, bursting in a
torrent of tears, into which Sophia joined sympathetically, "and we know
it's about poor Si."

"Yes, it must be about poor Si; nobody else but him," added Sophia with
a wail.

The father's face grew more sorrowful than be fore. "What does it say?"
he nerved himself to ask, after a moment's pause.

"We don't know," sobbed Maria. "We haint opened it. We're afraid to.
Here it is."

The father took it with trembling hand. "Well," he said after a little
hesitation, "it can't tell nothin' no worse than we've already heard.
Let's open it. Bring me my specs."

Maria ran for the spectacles, while her father, making a strong effort
to calm himself, slit open the envelope with a jack-knife, adjusted his
glasses, and read the inclosure over very slowly.

"Josiah Nott killed Hospital at Chattanooga badly wounded E. C. Bower's
ox. What on airth does that mean? I can't for the life o' me make it
out."

"Read it over again, pap," said Maria, suddenly drying her eyes.

The father did so.

"Le' me read it, pap," said Maria, snatching the telegram from his hand.
"Josiah," said she, read ing. "That's Si's right name."

"Certainly it is," said her mother, reviving.

"Certainly; I didn't think o' that before," echoed the father.

"Josiah not killed," continued she. "Good heavens, that's what that
means. They rebels has got hold o' the wires, and shook 'em and tangled
up the rest, but the beginnin's all straight."

"I believe that Sam Elkins down at the station 's mixed it up," said
Sophia, with hope springing in her breast. "He never can get things
straight. He was in the class with me when I went to school, and too
dumb to come in when it rained. He was the worst writer, speller and
reader in the school. Think o' him being a telegraph operator. Why, he
couldn't spell well enough to make tally-marks on a door when you're
measurin' corn. Railroad was mighty hard up for help when it hired him.
Let me read that dispatch. 'Josiah not killed.' That means Si Klegg, as
sure's you're born. It can't mean nothin' else, or it wouldn't be
addressed to you, pap. 'Hospital at Chattanooga.' Chattanooga's near
where the battle was fought. 'Badly wounded.' That means Si's bin shot.
'E. C. Bower's ox.' What in the world can that be?"

"Bowersox?" said her father, catching the sound. "Why, that's the name
o' the Lootenant Si and Shorty was under when they came home. Don't you
remember they told us about him? I remember the name, for a man named
Bowersox used to run a mill down on Bean-Blossom Crick, years ago, and I
wondered if he was his son. He's sent me that dispatch, and signed his
name. The Lord be praised for His never-endin' mercies. Si's alive,
after all. Le' me read that over again."

He took the dispatch with shaking hands, but there was too much mist on
his glasses-, and he had to hand it back to Maria to read over again to
convince himself.

"I'll tell you what let's do: Let's all get in the wagon and ride over
to the station, and get Sam Elkins to read the dispatch over again,"
suggested Sophia. "I'll jest bet he's mummixed it up."

"Don't blame him, Sophy," urged Maria. "I think the rebels has got at
the poles or wires and shook 'em, and mixed the letters up. It's just
like 'em."

Sophy's suggestion was carried out. Abraham Lincoln was directed to get
out the spring wagon, and the Deacon helped hitch up, while the "women
folks" got ready.

While they were at the station getting Sam Elkins to re-examine the dots
and dashes on his strip of paper, the Eastern express arrived, bringing
the morning papers. The Deacon bought one, and the girls nervously
turned to the war news. They gave a scream of exultation when they read
the revised returns of the killed and wounded, and found under head of
"Wounded, in Hospital at Chattanooga":

"Corporal Josiah Klegg, Q, 200th Ind.

"Private Daniel Elliott, Q, 200th Ind."

"Mother and girls, I'm goin' to Chattanoogy on the next train," said the
Deacon.

It was only a few hours until the train from the East would be along,
and grief was measurably forgotten in the joy that Si was still alive
and in the bustle of the Deacon's preparation for the journey.

"No," he said, in response to the innumerable suggestions made by the
mother and daughters. "You kin jest set all them things back. I've bin
down there once, and learned something. I'm goin' to take nothin with me
but my Bible, a couple o' clean shirts, and my razor. A wise man learns
by experience."

Mother and girls were inconsolable, for each had something that they
were sure "Si would like," and would "do him good," but they knew Josiah
Klegg, Sr., well enough to understand what was the condition when he had
once made up his mind.

"If Si and Shorty's able to be moved," he consoled them with, "I'm going
to bring them straight back home with me, and then you kin nuss and
coddle them all you want to."

The news of his prospective journey had flashed through the
neighborhood, so that he met at the station the relatives of most of the
men in Co. Q, each with a burden of messages and comforts for those who
were living, or of tearful inquiries as to those reported dead.

He took charge of the letters and money, refused the other things, and
gave to the kin of the wounded and dead sympathetic assurances of doing
every thing possible.

He had no particular trouble or advanture until he reached Nashville.
There he found that he could go no farther without procuring a pass from
the Provost-Marshal. At the Provosts's office he found a highly
miscellaneous crowd besieging that official for the necessary permission
to travel on the military railroad. There were more or less honest and
loyal speculators in cotton who were ready to take any chances in the
vicissitudes of the military situation to get a few bales of the
precious staple. There were others who were downright smugglers, and
willing to give the rebels anything, from quinine to gun-caps, for
cotton. There were sutlers, pedlers, and gamblers. And there were more
or less loyal citizens of the country south who wanted to get back to
their homes, some to be honest, law-abiding citizens, more to get in
communication with the rebels and aid and abet the rebellion.

Deacon Klegg's heart sank as he surveyed the pushing, eager crowd which
had gotten there before him, and most of whom were being treated very
cavalierly by the Provost-Marshal.

"No," he heard that official say to a man who appeared a plain farmer
like himself; "you not only can have no pass, but you can't stay in
Nashville an other day. I remember you. I've heard you tell that story
of a sick son in the hospital before. I remember all the details. You
haven't changed one. You're a smuggler, and I believe a spy. You've got
mule-loads of quinine somewhere in hiding, and may be gun-caps and other
munitions of war. If you know what's good for you, you'll take the next
train north, and never stop until you are on the other side of the Ohio
River. If you are in town to-morrow morning, I'll put you to work on the
fortifications, and keep you there till the end of the war. Get out of
my office at once."

Others were turned away with similar brusqueness, until the Deacon was
in despair; but the though of Si on a bed of pain nerved him, and he
kept his place in the line that was pushing toward the Provost's desk.

Suddenly the Provost looked over those in front of him, and fixing his
eye on the Deacon, called out:

"Well, my friend, come up here. What can I do for you?"

The Deacon was astonished, but in obedience to a gesture from the
Provost, left the line, and came up.

"What's your name? Where are you from? What are you doing down here?
What do you want?" inquired the Provost, scanning him critically.

The Deacon's eyes met his boldly, and he answered the questions
categorically.

"Well, Mr. Klegg, you shall have a pass at once, and I sincerely hope
that you will find your son recovering. You probably do not remember me,
but I have seen you before, when I was on the circuit in Indiana. My
clerk there is writing out a pass for you. You will have to take the
oath of allegiance, and sign the paper, which I suppose you have no
objection to doing."

"None in the world," answered the Deacon, surprised at the unexpected
turn of events. "I'll be only too glad. I was gittin' very scared about
my pass."

"O, I have hard work here," said the Provost smiling, "in separating the
sheep from the goats, but I'm now getting to know the goats tolerably
well. There's you're pass, Deacon. A pleasant journey, and a happy
termination to it."

The Deacon took out his long calf-skin wallet from his breast, put the
precious pass in it, carefully strapped it up again and replaced it, and
walked out of the office toward the depot.

He had gone but a few steps from the building when he saw the man who
had been ordered out of the city by the Provost, and who seemed to be on
the lookout for the Deacon. He came up, greeted the Deacon effusively
and shook hands.

"You're from Posey County, Ind., I believe? I used to live there myself.
Know Judge Drake?"

"Very well," answered the Deacon a little stiffly, for he was on his
guard against cordial strangers.

"You do;" said the stranger warmly. "Splendid man. Great lawyer. Fine
judge. I had a great deal to do with him at one time."

"Probably he had a great deal to do with you," thought the Deacon. "He
was a terror to evil-doers."

"Say, my friend," said the stranger abruptly, "you got a pass. I
couldn't. That old rascal of a Provost-Marshal's down on me because I
wouldn't let him into a speculation with me. He's on the make every
time, and wants to hog everything. Say, you're a sly one. You worked him
fine on that wounded son racket. I think I'd like to tie to you. I'll
make it worth your while to turn over that pass to me. It'll fit me just
as well as it does you. I'll give you $50 to let me use that pass just
two days, and then I'll return it to you."

"Why, you're crazy," gasped the Deacon.

"O, come off, now," said the other impatiently. "Business is business. I
haint no time to waste. It's more'n it's worth to me, but I'll make it
$100, and agree to be back on this spot to-morrow night with your pass.
You can't make $100 as easy any other way."

"I tell you, you're crazy," said the Deacon with rising indignation.
"You can't have that pass for no amount o' money. I'm goin' to see my
wounded son."

"That's a good enough gag for the Provost, but I understand you, in
spite of your hayseed airs. Say, I'll make it $250."

"I tell you, you old fool," said the Deacon angrily, "I won't sell that
pass for a mint o' money. Even if I wasn't goin' to see my son I
wouldn't let you have it under any circumstances, to use in your
traitorous business. Let go o' my coat, if you know what's good for
you."

"Now, look here," said the stranger; "I've made you a mighty fair
proposition more'n the pass's worth to you. If you don't accept it
you'll wish you had. I'm onto you. I'll go right back to the Provost and
let out on you. I know enough to settle your hash mighty sudden. Do you
hear me?"

It was very near train time, and the Deacon was desperately anxious to
not miss the train. He had already wasted more words on this man than he
usually did on those he didn't like, and he simply ended the colloquy
with a shove that sent the impertinent stranger into the gutter as if a
mule had kicked him there, hurried on to the depot, and managed to get
on just as the train was moving out.

It was night, and he dozed in his seat until the train reached
Bridgeport, Ala., when everybody was turned out of the train, and a
general inspection of the passengers made.

"Very sorry for you, sir," said the Lieutenant; "but we can't let you go
on. Your pass is all right up to this point, but the Commandant at
Nashville has no authority here. Orders are very strict against any more
civilians coming to Chattanooga under any pretext. Rations are very
short, and there is danger of their being much shorter, with the rebel
cavalry slashing around everywhere at our cracker-line. We only saved
two bridges to-night by the greatest luck. You'll have to go back to
Nashville by the next train."

"O, Mister Lootenant," pleaded the Deacon, with drops of sweat on his
brow. "Please let me go on. My only son lays there in Chattanooga, a-
dyin' for all I know. He's bin a good soldier. Ask anybody that knows
the 200th Injianny, and they'll tell you that there ain't no better
soldier in the regiment than Corporal Si Klegg. You've a father
yourself. Think how he'd feel if you was layin' in a hospital at the
pint o' death, and him not able to git to you. You'll let me go on, I
know you will. It aint in you to re fuse."

"I feel awful sorry for you sir," said the Lieutenant, much moved. "And
if I had it in my power you should go. But I have got my orders, and I
must obey them. I musn't allow anybody not actually be longing to the
army to pass on across the river on the train."

"I'll walk every step o' the way, if you'll let me go on," said the
Deacon.

"I tell you what you might do," said the Lieutenant suggestively. "It
isn't a great ways over the mountains to Chattanooga. There's a herd of
cattle starting over there. The Lieutenant in charge is a friend of
mine. I'll speak to him to let you go along as a helper. It'll be
something of a walk for you, but it's the best I can do. You'll get in
there some time to-morrow."

"P'int out your friend to me, and let me go as quick as I kin."

"All right," said the Lieutenant in charge of the herd, when the
circumstances were explained to him. "Free passes over my road to
Chattanooga are barred. Everybody has to work his way. But I'll see that
you get there, if Joe Wheeler's cavalry don't interfere. We are going
over in the dark to avoid them. You can put your carpet-bag in that
wagon there. Report to the Herd-Boss there."

"You look like a man of sense," said the Herd-Boss, looking him over,
and handing him a hickory gad. "And I believe you're all right. I'm
goin' to put you at the head, just behind the guide. Keep your eye
peeled for rebel cavalry and bushwhackers, and stop and whistle for me
if you see anything suspicious."

It was slow, toilsome work urging the lumbering cattle along over the
steep, tortuous mountain paths. Naturally, the nimblest, friskiest
steers got in the front, and they were a sore trial to the Deacon, to
restrain them to the line of march, and keep them from straying off and
getting lost. Of course, a Deacon in the Baptist Church could not swear
under any provocation, but the way he remarked on the conduct of some of
the "critters" as "dumbed," "confounded," and "tormented," had almost as
vicious a ring as the profuse profanity of his fellow-herders.

Late in the afternoon the tired-out herd was halted in a creek bottom
near Chattanooga. The patient animals lay down, and the weary, footsore
Deacon, his clothes covered with burs, his hands and face seamed with
bloody scratches, leaned on his frayed gad and looked around over the
wilderness of tents, cabins, trains and interminable lines of
breastworks and forts.

"Mr. Klegg," said the Herd-Boss, coming toward him, "you've done your
duty, and you've done it well. I don't know how I could've ever got this
lot through but for your help. Here's your carpet-sack, and here's a
haversack o' rations I've put up for you. Take mighty good care of it,
for you'll need every cracker. That lot o' tents you see over there,
with a yaller flag flyin' over 'em, is a general hospital. Mebbe you'll
find your son in there."

The Deacon walked straight to the nearest tent, lifted the flap and
inquired:

"Does anybody here know where there is a boy named Si Klegg, of Co. Q,
200th Injianny Volunteers?"

'pap, is That You?' Said a Weak Voice. 238

"Pap, is that you?" said a weak voice in the far corner.

"Great, jumpin' Jehosephat, the Deacon!" ejaculated a tall skeleton of a
man, who was holding a cup of coffee to Si's lips.

"Great Goodness, Shorty," said the Deacon, "is that you?"

"What's left o' me," answered Shorty.



CHAPTER XIX. TEDIOUS CONVALESCENCE THE DEACON COMMITS A CRIME AGAINST
HIS CONSCIENCE.

"YOU are the father of that boy in the far end of the tent," said the
Surgeon coming up to the Deacon, who had stepped outside of the tent to
get an opportunity to think clearly. "I'm very glad you have come, for
his life hangs by a thread. That thread is his pluck, aided by a superb
constitution. Most men would have died on the field from such a wound.
Medicine can do but little for him; careful nursing much more; but his
own will and your presence and encouragement will do far more than
either."

"How about Shorty?" inquired the Deacon.

"Shorty's all right if he don't get a setback. The danger from the blow
on his head is pretty near past, if something don't come in to make
further complications. He has been pulled down pretty badly by the low
fever which has been epidemic here since we have settled down in camp,
but he seems to be coming out from it all right."

"I've come down here to do all that's possible for these two boys. Now,
how kin I best do it?" asked the Deacon.

"You can do good by helping nurse them. You could do much more good if
there was more to do with, but we lack almost everything for the proper
care of the wounded and sick. We have 15,000 men in hospital here, and
not supplies enough for 3,000. When we will get more depends on just
what luck our cavalry has in keeping the rebels off our line of
supplies."

"Show me what to do, give me what you kin, and I'll trust in the Lord
and my own efforts for the rest."

"Yes, and you kin count on me to assist," chimed in Shorty, who had come
up. "I won't let you play lone hand long, Deacon, for I'm gittin'
chirpier every day. If I could only fill up good and full once more on
hardtack and pork, or some sich luxuries, I'd be as good as new agin."

"You mean you'd be put to bed under three feet of red clay, if you were
allowed to eat all you want to," said the Surgeon. "There's where the
wind is tempered to the shorn lamb. If you could eat as much as you want
to eat, I should speedily have to bid good-by to you. For the present,
Mr. Klegg, do anything that suggests itself to you to make these men
comfortable. I need scarcely caution you to be careful about their food,
for there is nothing that you can get hold of to over-feed them. But
you'd better not let them have anything to eat until I come around again
and talk to you more fully. I put them in your charge."

The Deacon's first thought was for Si, and he bestirred himself to do
what he thought his wife, who was renowned as a nurse, would do were she
there.

He warmed some water, and tenderly as he could command his strong,
stubby hands, washed Si's face, hands and feet, and combed his hair. The
overworked hospital attendants had had no time for this much-needed
ministration. It was all that they could do to get the wounded under
some sort of shelter, to dress their wounds, and prepare food. No well
man could be spared from the trenches for hospital service, for the
sadly-diminished Army of the Cumberland needed every man who could carry
a musket to man the long lines to repel the constantly-threatened
assaults.

The removal of the soil and grime of the march and battle had a
remarkably vivifying effect upon Si. New life seemed to pulse through
his veins and brightness return to his eyes.

"Makes me feel like a new man, Pap," he said faintly. "Feels better than
anything I ever knowed. Do the same to Shorty, Pap."

"Come here, Shorty, you dirty little rascal," said the Deacon, assuming
a severely maternal tone, at which Si laughed feebly but cheerily, "and
let me wash your face and comb your hair."

Shorty demurred a little at being treated like a boy, and protested that
he could wash himself, if the Deacon would get him some warm water; but
he saw that the conceit amused Si, and submitted to having the Deacon
give him a scrubbing with a soapy rag, giving a yell from time to time,
in imitation of an urchin undergoing an unwilling ablution. Si turned
his head so as to witness the operation, and grinned throughout it.

"I think you'd both feel still better if you could have your hair cut,"
said the Deacon, as he finished and looked from one to the other. "Your
hair's too long for sick people, and it makes you look sicker'n you
really are. But I hain't got no shears."

"I know I'd feel better if I was sheared," said Shorty. "Hain't neither
of us had our hair cut since we started on the Tullyhomy campaign, and I
think I look like the Wild Man from Borneo. I think I know a feller that
has a pair o' shears that I kin borry."

The shears were found and borrowed. Then ensued a discussion as to the
style of the cut. The boys wanted their hair taken off close to their
heads, 'but the Deacon demurred to this for fear they would catch cold.

"No, Si," he said; "I'm goin' to cut your hair jest like your mother
used to. She used to tie one of her garters from your forehead down
across your ears, and cut off all the hair that stuck out. I hain't any
garter, but I guess I kin find a string that'll do jest as well."

"There," said the Deacon, as he finished shearing off the superabundant
hair, and surveyed the work. "That ain't as purty a job as if your
mother'd done it, but you'll feel lighter and cleaner, and be healthier.
If hair was only worth as much as wool is now, I'd have enough to pay me
for the job. But I must clean it up keerfully and burn it, that the
birds mayn't git hold of it and give you the headache."

The Deacon had his little superstitions, like a great many other hard-
headed, sensible men.

"Well, Mr. Klegg," said the Surgeon, when he made his next round, "I
must congratulate you on your patients. Both show a remarkable
improvement. You ought to apply for a diploma, and go into the practice
of medicine. You have done more for them in the two or three hours than
I have been able to do in as many weeks. If you could only keep up this
pace awhile I would be able to return them to duty very soon. I have an
idea. Do you see that corn-crib over there?"

"The one built of poles? Yes."

"Well, I have some things stored there, and I have been able to hold it
so far against the soldiers, who are snatching every stick of wood they
can find, for their cabins, or for the breastworks, or firewood. I don't
know how long I'll be able to keep it, unless I have personal
possession. I believe you can make it into a comfortable place for these
two men. That will help them, you can be by yourselves, you can take
care of my things, and it will relieve the crowd in the tent."

"Splendid idea," warmly assented the Deacon. "I'll chink and daub it,
and make it entirely comfortable, and fix up bunks in it for the boys. I
know they'll be delighted at the change. I wonder where Shorty is?"

The Deacon had just remembered that he had not seen that individual for
some little time, and looked around for him with some concern. It was
well that he did. Shorty had come across the haversack that the Deacon
had brought, and it awakened all his old predatory instincts, sharpened,
if anything, by his feebleness. Without saying a word to any body, he
had employed the time while the Surgeon and Deacon were in conversation
in preparing one of his customary gorges after a long, hard march.

He had broken up the crackers into a tin-cup of water which sat by his
side, while he was frying out pieces of fat pork in a half-canteen.

"My goodness, man!" shouted the Deacon, spring ing toward him. "Are you
crazy? If you eat that mess you'll be dead before morning."

He sprang toward him, snatched the half-canteen from his hand, and threw
its contents on the ground.

"That stuff's not fit to put into an ostrich's stomach," he said. "Mr.
Klegg, you will have to watch this man very carefully."

"Can't I have none of it to eat?" said Shorty, dejectedly, with tears of
weakness and longing in his eyes.

"Not a mouthful of that stuff," said the Surgeon; "but you may eat some
of those crackers you have soaked there. Mr. Klegg, let him eat about
half of those crackers no more."

Shorty looked as if the whole world had lost its charms. "Hardtack
without grease's no more taste than chips," he murmured.

"Never mind, Shorty," said the Deacon, pityingly; "I'll manage to find
you something that'll be better for you than that stuff."

The Surgeon had the boys carried over to the corncrib, and the Deacon
went to work to make it as snug as possible. All the old training of his
pioneer days when literally with his own hands, and with the rudest
materials, he had built a comfortable cabin in the wilderness of the
Wabash bottoms for his young wife came back to him. He could not see a
brick, a piece of board, a stick, or a bit of iron anywhere without the
thought that it might be made useful, and carrying it off. As there were
about 40,000 other men around the little village of Chattanooga with
similar inclinations, the Deacon had need of all his shrewdness in
securing coveted materials, but it was rare that anybody got ahead of
him. He rearranged and patched the clapboards on the roof until it was
perfectly rain-tight, chinked up the spaces between the poles with
stones, corncobs and pieces of wood, and plastered over the outside with
clay, until the walls were draft proof. He hung up an old blanket for a
door, and hired a teamster to bring in a load of silky-fine beech leaves
which, when freshly fallen, make a bed that cannot be surpassed. These,
by spreading blankets over them, made very comfort able couches for Si,
Shorty and himself.

Then the great problem became one of proper food for the boys. Daily the
rations were growing shorter in Chattanooga, and if they had been
plentiful they were not suited to the delicate stomachs of those
seriously ill. Si was slowly improving, but the Deacon felt that the
thing necessary to carry him over the breakers and land him safely on
the shores of recovery was nourishing food that he could relish.

He had anxiously sought the entire length of the camp for something of
that kind. He had visited all the sutlers, and canvassed the scanty
stocks in the few stores in Chattanooga. He had bought the sole
remaining can of tomatoes at a price which would have almost bought the
field in which the tomatoes were raised, and he had turned over the
remnant lots of herring, cheese, etc., he found at the sutler's, with
despair at imagining any sort of way in which they could be worked up to
become appetizing and assimilative to Si's stomach.

"What you and Si needs," he would say to Shorty, "is chicken and fresh
'taters. If you could have a good mess of chicken and 'taters every day
you'd come up like Spring shoats. I declare I'd give that crick bottom
medder o' mine, which hasn't it's beat on the Wabash, to have mother's
coopful o' chickens here this minute."

But a chicken was no more to be had in Chattanooga than a Delmonico
banquet. The table of the Major-General commanding the Army of the
Cumberland might have a little more hardtack and pork on it than
appeared in the tents of the privates, and be cooked a little better,
but it had nothing but hardtack and pork.

The Deacon made excursions into the country, and even ran great risks
from the rebel pickets and bushwhackers, in search of chickens. But the
country had been stripped, by one side or the other, of everything
eatable, and the people that remained in their cheerless homes were
dependent upon what they could get from the United States Commissary.

One day he found the Herd-Boss in camp, and poured forth his troubles to
him. The Herd-Boss sympathized deeply with him, and cudgeled his brains
for a way to help.

"I'll tell you what you might do," he said at length, "if you care to
take the risk. We're goin' back with some teams to Bridgeport to-morrow
mornin'. You might git in one of the wagons and ride back 10 or 15 miles
to a little valley that I remember that's there, and which I think looks
like it hain't bin foraged. I was thinkin' as we come through the other
day that I might git something goo'd to eat up there, and I'd try it
some day. No body seems to 've noticed it yit. But it may be chock full
o' rebels, for all I know, and a feller git jumped the moment he sets
foot in it."

"I'll take my chances," said the Deacon. "I'll go along with you to-
morrer mornin'."

The Deacon found that a ride in a wagon was not such an unqualified
favor as he might have thought. The poor, half-fed, overworked mules
went so slowly that the Deacon could make better time walking, and he
was too merciful to allow them to pull him up hill.

The result was that, with helping pry the stalled wagons out and work in
making the roads more passable, the Deacon expended more labor than if
he had started out to walk in the first place.

It was late in the afternoon when the Herd-Boss said:

"There, you take that path to the right, and in a little ways you'll
come out by a purty good house. I hain't seen any Johnnies around in
this neighborhood since I've bin travelin' this route, but you'd better
keep your eye peeled, all the same. If you see any, skip back to the
road here, and wait awhile. Somebody 'll be passin' before long."

Thanking him, the Deacon set out for the house, hoping to be able to
reach it, get some fowls, and be back to Chattanooga before morning. If
he got the chickens, he felt sanguine that he could save Si's life.

He soon came in sight of the house, the only one, apparently, for miles,
and scanned it carefully. There were no men to be seen, though the house
appeared to be inhabited. He took another look at the heavy revolver
which he had borrowed from the Surgeon, and carried ready for use in the
pocket of Si's overcoat, and began a strategic advance, keep ing well
out of sight under the cover of the sumachs lining the fences.

Still he saw no one, and finally he became so bold as to leave his
covert and walk straight to the front door. A dozen dogs charged at him
with a wild hullabaloo, but he had anticipated this, and picked up a
stout hickory switch in the road, which he wielded with his left hand
with so much effect that they ran howling back under the house. He kept
his right hand firmly grasping his revolver.

An old man and his wife appeared at the door; both of them shoved back
their spectacles until they rested on the tops of their heads, and
scanned him searchingly. The old woman had a law-book in her hand, and
the old man a quill pen. She had evidently been reading to him, and he
copying.

The old man called out to him imperiously:

"Heah, stranger, who air yo'? An' what d'yo' want?"

The tone was so harsh and repellant that the Deacon thought that he
would disarm hostility by announcing himself a plain citizen, like
themselves. So he replied:

"I'm a farmer, and a citizen from Injianny, and I want to buy some
chickens for my son, who's sick in the hospital at Chattanoogy."

"Injianny!" sneered the old man. "Meanest people in the world live in
Injianny. Settled by scalawags that we'uns run outen Tennessee bekase
they'uns wuz too onery to live heah."

"Citizen!" echoed the woman. "They'uns heap sight wuss'n the soldjers.
Teamsters, gamblers, camp-followers, thieves, that'll steal the coppers
off en a dead man's eyes. I had a sister that married a man that beat
her, and then run off to Injianny, leavin' her with six children to
support. All the mean men go to Injianny. Cl'ar out. We don't want
nobody 'round heah, and specially no Injiannians. They'uns is a pizun
lot."

"Yes, cl'ar out immejitly," commanded the old man. "I'm a Jestice of the
Peace, and ef you don't go to wunst I'll find a way to make yo'. We've a
law agin able-bodied vagrants. Cl'ar out, now."

"Come, have a little sense," said the Deacon, not a little roiled at the
abuse of his State. "I'm just as respectable a man as you dare be. I
never stole anything. I've bin all my life a regler member o' the
Baptist Church strict, close-communion, total-immersion Baptists. All I
want o' you is to buy some o' them chickens there, and I'll give you a
fair price for 'em. No use o' your flaring up over a little matter o'
bizniss."

"I don't believe a word of hit," said the woman, who yet showed that she
was touched by the allusion to the Baptist Church, as the Deacon had
calculated, for most of the people of that section professed to be of
that denomination. "What'll yo' gi' me for them chickens?"

The bargaining instinct arose in the Deacon's mind, but he repressed it.
He had no time to waste. He would make an offer that at home would be
considered wildly extravagant, close the business at once and get back
to Chattanooga. He said: "I'll give you a dollar apiece for five."

'he Took Another Look at his Heavy Revolver.' 254

"Humph," said the woman contemptuously. "I don't sell them for no dollar
apiece. They'uns 's all we got to live on now. If I sell 'em I must git
somethin' that'll go jest as fur. You kin have 'em at $5 apiece."

"Betsy," remonstrated the old man, "I'm afeard this 's wrong, and as a
Magistrate I shouldn't allow hit. Hit's traffickin' with the inemy."

"No, hit hain't," she asserted. "He's not a soljer. He's a citizen, and
don't belong to the army. Besides, he's a Baptist, and hit hain't so bad
as ef he wuz a Presbyterian, or a shoutin' Methodist. Most of all, I'm
nearly dead for some coffee, and I know whar I kin git a pound o' rayle
coffee for $10."

The Deacon had been pondering. To his thrifty mind it seemed like a
waste to give a crisp, new $5 bill for such an insignificant thing as a
chicken. Like Indiana farmers of his period, he regarded such things as
chickens, eggs, butter, etc., as "too trifling for full-grown men to
bother about. They were wholly women-folks' truck." He fingered the
bills in his bosom, and thought how many bushels of wheat and pounds of
pork they represented. Then he thought of Si in the hospital, and how a
little chicken broth would build him up. Out came five new $5 bills.

"Here's your money," he said, thumbing over the bills clumsily and
regretfully.

The old woman lowered her spectacles from the top of her head, and
scrutinized them.

"What's them?" she asked suspiciously.

"Why, them's greenbacks Government money the very best kind," explained
the Deacon. "You can't have no better'n that."

"Don't tech hit! Don't have nothin' to do with it!" shouted the old man.
"Hit's high treason to take Federal money. Law's awful severe about
that. Not less'n one year, nor more'n 20 in the penitentiary, for a
citizen, and death for a soljer, to be ketched dealin' in the inemy's
money. I kin turn yo' right to the law. Ole man, take yo' money and
cl'ar off the place immejitly. Go out and gather up yo' chickens, Betsy,
and fasten 'em in the coop. Go away, sah, 'or I shell blow the horn for
help."

"I wuz talkin' 'bout Confederit money," said the woman, half
apologetically. "I wouldn't tech that 'ere stuff with a soap-stick. Yo'd
better git away as quick as yo' kin ef yo' know what's good for yo'."

She went into the yard to gather up her flock, and the Deacon walked
back into the road. When out of sight he sat down on a rock to meditate.
There was not another house in sight anywhere, and it was rapidly
growing dark. If he went to an other house he would probably have the
same experience. He had set his heart on having those chickens, and he
was a pretty stubborn man. Somehow, in spite of himself, he parted the
bushes and looked through to see where the woman was housing her fowls,
and noted that it was going to be very dark. Then he blushed vividly,
all to himself, over the thoughts which arose.

"To think of me, a Deacon in the Baptist Church, akchelly meditatin'
about goin' to another man's coop at night and stealin' his chickens?
Could Maria ever be made to believe such a thing? I can't be lieve it
myself."

Then he made himself think of all the other ways in which he might get
chickens. They all seemed impossible. He turned again to those in the
coop.

"Nothin' but measly dunhills, after all dear at a fip-and-a-bit, and yet
I offered her a dollar apiece for 'em. If she'd bin a real Christian
woman she'd bin glad to 've given me the chickens for as sick as man as
Si is. Gracious, mother'd give every chicken on the place, if it'd help
a sick person, and be glad o' the chance. They're both tough old rebels,
anyhow, and their property oughtter be confiscated."

He stopped and considered the morals of the affair a little further, and
somehow the idea of taking the fowls by stealth did not seem so
abhorrent as at first. Then, everything was overslaughed by the thought
of going into camp with the precious birds, of cleaning one and
carefully stewing it, making a delicate, fragrant broth, the very smell
of which would revive Si, and every spoonful bring nourishment and
strength.

"Mebbe the army's demoralizin' me," he said to himself; "but I believe
it's a work o' necessity and mercy, that don't stand on nice
considerations. I'm goin' to have five o' them chickens, or know the
reason why."

As has been before remarked, when Deacon Klegg made up his mind
something had to happen. It was now quite dark. He took one of the $5
bills out of his breast pocket and put it in a pocket where it would be
handy. He looked over at the house, and saw the old man and woman
sitting by the fire smoking. He picked up the hickory withe to keep off
the dogs, and made a circuit to reach the chicken-coop from the rear of
the house. The dogs were quarreling and snarling over their supper, and
paid no attention to him, until he had reached the coop, when they came
at him full tilt.

The Deacon dealt the foremost ones such vicious blows that the beasts
fell as if they had been cut in two, and ran howling under the house.
With a quickness and skill that would have done credit to any veteran in
the army, he snatched five chickens from their roosts, wrung their
necks, and gathered them in his left hand. Alarmed by the noise of the
barking and yelping, the old couple flung open the door and rushed out
on the porch with shouts. The open door threw a long lane of bright
light directly on the Deacon.

"Blow the horn, granddad blow the horn," screamed the woman. Her husband
snatched the tin horn down from the wall, and put all his anger into a
ringing blast. It was immediately answered by a shot from a distant
hill. Still holding his game in his left hand, the Deacon pulled the $5
bill out of his pocket with his right, walked up to the porch, laid it
at the woman's feet and put a stone on it.

"There's full pay for your dumbed old dunghills, you cantankerous
rebel," said he, as he disappeared into the darkness. "Go into the house
and pray that the Lord may soften your heart, which is harder than
Pharaoh's, until you have some Christian grace."

When he reached the road he could hear the sound of hoofs galloping
toward the house. He smiled grimly, but kept under the shadow of the
trees until he reached the main road leading to Chattanooga, where he
was lucky enough to find a train making its slow progress toward the
town, and kept with it until he was within our lines.



CHAPTER XX. STEWED CHICKEN THE DEACON'S CULINARY OPERATIONS BRING HIM
LOTS OF TROUBLE.

THE Deacon reached the corn-crib again be fore daylight, and found Si
and Shorty fast asleep. This relieved him much, for he had been
disturbed with apprehensions of what might happen them while he was
gone. Though he was more tired, it seemed to him, than he had ever been
before in all his life, yet he nerved himself up to clean and cook one
of the chickens, so as to give Si a delightful surprise when he awoke.

The Deacon had grown so wise in the army ways that his first problem was
how to hide the remaining four fowls until he should need them.

"I'd simply be mobbed," he communed with him self, "if daylight should
come, and show me with four chickens in my possession. The whole Army o'
the Cumberland 'd jump me as one man, and I'd be lucky if I got away
with my life. Mebbe even the General himself 'd send a regiment down to
take the things away from me. But what kin I do with 'em? If I hang 'em
up inside the corn-crib they'll spile. The weather is cold enough to
keep 'em outside, but I'd need a burglar-proof safe to hold on to 'em.
It's just awful that morals are so bad in the army, and that men will
take things that don't belong to 'em."

He stopped short, for there arose the disturbing thought as to just how
he himself had come into possession of the birds, and he murmured:

"'Tain't in me to blame 'em. What is 't the Bible says about 'Let him
who is without sin cast the first stone?' Certainly I'm not the man to
be heavin' dornicks just now."

Mindful of past experiences, he took the fowls in one hand, when he went
down to the branch with a camp-kettle to get water. He washed his face
and hands in the cold water, which revived him, and returning, built a
fire and hung the kettle over it, while he carefully picked and cleaned
one of the chickens for cooking. Then he plucked and cleaned the others,
and burned the feathers and entrails in the fire.

"Chicken feathers 's mighty tell-tale things," he said to himself. "I
once knowed a man that was finally landed in the penitentiary because he
didn't look out for chicken feathers. He'd bin stealin' hosses, and was
hidin' with them in the big swamp, where nobody would 've suspicioned he
was, if he hadn't stole chickens from the neighborhood to live on, and
left their feathers layin' around careless like, and some boys, who
thought the foxes was killin' the chickens, followed up the trail and
run onto him."

Then a bright idea occurred to him. He had a piece of board, which he
laid on the stones that formed the foundation of one end of the crib,
immediately under the flooring, and on this shelf he laid the other
chickens.

"I remember that Wash Jenkins that we arrested for counterfeitin' had
hid his pile o' pewter dollars in the underpinnin' of his cabin, and
we'd never found any stuff to convict him, except by the merest
accident. We hunted all through his cabin, below and in the loft, pulled
the clapboards off, and dug up every likely place in the yard, and just
about as we wuz givin' the whole thing up, somebody pulled a board out
o' the underpinnin' to lay in the bed o' his wagon, and the bogus
dollars run out. Wash made shoes for the State down at Jeffersonville
for some years on account of that man wantin' a piece o' board for his
wagon-bed."

But the astute Deacon had overlooked one thing in his calculations. The
crisp morning air was filled with the pungent smell of burning feathers
and flesh, and the fragrance of stewing chicken. It reached hungry men
in every direction, made their mouths water and their minds wonder where
it could come from.

First came a famished dog, sniffing and nosing around. His appearance
filled the Deacon with alarm. Here was danger to his hidden stock that
he had not thought of. He took his resolution at once. Decoying the cur
near him he fastened a sinewy hand upon his neck, cut his throat with
his jack-knife, and dragged the carcass some distance away from the
corn-crib.

"I'll git a mattock and shovel and bury it after awhile," he murmured to
himself, as he returned and washed his hands. "He's settled for good,
any way. He won't be snoopin' around steal in' my chickens. I hope there
hain't no more measly hounds around. Should've thought they wuz all
starved out long ago. My! but that chicken does smell so nice. How Si
and Shorty will enjoy it. It'll build 'em right up. I'd like awfully to
take some of it myself, but they'll need every drop, poor fellows."

He got a spoon, and tested some of the broth appreciatively.

"Mother'd done much better, at home in her own kitchen, or anywhere you
could've put her, than me with my clumsy ways," he continued, "but she
never cooked anything that'll taste better to them boys."

A negro cook appeared, with a tin cup in his hand.

"Afo' de Lawd, Boss, is hit you dat's cookin' dat chicking? I done
smelled hit more'n a miled away, and hab been huntin' foh hit all ober
camp. Say, Boss, foh de Lawd's sake, jist gib me a little teenty, weenty
sup in dis heah tin cup for my boss. He's an ossifer, an' is layin' in
de ossifer's horsepitol ober dar. Hit'll do him a powerful sight ob
good."

"Awful Sorry, my friend," said the Deacon, hardening his heart, "but I
haven't a bit to spare. Hain't got as much as I need for my own son and
his partner. I couldn't spare a mouthful for the General o' the army
even. Let your Colonel or Major sendout men to git chickens for
himself."

"My boss'll be powehful disappunted," said the negro, with his big,
white eyes full of tears. "He's powehful weak, foh sartin. A leetle sup
ob broth'd do him an everlastin' world ob good. He ain't no Kunnel or
Majah. He's only a Cappen Cappen McGillicuddy, ob the 200th Injianny."

"Capt. McGillicuddy, o' the 200th Injianny," said the Deacon, much
moved. "You Bay you're Capt. McGillicuddy's man?"

"Yes, boss."

"And he's layin' very low over in a tent there?"

"Yes, boss. Got shot in de thigh in de battle, an' den had de feber.
He's de very best man in de world, and I'd do ennyt'ing to help him.
He's jest starvin' to def. I can't git nuffin' dat'll lay on his
stummick, and stick to his ribs. I've done ransacked de hull camp and de
country clean up to Jineral Bragg's Headquartehs. De tings dat I
couldn't git wuz eider chained down, or had a man wid a gun ober dem.
Foh Gawd's sake, boss, jist gib me a half a cupful for him."

"There's no man in the world I'd rather help than Capt. McGillicuddy,"
said the Deacon. "He's bin a mighty good friend to my son. I know that
Si and Shorty'd divide their last crumb with him. Look here, Sambo, if I
give you a cupful o' this broth and a piece o' the meat, will you git
down on your knees and swear you'll take every bit straight to him, and
not take even a smidjin of it for your self?"

"De Lawd be praised and magnified foreber, but I will," said the negro,
dropping on his knees and holding up his hand. "Swar me on a pile o'
Bibles big as a haystack. I'd radder go to hell on my knees backward dan
tech de fust drap ob dat. I's too anxious to hab Cappen McGillicuddy git
well, so I is. What'd become ob dis pore niggeh if he should die? No,
indeedy. Hope I'll drap dead in my tracks if I taste de least wee
morssel."

"I'm goin' to trust you," said the Deacon, stirring up the savory mess,
ladling out a generous cupful, adding a drumstick, and covering the cup
with a piece of paper. "Now, carry it carefully. Every drop's worth its
weight in gold."

The Deacon looked a little regretful at the shrinking of the contents of
the kettle, made by taking out the cupful, and said:

"Mebbe I oughtn't 've done it. The boys need every spoonful. But if it'd
bin themselves, I know they'd have given their Captain more'n I did. He
is twice blessed that giveth, and probably they'll git more somehow on
account o' what I've given away. But I mustn't give any more."

"Say, Mister," said a very feeble voice at his elbow, "can't you give me
a cupful o' that? It smells so good. It smells like home. I smelled it
away over there in the tent, and it seemed to me that if I could get
some of it I'd certainly get well, though they all say they think
there's no hope for me. I crawled out of the tent and come while the
nurse was asleep and wasn't watching. They won't let me get upon my feet
when they're watching me, but I fooled them this time."

As he spoke, he sank down from sheer exhaustion, but still held out his
cup imploringly, while an in tense longing filled his great, blue eyes.

The Deacon looked pityingly at him. His wan face was fair and delicate
as a girl's, and even be fore disease had wasted him he had been very
tall and slender. Now his uniform flapped around his shrunken body and
limbs.

The Deacon could not stand the appeal of those great, plaintive eyes and
that wasted form.

"The Lord blesses the giver," he said, taking the cup from the thin
hand, and proceeding to fill it from the kettle. "It may be that my own
son will have the more from what I give this poor sick boy. It may be
bread cast upon the waters. At any rate, I'm goin' to take the chances.
There's still enough left for one meal for Si and Shorty, and I've four
chickens left. After that the Lord'll provide. I'll do this in His name,
and I'll trust Him. There, my boy, let the cup set on the ground till it
cools, and then drink it, and here's a piece o' bread to go with it."

The boy could scarcely wait for the cooling, and his swimming eyes
expressed a gratitude that no words could convey.

"Here, pardner, I'll take a cupful o' that 'ere, too," said a frazzled
and frowsy teamster, shambling up through the half-light of the dawn. "I
smelled it, and follered my nose till it brung me here. My, but it
smells good! Jest fill my cup, and I'll do as much for you some time
when you're hungry."

"Go away, Groundhog," said the Deacon, recognizing him. "I've only got a
little here for Si and Shorty. I hain't a spoonful left for myself, and
none to give away. Go and get your own chickens, and bile 'em yourself."

"Can't have any, eh?" said Groundhog, swagger ing up. "We'll see about
that, old man. I watched you givin' away to that nigger, and this little
dead-beat here, but you hain't none to give me, who is doin' hard work
for the army, and helpin' keep 'em from starvin'. If you've got enough
for that nigger and that whinin' boy you've got enough for me, and I'm
goin' to have it, for I need it."

"You're not goin' to have a dumbed spoonful, Groundhog. Go away. I
hain't enough for Si and Shorty, I tell you. Go away."

"And I tell you I need it more'n they do, for I'm workin' for the whole
army, while they're layin' around, makin' out they're sick. You give me
a cupful o' that and I'll go away and make no trouble.

"If you don't I'll kick the whole kettle over. An old fool citizen like
you 's got no business in camp, any way, and no right to be havin'
things that ought to go to the laborin' men."

And he raised his foot threateningly.

The Deacon laid down the spoon with which he had been stirring the
broth, and doubling up his mighty fist, placed himself between Groundhog
and the kettle, and said:

'if You Don't Skip out O' Here This Minute I'll Bust Your Head As I
Would a Punkin.' 264

"Groundhog, I'm an old man, and always have bin a man o' peace. I don't
believe in no kind o' fightin', nor molestin' no one. I belong to
church, and 've always tried to lead a Christian life. But if you don't
skip out o' here this minute, I'll bust your head as I would a punkin."

Groundhog retreated a few steps, but still kept up a show of
determination.

"What are you foolin' with the ole hayseed for?" said another teamster,
coming up behind Groundhog. "Slap the old hawbuck over, snatch up the
kittle and run with it. I'll do it if you don't."

"Go for 'em, Deacon; I'm with you. We kin lick both of 'em," shouted
Shorty, who had been awakened by the noise of the dispute, and came
tottering out, trying to raise a stick of wood for a club.

At that moment a rebel cannon roared on Lookout Mountain, just over
them, and the wicked screech of a shell cleft the air. Both of the team
sters dropped on the ground in a paralysis of fear.

"The rebels 've got a new battery planted on the mountain," said Shorty,
turning to study the smoke that drifted away, in order to get its
location.

"The shell struck right over there, and hain't bursted yet," said the
sick boy, looking up from sipping his broth, and pointing to a spot a
short distance away. "I can hear the hissing of the fuse."

The teamsters sprang up like jacks-in-the-box, and ran with all the
power of their legs. By the time the explosion came they were hundreds
of yards away.

A column of dirt and stones was thrown up, of which a little sprinkle
reached the fire. Thousands of voices yelled derisively at the rebel
gunner.

"They're shootin' wuss and wuss every day," remarked Shorty, after
judicially considering the shot and making comparison with its
predecessors. "They'll git so after awhile that they can't hit the
Tennessee Valley."

"Shorty," said the Deacon, "take this revolver and watch that kittle
while I wash Si's face, and git him ready for his breakfast. If you let
anybody git away with it you lose your breakfast. If I ever go into
restaurantin' for a bizniss, I'm goin' to find a quieter neighborhood
than Chattanoogy. I ain't exactly grumblin', so to speak, but there's
enough excitement before breakfast every mornin' to last me a full
year."



SI KLEGG The Deacon's Adventures At Chattanooga In Caring For The Boys



By John McElroy



Book Five



Published By

The National Tribune Company,

Washington, D. C.

Second Edition

Copyright 1912



THE SIX VOLUMES SI KLEGG, Book I, Transformation From a Raw Recruit SI
KLEGG, Book II, Through the Stone River Campaign SI KLEGG, Book III,
Meets Mr. Rosenbaum, the Spy SI KLEGG, Book IV, On The Great Tullahoma
Campaign SI KLEGG, Book V, Deacon's Adventures At Chattanooga SI KLEGG,
Book VI, Enter On The Atlanta Campaign



frontispiece (98K)



titlepage (28K)



CONTENTS


PREFACE

SI KLEGG

CHAPTER I. THE DEACON PROVIDES

CHAPTER II. THE DEACON ATTEMPTED RESTITUTION

CHAPTER III. A COW IN CAMP

CHAPTER IV. THE DEACON'S PLAN

CHAPTER V. TROUBLE ENCOUNTERED

CHAPTER VI. THE BOYS IN THE OLD HOME ON BEAN BLOSSOM CREEK

CHAPTER VII. WEEKS OF CONVALESCENCE

CHAPTER VIII. SI IS PROMOTED

CHAPTER IX. SHORTY IN TROUBLE

CHAPTER X. SHORTY AS ORDERLY

CHAPTER XI. SHORTY RUNS HEADQUARTERS

CHAPTER XII. SHORTY ON A HUNT

CHAPTER XIII. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING

CHAPTER XIV. GUARDING THE KNIGHTS

CHAPTER XV. OFF FOR THE FRONT

CHAPTER XVI. THE TROUBLESOME BOYS

CHAPTER XVII. THE FRIGHTENED SURGEON

CHAPTER XVIII.   NO PEACE FOR SI AND SHORTY

CHAPTER XIX. THE FIRST SCRAPE

CHAPTER XX. AFTER THE SKIRMISH

CHAPTER XXI. CHATTANOOGA AT LAST



ILLUSTRTIONS


Git Down from There! Commanded the Deacon 21

Well, I'll Be Dumbed, Muttered the Deacon. 35

Purty Good Milker, is She? Inquired the Deacon 51

The Deacon Reconnoitered the Situation 62

In Despair, the Deacon Turned to a Major. 77

"Arabella Curled Her Lip at Seeing Maria Take the Baby." 87

Shorty Went Outside Where There Was More Air. 101

"Sammy," Said Shorty, "I'm Goin' Away Right Off, and I Don't Want the
People to Know Nothin' of It." 113

Why, It's Shorty! Said the General, Recognizing Him At Once 129

"What Do You Think of That?" Said the Gambler. 141

Don't You Know Better Than to Come To Headquarters Like That? 156

How Do You Like the Looks of That, Old Butternut 169

The Prisoners Had Too Much Solicitude About Their Garments to Think of
Anything Else. 185

Have Come, Sir, in the Name of The People Of Indiana To Demand the
Release of Those Men. 199

I'll Send You a Catridge and Cap for Every Word You Write About Maria.
213

Here, You Young Brats, What Are You up to 225

Smallpox, Your Granny, Said si 237

There Was a Chorus of Yells, and then Another Volley. 247

Watching the Bridge Burners at Work 259

Wild Shooting of the Boys Saves The Surprised Colored Man. 273



PREFACE

"Si Klegg, of the 200th Ind., and Shorty, his Partner," were born years
ago in the brain of John McElroy, Editor of The National Tribune.

These sketches are the original ones published in The National Tribune,
revised and enlarged somewhat by the author. How true they are to nature
every veteran can abundantly testify from his own service. Really, only
the name of the regiment was invented. There is no doubt that there were
several men of the name of Josiah Klegg in the Union Army, and who did
valiant service for the Government. They had experiences akin to, if not
identical with, those narrated here, and substantially every man who
faithfully and bravely carried a musket in defense of the best
Government on earth had sometimes, if not often, experiences of which
those of Si Klegg are a strong reminder.'

The Publishers.



THIS BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO THE RANK AND FILE OF THE GRANDEST
ARMY EVER MUSTERED FOR WAR.



SI KLEGG



CHAPTER I. THE DEACON PROVIDES RESORTS TO HIGHWAY ROBBERY AND HORSE
STEALING.

THE Deacon was repaid seventyfold by Si's and Shorty's enjoyment of the
stew he had prepared for them, and the extraordinary good it had seemed
to do them as they lay wounded in the hospital at Chattanooga, to which
place the Deacon had gone as soon as he learned that Si was hurt in the
battle.

"I won't go back on mother for a minute," said Si, with brightened eyes
and stronger voice, after he had drained the last precious drop of the
broth, and was sucking luxuriously on the bones; "she kin cook chickens
better'n any woman that ever lived. All the same, I never knowed how
good chicken could taste before."

"Jehosephat, the way that does take the wrinkles out down here," said
Shorty, rubbing appreciatively the front of his pantaloons. "I feel as
smooth as if I'd bin starched and ironed, and there's new life clear
down to my toe-nails. If me and Si could only have a chicken a day for
the next 10 days we'd feel like goin' up there on the Ridge and bootin'
old Bragg off the hill. Wouldn't we, Si?"

"Guess so," acceded Si cheerily, "if every one made us feel as much
better as this one has. How in the world did you git the chicken, Pap?"

"Little boys should eat what's set before 'em, and ask no questions,"
said the father, coloring. "It's bad manners to be pryin' around the
kitchen to find out where the vittles come from."

"Well, I've got to take off my hat to you as a forager," said Shorty. "A
man that kin find a chicken in Chattenoogy now, and hold on to it long
enough to git it in the pot, kin give me lessons in the art. When I git
strong enough to travel agin I want you to learn me the trick."

The Deacon did not reply to the raillery. He was pondering anxiously
about the preservation of his four remaining chickens. The good results
manifest from cooking the first only made him more solicitous about the
others. Several half-famished dogs had come prowling around, from no one
knew where. He dared not kill them in daylight. He knew that probably
some, if not all, of them had masters, and the worse and more dangerous
a dog is the more bitterly his owner resents any attack upon him. Then,
even hungrier looking men with keen eyes and alert noses wandered near,
with inquiry in every motion. He would have liked to take Shorty into
his confidence, but he feared that the ravenous appetite of
convalescence would prove too much for that gentleman's continence.

He kept thinking about it while engaged in what he called "doin' up the
chores," that is, making Si and Shorty comfortable for the day, before
he lay down to take a much-needed rest. He had never been so puzzled in
all his life. He thought of burying them in the ground, but dismissed
that because he would be seen digging the hole and putting them in, and
if he should escape observation, the dogs would be pretty certain to
nose them out and dig them up. Sinking them in the creek suggested
itself, but had to be dismissed for various reasons, one being fear that
the ravenous catfish would devour them.

"If I only had a balloon," he murmured to himself, "I might send 'em up
in that. That's the only safe way I kin think of. Yes, there's another
way. I've intended to put a stone foundation under that crib, and daub
it well, so's to stop the drafts. It orter be done, but it's a hard
day's work, even with help, and I'm mortal tired. But I s'pose it's the
only way, and I've got to put in stones so big that a dog can't pull 'em
out."

He secured a couple of negroes, at prices which would have paid for
highly-skilled labor in Indiana, to roll up enough large stones to fill
in the space under the crib, and then he filled all the crevices with
smaller ones, and daubed over the whole with clay.

"There," he said, as he washed the clay from his hands, "I think them
chickens are safe for to-night from the dogs, and probably from the men.
Think of all that trouble for four footy chickens not worth more'n four
bits in Injianny. They're as much bother as a drove o' steer'd be. I
think I kin now lay down and take a wink o' sleep."

He was soon sleeping as soundly as only a thoroughly-tired man can, and
would have slept no one knows how long, had not Shorty succeeded in
waking him towards morning, after a shaking which exhausted the latter's
strength.

"Wake up, Mister Klegg," said Shorty; "it must 've bin rainin' dogs, and
they're tryin' to tear the shanty down."

The Deacon rubbed his eyes and hastened a moment to the clamor outside.
It seemed as if there were a thousand curs surrounding them, barking,
howling, snarling, fighting, and scratching. He snatched up a club and
sprang out, while Shorty tottered after. He ran into the midst of the
pack, and began laying about with his strong arms. He broke the backs of
some, brained others, and sent the others yelping with pain and fright,
except two particularly vicious ones, who were so frenzied with hunger
that they attacked him, and bit him pretty severely before he succeeded
in killing them. Then he went around to the end of the crib nearest his
precious hoard, and found that the hungry brutes had torn away his clay
and even the larger of the stones, and nothing but their fighting among
themselves had prevented the loss of his chickens. "What in tarnation
set the beasts onto us," inquired Shorty wonderingly. "They were wuss'n
cats around catnip, rats after aniseed, or cattle about a spot o' blood.
I've felt that me and Si wuz in shape to bring the crows and buzzards
around, but didn't expect to start the dogs up this way."

"I've got four chickens hid under the underpinnin' there for you and
Si," confessed the Deacon. "The dogs seemed to 've smelled 'em out and
wuz after 'em."

He went to the hiding place and pulled out the fowls one after another.
"They are all here," he said; "but how in the world am I goin' to keep
'em through another night?"

"You ain't a-goin' to keep 'em through another night, are you?" asked
Shorty anxiously, as he gloated over the sight. "Le's eat 'em to-day."

"And starve to-morrer?" said the thrifty Deacon rebukingly. "I don't
know where any more is comin' from. It was hard enough work gittin'
these. I had calculated on cookin' one a day for you and Si. That'd make
'em provide for four more days. After that only the Lord knows what
we'll do."

"Inasmuch as we'll have to trust to the Lord at last, anyway," said
Shorty, with a return of his old spirit, "why not go the whole gamut? A
day or two more or less won't make no difference to Him. I feel as if I
could eat 'em all myself without Si's help."

"I tell you what I'll do," said the Deacon, after a little
consideration. "I feel as if both Si and you kin stand a little more'n
you had yesterday. I'll cook two to-day. We'll send a big cupful over to
Capt. McGillicuddy. That'll leave us two for to-morrer. After that we'll
have to trust to Providence."

"If ever there was a time when He could use His ravens to advantage,"
said the irreverent Shorty, "it's about now. They carried bread and meat
to that old prophet. There's a lot o' mighty good men down here in this
valley now in terrible want of grub, and nothin' but birds kin git over
the roads to the rear very well."

"Don't speak lightly o' the Lord and His ways, Shorty," said the Deacon
severely.

"'Judge not the Lord by feeble sense, But trust Him for His grace.
Behind a frowning Providence He hides a smilin' face,'

as the hymn says. Here, take these chickens in one hand and this pistol
in the other, and guard 'em while I go down to the branch and wash and
git some water. Then I'll cook your breakfast."

Again the savory smell of the boiling chickens attracted sick boys, who
begged for a little of the precious food. Having double the quantity,
the Deacon was a little more liberal, but he had to restrain Shorty,
who, despite his own great and gnawing hunger, would have given away the
bigger part of the broth to those who so desperately needed it.

"No, Shorty," said the prudent Deacon. "Our first duty is to ourselves.
We kin help them by gittin' you and Si on your feet. We can't feed the
whole Army o' the Cumberland, though I'd like to."

A generous cupful was set aside for Capt. McGillicuddy, which his
servant received with gratitude and glowing reports of the good the
former supply had done him.

With the daylight came the usual shells from the rebel guns on Lookout
Mountain. Even the Deacon was getting used to this noisy salutation to
the morn, and he watched the shells strike harmlessly in the distance
with little tremor of his nerves. As the firing ceased, amid the
derisive yells of the army, he said quietly:

Git Down from There! Commanded the Deacon 21

"That last shell's saved me a good deal o' work diggin'. It, tore out a
hole that'll just do to bury the carcasses of these dogs."

Accordingly, he dragged the carcasses over after breakfast, and threw
the dirt back in the hole upon them.

The two remaining chickens were stowed in a haversack, and during the
day hung outside from the ridge-pole of the crib, where they were
constantly under the eye of either the Deacon or Shorty, who took turns
watching them. That night the Deacon slept with them under his head,
though they were beginning to turn a little, and their increasing
gameness brought a still larger herd of dogs about. But the Deacon had
securely fastened the door, and he let them rage around as they pleased.

When they were cooked and eaten the next morning the Deacon became
oppressed with anxious thought. Where were the next to come from? The
boys had improved so remarkably that he was doubly anxious to continue
the nourishing diet, which he felt was necessary to secure their speedy
recovery. Without it they would probably relapse.

He could think of nothing but to go back again to the valley where he
got the chickens, and this seemed a most desperate chance, for the
moment that either of the old couple set eyes on him he or she would
give the alarm. He went to sleep thinking about the matter, and when he
rose up in the morning, and had nothing to offer his boys but the coarse
and uninviting hardtack, pork and coffee, he made up his mind to take
the chances, whatever they might be. He set out again immediately after
breakfast, and by cutting across the mountain came to the entrance to
the valley a little after noon. Keeping close under cover of the woods,
he approached within sight of the house, and carefully scanned it. What
to do he had scarcely planned. He was only determined to have some fresh
meat to take back to camp. He was going to get it as honestly and fairly
as he could, but fresh meat he must have.

He could see no other house anywhere in the distance, and probably if he
went farther he would run into rebel bushwhackers and guerrillas, who
were watching from the high ridges. So long as he kept under cover of
the woods he would feel all right, for he was as skilled in woodcraft as
any of them, and could take care of himself. But if he should come out
into the open fields and road to cross the valley they would have him at
an advantage. He was confirmed in this fear by seeing several little
clouds of smoke rise up above the tops of the trees on the ridge.

"There's a gang of rebels in camp over there," said he to himself, with
a woodman's quick reading of every sign. "That smoke's from their fires.
'Tain't enough of it to be clearin' ground; people ain't clearin' up at
this time o' year; that ground over there ain't the kind they'd clear up
for anything. 'Twouldn't raise white beans if it was cleared; and you
don't hear nobody choppin'."

He looked again at the house. Everything was very quiet and peaceful
around it. There was no stock in the barnyard or fields, and the only
signs of life were the smoke rising from one of the great stone
chimneys, the chickens picking and scratching in the garden, a couple of
negresses, who occasionlly passed back and forth between the main house
and another cabin apparently used as a kitchen.

The Deacon had almost made up his mind to march boldly down to the
house, snatch up a few of the chickens, and make his way back to the
woods again, before the old couple could summon assistance. Suddenly his
quick eyes caught a glimpse of something at a point where the road from
the ridge came down out of the woods. Then that something developed into
a man on horseback, who rode forward to a little rise, stopped, and
surveyed the landscape cautiously, and then rode forward toward the
house.

He dismounted and entered the house. In a few minutes there appeared
unusual bustle and activity, during which the man rode back again,
munching as he went at a piece of cornpone and one of meat, which he had
gotten at the house, and held in either hand, while his reins lay on his
horse's neck.

The old woman came out into the yard with some meat in her hand, and the
shrill note of her orders to the negresses reached the Deacon's ears,
though he could not make out the words. But he saw one of them go to the
spring and bring water, which she poured in a wash-kettle set up in the
yard, while the old woman prepared the beef and put it in, the other
negress started a fire, and the old man chopped and split wood to put
around the kettle and fill the stone oven near by.

"They're cookin' vittels for them rebels on the ridge." The Deacon
correctly diagnosed the situation. "By-and-by they'll come for 'em, or
take 'em to 'em. Mebbe I kin find some way to collar some of 'em. It's a
slim chance, but no other seems to show up just now. If no more'n one
man comes for that grub I'm goin' to jump him."

The Deacon looked at the caps on his revolver and began laying plans for
a strategic advance under the cover of the sumachs to a point where he
could command the road to the house.

His cheek paled for an instant as the thought obtruded that the man
might resist and he have to really shoot him.

"I don't want to shoot nobody," he communed with himself, "and it won't
'be necessary if the other fellow is only sensible and sees, that I've
got the drop on him, which I will have before I say a word. Anyway, I
want that grub for a work of necessity and mercy, which justifies many
things, and as a loyal man I ought to keep it from goin' to rebels. If
I've got to put a bullet into another feller, why, the Lord'll hold me
guiltless and blame the other feller. I ain't no Free Will Baptist. I
believe things 've bin foreordained. Wisht I knowed that it was
foreordained that I was to git that grub back to Si and Shorty."

Presently he saw the old man come out and take a path into the woods. He
cautiously circled around to where he could follow and watch him. He saw
him make his way to a secluded little cove, where there was a corn-crib
partially filled and a rude shelter, under which were a buckboard and
fairly-good young horse. The old man began putting the clumsy harness of
ropes, chains and patched leather on the horse and hitching him to the
buckboard.

"Good, the old man's goin' to take the grub out to 'em himself," thought
the Deacon with relief. "He'll be easy to manage. No need o' shootin'
him."

He hurried back to his covert, and then shpped unseen down to where he
had selected for his ambush. The old man drove the buckboard around to
the front of the house, and the negresses, obeying the shrill orders of
the old woman, brought out pones of smoking cornbread, and buckets, tin
pans and crocks containing the meat, potatoes, turnips and other food,
and loaded them on to the buckboard. The fragrance of the food reached
the Deacon's nostrils, and made his mouth water and fond anticipations
rise as to the good it would do the boys.

"I'll have that grub, and the boys shall have it," he determined, "or
there'll be an Injianny Deacon pretty badly used up."

The old man mounted into the seat, gathered up the rope lines, and
chirruped to the horse to start.

When he came opposite, the Deacon jumped out, seized the reins, and
pointing his revolver at him, commanded sternly:

"Git down from there, and git down quick."

The old man dropped the lines, and for an instant gazed at him with
scared eyes.

"Why, yo' robber, what d'yo' mean?" he gasped.

"Git down from there, and git down quick!" repeated the Deacon.

"Why, this is highway robbery, threats, puttin' in bodily fear,
attempted murder, hoss-stealin'."

"Hain't no time to argy law with you," said the Deacon impatiently.
"This ain't no court-room. You ain't in session now. Git down, and git
down quick!"

"Help! help! murder! robbery! thieves!" shouted the old man, at the top
of his voice.

The negresses, who had been watching their master depart, set to
screaming, and the old woman rushed back into the house and blew the
horn. The Deacon thrust his revolver back into the holster, caught the
old man with his sinewy hand, tore him from the seat, and flung him into
the fence-corner. He sprang into the seat, turned the horse's head
toward Chattanooga, and hit him a sharp cut with a switch that lay in
the wagon.

"I've got about three miles the start," he said as he rattled off. "This
horse's young and fresh, while their's probably run down. The road from
here to the main road's tollably good, and I think I kin git there
before they kin overtake me."

At the top of the hill he looked back, and saw the rebels coming out.
Apparently they had not understood what had happened. They had seen no
Yankees and could not have seen the Deacon's tussle with the old man.
They supposed that the holler simply meant for them to come in and get
their dinner, instead of having it taken out to them. All this passed
through the Deacon's mind, and he chuckled over the additional start it
would give him.

"They won't find out nothin' till they git clean to the house," he said.
"By that time I'll be mighty nigh the main road. My, but wouldn't I like
to have as many dollars as they'll be mad when they find the Yankee
trick that's bin played on 'em, with their dinner hauled off into the
Union camp."

He rattled ahead sharply for some time, looking back at each top of a
hill for his pursuers. They did not come in sight, but the main road to
Chattanooga did, and then a new trouble suggested itself.

"I won't never dare haul this load uncovered through camp," he said to
himself. "The first gang o' roustabout teamsters that I meet'll take
every spoonful of the vittles, and I'd be lucky if I have the horse and
wagon left. I must hide it some way. How? That's a puzzler."

At length a happy idea occurred to him. He stopped by a cedar thicket,
and with his jack-knife cut a big load of cedar boughs, which he piled
on until every bit of food was thoroughly concealed. This took much
time, and as he was finishing he heard a yell on the hill behind, and
saw a squad of rebels riding down toward him. He sprang to the seat,
whipped up his horse, and as he reached the main road was rejoiced to
see a squad of Union cavalry approaching.

"Here, old man," said the Lieutenant in command; "who are you, and what
are you doing here?"

"I'm a nurse in the hospital," answered the Deacon unhesitatingly. "I
was sent out here to get some cedar boughs to make beds in the hospital.
Say, there's some rebels out there, comin' down the hill. They saw me
and tuk after me. You'll find 'em right over the hill."

"That's a pretty slick horse you're driving," said the Lieutenant.
"Looks entirely too slick to belong to Chattanooga. It's a much better
horse than mine. I've a notion\x97"

"Say, them rebels are just over the hill, I tell you," said the Deacon
in a fever of apprehension of losing his steed. "They'll be on top of
you in a minute if you don't look out."

"Right over the hill, did you say?" said the Lieutenant, forgetting for
the moment the horse. "Attention, there, boys. Look out for the rebels.
Advance carbines\x97Forward\x97trot! I'll come back directly and take another
look at that horse."

The squad trotted up the hill in the direction the Deacon had pointed,
and as he drove off as fast as he could he heard the spatter of
exchanging shots.

Late in the evening, as he drove off the pontoon into Chattanooga and
turned to the right toward his corn-crib he muttered over to himself:

"They say that when a man starts down the path of sin and crime the road
seems greased for his swift progress. The other day I begun with petty
larceny and chicken stealin'. To-day it's bin highway robbery,
premeditated murder, horse stealin', grand larceny, and tellin' a
deliberate lie. What'll I be doin' this time next week? I must git that
old man's horse and buckboard back to him somehow, and pay him for his
vittles. But how'm I goin' to do it? The army's terribly demoralizin'. I
must git Si back home soon, or I won't be fit to associate with anybody
outside the penitentiary. How kin I ever go to the communion table
agin?"



CHAPTER II. THE DEACON ATTEMPTED RESTITUTION TRIED TO RETURN THE HORSE
TO HIS OWNER.

SI AND SHORTY were on the anxious lookout for the Deacon when he
arrived, and not a little worried lest something might have befallen
him.

Si's weakness made him peevish and fretful, and Shorty was not a great
deal better.

"It's an awful risk to have an old man and a civilian come down here
into camp," Si complained. "And he oughtn't to go about alone. He's
always been used to mingling with the quiet, honest, respectable people.
Up home the people are as honest as the day is long. They're religious
and peaceable, and Pap's never knowed no other kind. He wouldn't harm
nobody for the world, and none o' them'd harm him. He's only a child
among these toughs down here. I wisht one of us was able to be with him
all the time."

"That father o' yours is certainly quite an innocent old party," Shorty
answered, consolingly, "and the things he don't know about army life'd
make more'n a pamphlet. But he has a way of wakin' up to the situation
that is sometimes very surprisin'. I wisht I was able to go about with
him, but I think he's fully able to take care o' himself around in camp.
There's always somebody about who won't see an old man and a citizen
imposed on. But what I'm afraid of is that he's wandered out in the
country, huntin' for somethin' for us to eat, and the guerrillas've got
him."

And he and Si shuddered at the thought of that good old man in the hands
of the merciless scoundrels who infested the mountains and woods beyond
the camps.

"Yes," mourned Si, "Pap's likely to mosey out into the country, jest
like he would on Bean Blossom Crick, and stop at the first house he come
to, and set down with 'em on the porch, and talk about the weather, and
the crops, and the measles in the neighborhood, and the revivals, and
the price o' pork and corn, and whether they'd better hold their wheat
till Spring, and who was comin' up for office, and all the time the
bushwhackers'd be sneakin' up on him, an' him know no more 'bout it than
where the blackbirds was roostin'. He's jest that innocent and
unsuspiciouslike."

"If they've ketched him," said Shorty fiercely, "we'll find out about
it, and when we git able, we'll go out there and kill and burn
everything for five miles around. I'll do it, if I have to spend the
rest o' my life at hard labor on the Dry Tortugas."

They heard the rattle of light wheels on the frozen ground outside, and
the hoof-beats of a quickly-moving horse.

"Buggy or spring-wagon," muttered Si with a farmer boy's instinctive
interpretation of such sounds. "What's it doin' in camp? Strange horse.
In better condition than any around here."

The vehicle stopped in front of the corn-crib at the Deacon's command,
"Whoa!"

"Gracious\x97there's Pap now," ejaculated Si, with whom memory went in a
bound to the many times he had listened for his father's coming and
heard that order.

"Hello, boys," called out the Deacon. "How are you? Shorty, come out
here."

Shorty sprang up with something of his old-time alacrity, and Si made an
effort to rise, but was too weak.

"Throw a piece o' that fat pine on the fire. Shorty," said the Deacon,
"and let's see what I've got."

By the light of the blazing pine, the Deacon pulled off the cedar boughs
and developed his store. The boughs had kept in the heat, so that the
food was not yet quite cold, though it had a resinous flavor, from its
covering. The Deacon broke one of the cornpones in two and gave half of
it to Shorty, with as much as he thought he should have of the meat and
vegetables. Then he fed Si, who relished the new diet almost as much as
he had relished the chicken broth. The Deacon made a hearty supper
himself, and then stored away the rest in his "cellar" under the crib,
rolling up some more large stones as an additional precaution.

"Well, you beat me," said Shorty admiringly, as he studied over the
Deacon's booty. "I used to think I was as slick a forager as there was
in the army, but I simply ain't in the same class with a man that kin go
out in this Sahara Desert o' starvation and bring in a four-year-old
horse and a wagon-load o' cooked vittles. I'd never even see the
distance pole runnin' with him. Gen. Rosecrans ought to know you. He'd
appoint you Commissary-General o' the army at once. When I get a little
stronger I want you to take me out and learn me the ABC's o' foragin'.
To think that me and Si wuz grievin' about your being ketched by the
guerrillas. What fools we wuz. It wuz lucky for the guerrillas that you
didn't run acrost 'em, for you'd a ketched 'em, instid o' 'em you."

"That's what I come purty nigh doin'," chuckled the Deacon. "But what in
the world 'm I goin' to do with that hoss and buckboard? I must hunt
around and find that poor beast some corn for tonight. He's bin driven
purty sharp, and he needs his supper jest as bad as I did mine, and I
won't feel right unless he has it. Then I must try to git him back to
his owner termorrer."

"If he's here to-morrer," said Shorty, looking at the animal carefully,
"it'll be a miracle. That's too good a hoss to be kept in this camp by
anybody lower'n a Brigadier-General. The boys'll steal him, the Captains
take him, the Colonels seize him, and the Brigadier-Generals appropriate
him for the Government's service. They'll call it by different names,
but the horse goes all the same. I don't see how you're goin' to keep
him till mornin'. You can't put him in your cellar. If they don't steal
him, it's because it's too dark to see him. I'm sorry to say there's an
awful lot o' thieves in the Army o' the Cumberland."

And Shorty looked very grieved over the deplorable lack of regard in the
army for the rights of property. He seemed to mourn this way for several
minutes, and then broke out with:

"Say, Mr. Klegg, I've an idee. That Quartermaster o' the Maumee Muskrats
is a sport from way back. He'd give his vary eyes for a good hoss\x97one
that kin beat everybody else's. The way the horses are run down now this
one kin carry a heavy handicap, and beat any one in camp. I'll bet I kin
take this hoss over to him and git $150 in greenbacks for him, for he
kin win a bushel o' money with him the very first day."

"Shorty," said the Deacon, in a tone that made that worthy start,
"necessity and the stress o' circumstances may force me to do many
things which are agin my conscience, and for which I shall repent in
sackcloth and ashes, if needs be, but I hain't yit bin reduced to
sellin' stolen property. The Lord save me from that. That hoss and
wagon's got to go back to the owner, if I risk my life in takin' 'em."

Shorty wisely kept his reply to himself, but he thought how absurd it
was to have men about the army who were too old and set in their ideas
to learn army ways. He muttered to himself:

"If he succeeds in gittin' that hoss outen camp agin, I'll expect to see
the back o' my neck, or something else quite as wonderful."

The Deacon finally succeeded in getting a couple of ears of corn and a
handful of fodder for the horse's supper, and it was decided that Shorty
should watch him the first part of the night, and the Deacon from thence
till morning.

As the Deacon pondered over the matter in the early morning hours, he
saw that his only chance of getting the horse back was to start with him
before daylight revealed him to the men in camp.

Well, I'll Be Dumbed, Muttered the Deacon. 35

"I'll drive him well outside our lines, and as near to the house as I
think it prudent to go, and then turn him loose," he said to himself.
"If he's got the sense o' the horses up North he'll go straight home,
and then my conscience will be clear. If he don't, I'll have done all I
could. The Lord don't ask unreasonable things of us, even in atonement."

So he cooked as good a breakfast for the boys as he could prepare from
his materials, woke up Shorty and put him in charge, and an hour before
daybreak turned the horse's head toward the pontoon bridge, and started
him on a lively trot.

He had only fairly started when a stern voice called out to him from a
large tent:

"Here, you, stop that trotting. What do you mean? Don't you know that
it's strictly against orders to trot horses in their present condition?"

"Excuse me. Captain," said the Deacon. "I"

"Blank your Captain," roared the voice; "I'm no Captain."

"Major," said the Deacon deprecatingly.

"To thunder with your Majors, you ignorant fool. You"

"I beg your pardon, Colonel. I was"

"What's the matter with you, you ignoramus?" roared the voice, more
indignantly than ever. "Don't you know Brigade Headquarters when you see
them? Don't you know your own officers when you hear their voices?"

"Rayly, General," said the Deacon, much disturbed, "I didn't mean to
insult you. I'm only a citizen, and a stranger in the camp, and\x97"

"A citizen and a stranger," echoed the voice. "What are you doing in
here, anyway? Orderly, bring that man in here till I see him."

The Orderly started to obey, when a regiment which had been ordered to
report at Headquarters came up at quick step, halted, and ordered arms
with much clatter. The frightened horse bounded off down the road, with
the Deacon sawing on the lines and trying to stop him.

He only slowed down when he came up near a corral of other horses, to
which he turned for companionship and sympathy.

"Frosty mornin' makes that hoss purty frisky," said the Deacon, as he
readjusted his hat, and got himself in shape after his jolting. "Lucky,
though. I didn't like that old General's voice. I'm afraid he had it in
for me, and would 've made me trouble for lowerin' his dignity by
callin' him Captain. Big officers are awfully tetchy."

"Here, who are you? And what are you doin' out there?" came the stem
inquiry from the dark depths of one of the sheds.

"Excuse me. General," answered the Deacon hastily, "I"

"General? Who are you callin' General, you fool? Don't try to be funny
with me. You know I'm no General."

"I meant Colonel," the Deacon started to explain.

"The blazes you did. You expect Colonels to run hoss-corrals, and manage
mule boarding-houses, do you? stop your blimmed nonsense and answer my
questions."

"Major, I was tryin' to say"

"I'll Major you when I git my boots on and git out there. Don't think to
shut my eye up callin' me big titles."

"But, Captain."

"I'm no Captain, neither. I'm plain Jim Crimmins, Quartermaster-
Sergeant, in charge o' this corral, that you're stealin' around. I'm
comin' out there to break every bone in your body. You infernal sneaks
've pestered the life out o' me stealin' my corn and my mules, even.
I've bin watchin' you piroutin' around in the dark for a long time. I'm
goin' to stop this business if I've got to kill every thievin' varmint
in the Army o' the Cumberland. Don't you dare move till I come out, or
I'll put a bullet through you. Do you hear?"

"I don't believe I've got any more time to waste on that bellerin' bull-
calf," said the Deacon to himself. He gathered up the lines, turned the
horse's head toward the road, and gave him a lick with a switch, and he
dashed off, followed by a couple of shots from Mr. Crimmins, to give
color and confirmation to the story that worthy related later in the day
of a particularly audacious attempt on the part of sneak thieves to get
away with his mules and corn, and which was frustrated by his vigilance
and daring.

As the horse slowed down to a walk again a Sergeant of the Guard at the
head of a squad stepped out and took him by the reins.

"Here, who are you, and where are you going so early in the morning?" he
inquired.

"My name's Josiah Klegg, sir," said the Deacon, prudently ignoring
titles. "I'm from Injianny, and am down here 'tendin' to my son, who
belongs to Co. Q, 200th Injianny Volunteers, and who was shot at
Chickamaugy. I borryed this hoss and wagon from a man out in the country
to bring in some vittles for him and his pardner, and some boughs for
'em to sleep on, and I'm takin' 'em back to him."

"Well, that story may be true, and it mayn't. Probably it ain't. Men
don't get up before daybreak to take back borrowed horses. You're up to
some devilment; probably taking information or contraband out to the
rebels. I haven't time now to investigate. I'll put you under guard
until I have. As for the horse, we've got use for him. McCook's Cavalry
needs about a thousand such as he. We're out lookin' for horses now.
Unhitch him, boys."

The Deacon started to make an earnest protest, but at that moment the
rebels on Lookout Mountain made their usual daylight salute to the camp.
The size of the squad had attracted their attention, and a shell
shrieked over and struck quite near. This was too much for the nervous
horse. He made a convulsive leap, which scattered the guards around him
and almost threw the Deacon out of the seat. When the latter recovered
himself, and got the horse under control again the guards were far away,
and he was at the approach to the pontoon bridge.

"I'll be plagued," mused the Deacon, as the horse moved over the bridge
at a slow walk, and gave him time to think, "the army's a terrible
place. I had no sort o' trouble when I was doin' something that mebbe I
oughtn't to have done, but the minute I start out to do a right thing I
meet no end o' difficulties. But these are the obstacles that Satan
always puts in the way of the righteous. I'm goin' to git this boss
'back to its owner, or know the reason why. Git up, there."

He soon came to a piece of the road which was in full view of the rebels
on Lookout Mountain. They had been preparing the day before to stop all
travel by that route, and the Deacon's was the first vehicle that had
appeared since they had got their guns planted. They waited until he was
fairly out into the open, and sent a shell which struck a panel of the
fence off to the left, burst with a crash, and sent rails, chunks,
stones and pieces of brush flying through the air. The horse became
frantic, and tore up the hill at such a rate the buckboard and harness
speedily went to pieces, and the Deacon was flung in the ditch, while
the horse galloped wildly over the hill.

The Union artillerymen on Moccasin Point had evidently anticipated just
such an attempt on the part of the rebels. Instantly a score of guns
which had been placed to cover that spot thundered out, and their shells
could be seen striking and tearing up the ground all around where the
shot came from. Other rebel guns came to the assistance of the first
one; the Union batteries within reach started in to help their side, and
in a minute the whole country was shaking with the uproar.

"Well, I'll be dumbed," muttered the Deacon, crawling out of the ditch,
shaking himself together again, cleaning off the mud, and trying to
comprehend what was happening. "Did anybody ever see sich a commotion
kicked up over one four-year-old hoss, and not a particularly good hoss
at that? 't'd take a mighty smart man to git as much as $100 for him up
in Posey County. Nobody but a Methodist Elder could do it. I've sold a
better hoss than that for $80, and got all he was worth."

He stood for a few minutes and looked at the grand display until the
Union batteries, satisfied that they had finally quashed the impudent
rebel, ceased firing, and then he looked around.

"Well, that buckboard's done for. I can't take it back. It's only good
for kindlin' wood now. But I may ketch the hoss and take him back."

He went up on top of the hill, and saw the horse standing under a tree,
apparently pondering over what had happened, and wondering whether he
should run farther or remain where he was.

The horse gave him a glad whinney of recognition, as if congratulating
him on escaping from the crash of matter.

"Yes, you beast," snorted the Deacon; "I'm safe, but no thanks to you.
You done your best to kick my brains out. Twice your condemned heels
jest grazed my eyebrows. All the thanks I git for tryin' to save you
from being starved to death there in Chattanoogy, and git you back home.
But you go back home all the same."

He led the horse to a rock, mounted him, and started up the road. He
reached the point where the road to the house turned off, and was
debating whether he should go farther or turn the horse loose there,
when he saw a company of cavalry coming up the main road from the other
direction\x97that toward Bridgeport. Though they wore blue overcoats, he
had learned enough about army life to not trust this implicitly, so he
prudently rode into the woods to watch them until he could make sure.
The company came up to where the roads parted, and he overheard a man
who rode by the Captain at the head, and who wore a semi-soldier costume
and seemed to be a scout or guide, tell the Captain:

"Their camp's right over there on that ridge (pointing to the crest on
which the Deacon had seen the smoke). They're probably on the lookout
for us, and we'll have to be very careful if we get near enough to jump
them. I thought I saw one of their lookouts about here when we came up.
Yes, there he is in there."

The Deacon had started to ride boldly toward them when he was sure they
were Union troops, and a couple of the men, who in their dealings with
bushwhackers had learned that it is best to shoot first and ask
questions afterward, had promptly fired, and cut twigs uncomfortably
near the Deacon's head. His horse plunged, but he kept him in hand and
called out:

"Hold on! Hello! Don't do that. I'm a friend. I'm from Injianny."

"You're a devil of a way from home, and in a bad neighborhood," said one
of the men who had fired, as he slipped another cartridge into his
Sharpe's.

The Captain interrogated him as to who he was and what he was doing out
there, while the scout fidgeted in his saddle over the time that was
being wasted.

"Captain," said the scout finally, "we must hustle if we're going to
strike those fellers before dark. We can't go down here, but' ll have to
make a long circuit around, so they won't see us."

"That's so," said the Captain, adjusting himself to start.

"Captain," said one of the men, "my horse can't go any farther. He's
been in bad shape, and he fell and broke his knee coming up the hill."

"Well, here, take that citizen's horse. Old man, get off, and let this
man have that horse."

The Deacon started to protest, but the man was in a hurry, and almost
pulled him off, and slapped his own saddle on in a flash.

"But what am I do to?" asked the Deacon bewildered.

"Do? Do as you please," laughed the Captain. "You are as well off here
as anywhere. When a man's away from home one place's the same's another
to him. Here, I'll tell you what you can do. See that cow back there?
The boys have been trailing her along, in hopes to get her into
Chattanooga and make beef of her. We've got to leave her now, for we are
going on the jump. We'll make you a present of her and this broken-down
horse. That'll start you in business. A horse and a cow's a big start
for any man. Good-by. Attention, company! Forward, head of column
right\x97March!"

"Well, I've done all I could," said the Deacon, going back and picking
up the rope which was tied to the cow's horns. "The Lord knows I've
tried hard enough to git that hoss back. The cow looks as if she's a
good milker. A little milk'll do the boys good. Then, they kin have
fresh beef. Come along, Bos."

Late at night he tied the cow to the corn-crib and went to his weary
bed.



CHAPTER III. A COW IN CAMP THE DEACON HAS SOME EXPERIENCES WITH THE
QUADRUPED.

IT DID not seem that so many dangers beset the possession of a cow as of
a horse, yet the Deacon prudently rose while it was yet dark to look
after the animal.

He was none too soon, for there were getting to be thousands of very
hungry men in Chattanooga who remembered the axiom about the early bird
catching the worm, and thought the best time for "snatching" something
was in the dark just before reveille. If they could find nothing better,
and too often they did not, they would rob the mules of their scanty
rations of corn, and soon a mule's feed-box had to be as carefully
guarded as the commissary tent of the Headquarters mess.

These morning prowlers were as cunning as rats in finding their prey,
and the only security that a man had of keeping his rations till morning
was to eat them up before he went to bed. Their sharp eyes had not
failed to notice the signs of unusual plenty about the Deacon's corn-
crib, and they gave it earnest attention.

The Deacon had slipped out very quietly, and taken a little turn around
the end of the crib, to see that his other provisions had not been
disturbed, before he approached the cow. As he did so he saw a figure
squatted beside her, and heard a low voice say:

"So, Bos! H'ist, Lady! H'ist up, you measly heifer!"

"Well, I declare to goodness," gasped the Deacon. "How could they've
found her out so soon?"

He walked quietly up to the milker, and remarked:

"Purty early in the mornin' to do your milkin'. Didn't used to git up so
early when you was at home, did you?"

"Sh\x97sh\x97sh!" whispered the other. "Don't speak so loud. You'll wake up
that old galoot inside. Keep quiet till I fill my cup, and then I'll let
you have a chance. There'll be plenty for you."

"Purty good milker, is she?" inquired the Deacon with interest.

"Naw!" whispered the other. "She's got her bag full, but she won't give
down worth a cent."

"Better let me try my hand," said the Deacon. "You've bin away from the
farm for so long you've probably lost the knack. I'm a famous milker."

"You'll play fair?" said the milker doubtfully.

"Yes; just hold her till I go inside and git my bucket, and I'll milk
your cup clean full," answered the Deacon, starting inside the corn-
crib.

"Well, you're a cool one," gasped the milker, realizing the situation.
"But I'll hold you to your bargain, and I'll play fair with you."

The Deacon came back with his bucket, and after filling the man's cup as
full as it would hold, handed it to him, and then began drawing the rest
into his own bucket.

Careful milker that he was, he did not stop until he had stripped the
last drop, and the cow, knowing at once that a master hand was at her
udder, willingly yielded all her store.

"There," said the Deacon, "if anybody gits any more out o' her till
evenin' he's welcome to it."

Two or three other men had come up in the meanwhile with their cups, and
they started, without so much as asking, to dip their cups in.

"Hold on!" commanded the first-comer sternly. "Stop that! This old man's
a friend o' mine, and I won't see him imposed on. Go somewhere else and
git your milk."

A wordy war ensued, but the first-comer was stalwart and determined. The
row waked up Shorty, who appeared with an ax.

"All right," said one of the men, looking at the ax; "keep your durned
old milk, if you're so stingy toward hungry soldiers. It'll give you
milk-sick, anyway. There's lots o' milk-sick 'round here. All the cows
have it. That cow has it bad. I kin tell by her looks. We had lots o'
milk-sick in our neighborhood, and I got real well-acquainted with it. I
kin tell a milk-sick cow as fur as I kin see her, and if that cow hasn't
it, no one ever had it."

He made a furtive attempt to kick the bucket over, which was frustrated
by the Deacon's watchfulness.

"Better do something with that cow right off," advised the first-comer,
as he walked off. "You can't keep her in camp all day. Somebody'll git
her away from you if they have to take her by main force."

"Are you willin' to risk the milk-sick?" asked the Deacon, handing
Shorty a cupful of the milk, together with a piece of cornpone.

"Yum\x97yum, I should say so," mumbled that longlegged gentleman. "I'll
make the milk sicker'in it kin me, you bet. Jest bring along all the
milk-sick you've got on hand, and I'll keep it from hurtin' anybody
else. That's the kind of a philanthropist I am."

"I see you've got a cow here," said a large man wearing a dingy blue
coat with a Captain's faded shoulder-straps. "I'm a Commissary, and it's
my duty to take her."

He walked over and in a businesslike way began unfastening the rope. The
Deacon shuddered, for he had too much respect for shoulder-straps to
think of resisting. Shorty looked up from his breakfast, scanned the
newcomer, and said:

"Look here. Bill Wiggins, you go back and take off that Captain's coat
as quick as you kin, or I'll have you arrested for playin' officer. None
o' you Maumee Muskrats kin play that little game on the 200th Injianny.
We know you too well. And let me advise you, Mr. Wiggins, the next time
you go out masqueradin' to make up clean through. That private's cap and
pantaloons burned around the back, and them Government cow-hides give
you dead away, if your mug didn't. If they wuz givin' commissions away
you wouldn't be a brevet Corporal. Skip out, now, for here comes the
Provost-Guard, and you'd better not let him catch you wearin' an
officer's coat unless you want to put in some extra time on the
breastworks."

Mr. Wiggins made off at once, but he had scarcely gotten out of sight
when a mounted officer, attracted by the strange sight of a cow in camp,
rode up and inquired whence she came and to whom she belonged.

The Deacon was inside the crib taking care of Si, and the burden of the
conversation fell upon Shorty.

"Me any my pardner sent out into the country and bought that cow," he
said, "with three $10 gold pieces we've bin savin' up ever since we've
bin in the service. We wouldn't give 'em for anything else in the world.
But we wuz jest starved for a drink o' fresh milk. Never felt so hungry
for anything else in our lives. Felt that if we could jest git a fillin'
o' fresh milk it'd make us well agin."

"Paid $30 in gold for her," said the officer, examining the cow
critically. "Pretty high price for that kind of a cow."

"Well, I don't know about that," answered Shorty argumentatively, and
scenting a possible purchaser. "Good fresh cows are mighty scarce
anywhere at this time o' year, and particularly in this region. Next
Spring they'll be much cheaper. But not this, one. That's no ordinary
cow. If you'll look carefully at her you'll see that she's a
thoroughbred. I'm a boss judge o' stock myself, and I know. Look at her
horns, her bag, and her lines. She's full three-quarters Jersey."

"What's the other quarter," asked the officer, much amused.

"Jest\x97jest\x97jest\x97cow," answered Shorty, momentarily stumped for once in
his volubility. And then he went on more garrulously than ever, to make
amends. "She's as gentle as a lamb, will live on two ears o' corn and a
kind word a day, and give two gallons o' milk, nearly all cream. Me and
my pardner wouldn't take $10.0 in gold for that cow. We're goin' to send
her up home as soon as the lines are open, to start our stock-farm
with."

"Where did you say you got her?" said the officer, getting off his horse
and going up closer to examine the animal.

"O, we bought her from a man named Wilson over in the Sequatchie Valley.
You must've heard of him. We've knowed him a long time\x97before he moved
down here from Injianny. Runs a fine stockfarm. Cried like a baby when
he parted with his cow. Wouldn't have done it, but he had to have the
money to buy provisions for his family."

"Let me see," said the officer, looking at him. "Seems to me I ought to
know you. Where do you belong?"

"Co. Q, 200th Injianny Volunteers."

"I thought so. I do know you. You are Shorty. I don't want to say
anything against your honesty or your veracity, but if Gen, Rosecrans
was to order me to get him the smartest forager and smoothest liar in
the Army of the Cumberland, I think I should order you to report at
Headquarters."

"You do me proud," said Shorty with a grin, but an inward feeling that
trouble was impending.

"Now, tell me the truth. Where did you get that cow?"

"I have bin tellin' you the truth," protested Shorty with an injured
air. "Why should I tell you a lie about a little thing like a cow?"

"You are not within a mile of the truth. I know it. Look here: I believe
that is Gen. Rosecrans's own cow. She's gone, and I got an order to look
around for her. I've never seen her, but from the description given me I
believe that's she. Who brought her here?"

Purty Good Milker, is She? Inquired the Deacon 51

"Great Jehosephat, he's after the Deacon," thought Shorty with a
shudder. "I mustn't let him git him." Then he spoke out boldly:

"I brung her here."

"Shorty," said the officer with a smile, "I admire your talents for
prevarication more than I can express. As a good, off-hand, free-going,
single-gaited liar you have few equals and no superiors. Your lies
usually have so much probability in them that they seem better than the
truth\x97for your purposes. But this has no probability whatever in it. I
doubt if you are able to walk to Headquarters. If you were well and
strong, I should believe you quite capable not only of stealing the cow
from Army Headquarters, but President Lincoln's cow from his back-door
of the White House. But you are good now because you haven't strength
enough to be up to any devilment. Now, tell me, who brought that cow
here?"

"I brung her here myself, I tell you. I felt unusually peart last night.
Felt that I had to snatch something jest to keep my hand in, like.
Couldn't find nothin' else on four legs worth takin', and couldn't take
nothin' that couldn't walk. So I took her. You kin send me to the guard-
house if you want to. I expect I deserve it."

And Shorty tried to look contrite and penitent.

"Yes; you're in nice shape to send to the guardhouse. I'd sent you there
quick enough if you were well, for telling me such a preposterous lie.
You've usually paid more respect to my intelligence by telling me
stories that I could believe if I wanted to, as I usually wanted do; but
this is too much."

As the conversation began the Deacon had passed out with a bucket to go
to the creek for water for the cow. He now came back, set the bucket
down in front of the cow, and began, from force of long habit in caring
for his stock, to pick off some burs, and otherwise groom her.

"Say, my friend," said the officer, "who brought that cow in?"

Shorty had been frantically trying to catch the Deacon's eye, and was
making all manner of winks and warning gestures without avail, for the
Deacon answered frankly:

"I brung her in."

"You're just the man I'm looking for," returned the officer. Then
turning to a Sergeant who had just come up at the end of a squad, he
said:

"Here, Sergeant, take charge of this citizen and this cow, and bring
them both up to Army Headquarters. Don't let that citizen get away from
you. He's a slick one."

As they moved off. Shorty bolted into the crib and shouted:

"Great Jehosephat, Si, that dad of your'n 's a goner! He's got nerve
that looms up like Lookout Mountain! He's a genius! He's got git-up and
git to spare! What do you think he done last night? Walked up to Gen.
Rosecrans's Headquarters, and stole the General's cow right from under
the noses o' the Headquarters Guards, and brung her down here and milked
her. Did you ever hear o' sich snap? I only wisht that me and you was
half the man that he is, old as he is. The only trouble is that he isn't
as good a hider as he is on the take. They've dropped on to him, and
they're now takin' him up to Headquarters. But he'll find some way to
git off. There's no end to that man. And to think that we've bin playin'
him right along for a hayseed."

And Shorty groaned in derision of his own acumen.

"Pop stole Gen. Rosecrans's cow from Headquarters? They've arrested him
and are taking him up there?" ejaculated Si in amazement. "I don't
believe a word of it."

"Well, the cow was here. He brung her here last night, and owned up to
it. He milked her, and you drunk some of the milk. The Provost-Guard's
now walkin' the cow and him up to Headquarters. These are early mornin'
facts. You kin believe what you dumbed please."

"Pap arrested and taken to Army Headquarters," groaned Si, in deepest
anxiety. "What in the world will they do with him?"

"O, don't worry," said Shorty cheerfully.

"Your dad ain't as green as you are, if he has lived all his life on the
Wabash. He's as fly as you make 'em. He's fixin' up some story as he
goes along that'll git him out of the scrape slick as a whistle. Trust
him."

"Shorty," said Si severely, "my father don't fix up stories. Understand
that. He's got some explanation for this. Depend upon it."

"They call it explanation when it gits a feller out, and blamed lie when
it don't," muttered Shorty to himself, as he went out again, to follow
the squad as far as he could with his eyes. "Anyway, I'll bet on the
Deacon."

The squad arrived before Headquarters, and the officer dismounted and
went in. Early as it was he found the indefatigable Rosecrans at work
with his staff and clerks.

"General, I've found your cow, and got the man who took her," said the
officer.

"Good," said the General joyfully. "Now we'll have some fresh milk
again. I can give up anything cheerfully, rather than fresh milk. Say
you've got the thief, too?" continued the General, relapsing into one of
his testy moods. "Put the rascal at the hardest labor you can find. I'll
give him a lesson that stealing from Headquarters don't pay. The rascals
in my army seem to think that I and everything I have belongs to them as
much as it does to me. But I'll draw the line at my cow and my horses.
They can steal everything else but them. Hold on a minute. I'll go out
and see if it's really my cow."

"Yes, that is she; glad to see you back, Missy," said the General,
patting the cow on the back. "Take her back and give her a good feed, if
you can find it, for probably she's pretty hungry."

Then turning to the Deacon:

"You old rascal, you'll steal the General's cow, will you? Fond of
thorobred stock, are you? And a citizen, too. Well, I'll see whether a
month of hard work on the fortifications won't cure you of your fancy
for blooded cattle."

"Look here, Gen. Rosecrans," said the Deacon firmly, "I didn't steal
your cow, and I won't allow you nor no other man to say so. I'm an
honest man, or at least I've always passed for one at home. I was out
over the river yesterday, tryin' to git a hoss back to his owner, and a
Captain of a cavalry company come along and took my hoss away, and give
me this cow in exchange. He said his men'd got the cow down the road
apiece, and that's all I know of her."

"A very likely story," sneered several of the staff.

"Let me see," said the General, who prided himself on remembering names
and faces. "Haven't I met you before? Aren't you from Indiana?"

"Yes, sir; from Posey County."

"And you've got a son in one of the regiments?"

"Yes, sir. Corporal Si Klegg, Co. Q, 200th Injianny Volunteers. Him and
his partner Shorty wuz badly wounded, and I come down here to take care
of 'em. I've bin moseyin' around out in the country tryin' to find
something for 'em to eat, and the other day I\x97borryed a hoss, which I
was tryin' to take back, when this cavalry Captain come along, and tuk
the hoss away from me and give me this cow instid. I hadn't no idee
where he got her, and he didn't give me time to ask, for he started on
the jump after some guerrillas."

"I shouldn't wonder if his story is true, General," said a member of the
staff. "You see, your cow has been gone really two days. Day before
yesterday we sent Blue Jim out into the country with her. She needed it
awfully. We laid the law down to Blue Jim about being very careful with
her and keep her near the road. It seems that he found a good piece of
meadow, and turned her loose in it, but then, nigger like, he forgot all
that we had told him about staying light alongside of her, and wandered
off to gather persimmons, and afterward fell asleep in a fence-corner.
When he woke up the cow was gone, and he was scared nearly to death. He
hunted around for her all day, and came in last night nearly starved to
death, and whimpering and blubbering. We told him that you would order
him shot as soon as you found out. He has been to see the Chaplain
twice, to prepare for death."

"So?" said the General, smiling. "Well, Mr.\x97 Mr.\x97 I did know your name
once\x97"

"Klegg, Josiah Klegg," answered the Deacon promptly.

"Yes; how stupid of me to forget it. Well, Mr. Klegg, I'm very much
obliged to you for finding my cow and bringing her home. You've got a
very fine son\x97splendid soldier. How is he getting along?"

"Tollably well, General, thank you. Look here, General, please let me
take those boys home. If you will, I'll send 'em back to you in a few
weeks good as new. All they need is mother's cookin' and mother's
nursin' to bring 'em right out. And I want to go home, too. The army is
demoralizin' me. I guess I'm gittin' old, and 'm not as strong to resist
sin and the suggestions of sin as I once was. I'm gittin' scared of
myself down here."

"It's pretty hard work getting back now," said the General. "Do you
think you can do it, if I give you leave?"

"O, yes. Jest give the order, and I'll get the boys and myself back
home, sure's you're livin'."

"Very well," said the General; "you shall have the chance." He turned to
one of his staff and said:

"Look into this matter. If the Surgeon thinks they can be moved, have
furloughs and transportation made out for them and the father. Good-by,
Mr. Klegg. Take good care of those boys, and send them back to me as
soon as they are well."



CHAPTER IV. THE DEACON'S PLAN DEALING WITH AN OBSTRUCTION TO THE
HOMEWARD JOURNEY.

THE Surgeon, who had conceived quite a good opinion of the Deacon's
ability, readily certified that the boys could be safely taken home,
since they would have the benefit of his care and attention, and the
necessary papers came down from Headquarters that day. The Deacon had
the good luck to find his old friend, the Herd-Boss, who took a deep
interest in the matter. He offered to have as good a team as he had at
the crib the next morning, with the wagon-bed filled with cedar-boughs,
to make as easy a couch as possible for the rough ride over the
mountains.

With his heart full of hope and joy, the Deacon bustled around to make
every possible preparation for the journey.

"It's a long way back home, I know," he said to himself, "and the road's
rough and difficult as that to the New Jerusalem; but Faith and Hope,
and the blessin' o' God'll accomplish wonders. If I kin only hold the
souls in them boys' bodies till I kin git 'em back to Bean Blossom
Crick, I'll trust Mother Klegg's nursin' to do the rest. If there ever
was a woman who could stand off the Destroyin' Angel by good nursin'
that woman's Mother Klegg, bless her soul."

The next morning he was up betimes, and cooked the boys as good a
breakfast as he could out of the remainder of his store and what he
could get from the hospital, and then gave what was left to whoever
came. The comfortable crib, which had cost the Deacon so much labor, had
been pre-empted by the Surgeon for some of his weakest patients.

The news had reached the 200th Ind. that the boys were going home, and
they came over in a body to say "Good-by."

The sight of them pained the Deacon's good heart. Instead of the
hundreds of well-fed, well-clothed, comfortable-looking young men he had
seen at Murfreesboro a few months before, he now saw a shrunken band of
gaunt, unkempt men, their clothing ragged and patched, many of them
almost shoeless, many of them with pieces of blankets bound around their
feet instead of shoes, many of them with bandages about their still
unhealed wounds, but still keeping their places bravely with their
comrades, and stubbornly refusing to count themselves among the sick and
disabled, though it required all their will-power to do their share of
the duty. But all of them were brimming over with unconquerable
cheerfulness and pluck. They made light of their wounds and
disabilities, jested at one another's ragged clothes, laughed at their
hunger, teased one another about stealing corn from mules, jeered at the
rebel shells from Lookout Mountain, yelled derisively at the rebel
pickets across the creek, and promised them to soon come out and run
Bragg's army off the face of the earth.

All were eager to do something toward the comfort of their departing
comrades. They scanned the arrangement of the boughs in the wagon with
critical eyes, and picked them over and rearranged them, so as to avoid
every chance of uncomfortable knots and lumps. They contributed blankets
from their own scanty supply, to make sure that there would be plenty,
and so many were eager to help carry Si out and put him in the wagon,
that the Orderly-Sergeant of Co. Q had to take charge of the matter and
make a detail. The teamster was given strong admonitions as to careful
driving, and fearful warning as to what would happen to him in case of
an accident.

"Hain't anything to send back home with you, boys, this time, but our
love," said one of them. "That's the only thing that's safe now-a-days
from bein' stole, because no one kin eat or wear it. Tell the folks to
pay no attention to what the paper says. No danger o' bein' run out o'
Chattanoogy. Tell 'em that we're all fat, ragged and sassy, and only
waitin' the word from Gen. Rosecrans to fall on old Bragg like a
thousand o' brick and mash the lights outen him."

"Yes," joined another, "tell 'em we've got plenty to eat, sich as it is,
and good enough, what there is of it. Don't worry about us. We're only
blowin' up our muscle to git a good lick at old Bragg."

"Your muscle," said Shorty, satirically. "You've got about as much
muscle now as a musketo. But you're good stuff all the same, and you're
goin' to everlastingly lick the rebels when the time comes. I only wisht
I was here to help you do it. I don't think I'll go any further than
Nashville. I'll be well enough to come back by that time. I'll see Si
and his father off safely, and then gether up a crowd of other
convalescents, and come back and clean the rebels off your cracker
line."

"Good-by, boys," piped out Si. "I'll be back soon. Don't bring on the
big battle till I do. I want to help. Just skirmish around and push the
rebels back into the woods while I'm gone, and hive 'em up for a good
lickin' by the time I git back."

As the wagon moved off the 200th Ind. gave three cheers, and the
regimental soloist struck up the "Battle Cry of Freedom," in which they
all joined with so much energy as to attract the attention of the rebel
artillerist on Lookout Mountain, who favored them with a shell intended
for their express benefit. It was no better directed than any of its
many predecessors had been, and was greeted with yells of derision, in
which all the camp joined.

Having done all possible for the boys' comfort, the Deacon had lighted
his pipe and taken his seat on a board laid over the front, where he
could oversee the road and the teamster, and take a parting look at the
animated scenery. The wagon pulled into the line of those moving out
toward Bridgeport, and jogged along slowly for some hours until it was
nearing the top of one of the hills that jutted out close to the
Tennessee River, at the base of Lookout Mountain. The Deacon saw, with a
little nervousness, that they were approaching the open space in which
he had had his experience with the horse and buckboard, and he anxiously
scanned the Craven House slope for signs of a rebel cannon. He saw that
his apprehensions were shared by the drivers of the three or four teams
just ahead. They were whipping up, and yelling at their teams to get
past the danger point as quick as possible.

The Deacon Reconnoitered the Situation 62

They had need of anxiety. A scattering volley of shots came from the
bushes and the rocks on the opposite side of the Tennessee River and one
of the leaders in the team just ahead of him dropped dead in his tracks.
The teams in front were whipped up still harder, and succeeded in
getting away. The shots were answered from a line of our own men on this
side of the river, who fired at the smoke they saw rising.

The Deacon's own teamster sprang from his saddle, and prudently got in
the shelter of the wagon until the affair would be over. The teamster
next ahead ran forward, and began cutting the fallen mule loose, but
while he was doing so another shot laid the other mule low. The teamster
fell fiat on the ground, and lay there for a minute. Then he cautiously
arose, and began cutting that mule loose, when a shot struck the near-
swing mule in the head, and he dropped. The Deacon kept that solid old
head of his throughout the commotion, and surveyed the scene with cool
observance.

"There's one feller somewhere over there doin' all that devilment," he
said to Shorty, who was pushing his head eagerly out of the front of the
wagon to find out what was going on. "He's a sharpshooter from way back.
You kin see he's droppin' them mules jest about as fast as he kin load
his gun. Them other fellers over there are jest putterin' away, makin' a
noise. You kin see their shots strikin' down the hill there, and
everywhere, where they ain't doin' nothin'. But that feller's out for
business. I've bin tryin' to locate him. He's somewhere closter than any
o' the others. Their bullets don't quite reach, while his goes home
every time. See there."

The off-swing mule dropped this time. "Land's sakes," ejaculated the
Deacon, "he's costin' Uncle Sam $150 every time his gun cracks. It's
jest sinful to be destroyin' property that way. Shorty, kin you reach me
that gun o' Si's out o' the wagon? I believe I'll slip down toward the
bank and see if I can't find that feller. I've bin watchin' the willers
along the aidge o' the water, and I believe he's in there."

"Don't go, Pap," pleaded Si. "Some of the boys on the skirmish-line 'll
find him soon, and settle him. Don't expose yourself. Stay behind the
wagon."

"Yes, stay back under cover, Deacon," joined in Shorty. "Let the boys
down there 'tend to him. They're gittin' $16 a month for it, and don't
want nobody else to interfere in their job." Just then the near wheel
mule dropped. "Gi' me that gun at onct," said the Deacon sternly. Shorty
handed him the Springfield and its cartridge-box without another word.
The Deacon looked over the rifle, "hefted" it, and tried it at his
shoulder to get its poise, critically examined its sights by aiming at
various objects, and then wiped out its barrel, as he would that of his
trusty hunting-rifle at home. All of his old deer-hunting instincts
revived. He took out several cartridges, turned them over in his hand,
and carefully selected one, tore open the paper, poured the powder in,
removed the paper from the ball, and carefully rammed it home, struck
the butt of the gun on the ground to make sure of its priming, and put
on the cap.

"Hold her about a foot under. Pap, at 400 yards," said Si, who had
rolled over to the side of the wagon, and was watching him from under
the cover, which was raised up a little. "Put your sights up to the 400
mark, and then draw the top o' the bead down fine into that notch, and
she'll put it right where you hold her."

By this time the sharpshooter had finished up the mules on the team
ahead, and begun on that of the Deacon. The firing was furious all along
both sides of the river, and the teamsters in the rear were showing
signs of stampeding. The Wagonmaster was storming up and down to hold
them in place, and the officers in command of the line along the river
bank were raging at their men for not suppressing the fire from over the
stream.

"Old man, you'd better not go down there," said a Captain as the Deacon
came walking down, looking very grim and determined. "It's getting
hotter down there every minute. The rebels seem determined to stick to
their work, and I've had three men wounded already."

"Look out for your own men, my son," answered the Deacon, in whom the
fire of battle was burning. "I'll look out for myself. If I'm hit the
Gover'ment won't lose nothin'. I'm only a citizen."

He had kept his eye on the clump of willows, and was sure that his man
was in there, though the smoke hung around so confusingly that he could
not always make out where a fresh shot came from. He got down to where
an occasional bullet struck in his neighborhood, but that did not
disturb him. He began to feel that thrill of man-hunting which when it
seizes a man is an overpowering passion.

"I'm goin' to stop him killin' mules," he said to himself. "I rayly hope
I won't kill him, but that's a secondary matter. Providence'll settle
that. It's my duty to stop him. That's clear. If his time's come
Providence'll put the bullet where it'll kill him. If it ain't, it
won't. That's all. Providence indicates my duty to me. The
responsibility for the rest is with Providence, who doeth all things
well."

He reached the firing-line, strung along the ragged bluffs, and hiding
behind trees, stumps and stones.

"Lay down, there, old man; grab a root; keep under cover, or you'll git
hit," some of them called out to him, noticing him as they turned to
load. "The air is so full o' bullets you kin ketch your hat full if you
only hold it up."

"All right, boys, I'll lay low. I've come down here to help you,"
answered the Deacon.

"Bully for you; we need it."

The Deacon took his position behind a big black walnut, while he
reconnoitered the situation, and got his bearings on the clump of
willows. He felt surer than ever of his man, for he actually saw a puff
of smoke come from it, and saw that right behind the puff stood a willow
that had grown to the proportions of a small tree, and had its bark
rubbed off by the chafing of driftwood against it.

"He's right behind that peeled wilier," the Deacon said, "and takes a
rest agin it. Three inches to the left o' that, and three foot from the
ground'll take him square in the breast, as he is probably kneeling
down."

Before him he noticed a deep gully cut in the bank, by which he could
get down to the water's edge where there was a clump of paw-paws
projecting out toward the willows. If he went down there it would make
his shot surer, but there was much danger that he would be noticed and
fired at on his way.

"I'm goin' down there," he said, after a moment's deliberation.
"Providence has sent me on this job, and intends I shall do it right,
which I kin by goin' down there. Providence'll take care o' me while I'm
goin'. Same time, Providence expects me to show gumption, by not
exposin' myself any more'n possible."

Therefore he cut a young, thick-branched cedar and held it in front of
him as he crouched and made his way to the gully and down it.

He had nearly reached the cover of the paw-paws, and was beginning to
congratulate himself that his cedar screen and the turmoil on the bank
above had enabled him to escape attention, when a bullet struck a stone
to his left, and threw it against him with such force as to almost knock
all the breath out of his body. He fell to the ground, but retained
coolness enough to understand that this was to his advantage, and he
crawled slowly forward until he was safely behind the bushes.

"That come from that hound in the willers," said he to himself. "He's a
sharp one. He got on to me somehow, and now it's me and him fur it.
Anyhow, he didn't kill a mule worth $150 with that bullet. But it'll
take as much as six bits' worth o' porous plaster to take the swellin'
out o' my side where that rock welted me."

He hitched forward cautiously a little farther, to where he could peer
through the bushes, being exceedingly wary not to repeat his opponent's
mistake, and set their tops in motion. A rock protruding through the
ground in front of him made an opening through which he could see, and
also afforded a rest for his musket. He looked sharply, and at length
was rewarded by seeing the gun-barrel come out by the side of the barked
willow, rested on a bare limb, and apparently aimed at the hill beyond.
He took a long breath to steady his nerves, stretched out his legs to
make himself more at ease, pushed his musket forward until he got
exactly the right poise, aimed about nine inches below the level of his
opponent's gun-barrel, and a little to the left, drew his bead down to a
hair's nicety in the hind sight, and pulled the trigger just as the
rebel sharpshooter did the same. Both muskets seemed to flash at the
same moment. The rebel sprang up through the willows and fell forward on
his face.

The Deacon picked up his gun and walked back up the bank. The Union
skirmishers had seen the man fall and raised a yell, which they changed
to cheers as they saw the Deacon coming up the bank.

The Captain in command came up and said:

"Sir, I congratulate you. That was splendidly done. I was just getting
on to that fellow when you went down. I watched you through my glass,
and saw you fetch him. You are entitled to all our thanks."

"No thanks to me, sir. I only done the dooty Providence marked out for
me. I hope the man ain't killed. If he is, it's because Providence had
fixed the number of his days. I only wanted to stop his killin' mules,
and destroyin' Gover'ment property, and let us go on our journey in
peace."

"Well, I wish you'd stay here and help us with some more of those
fellows over there. I'm sure their time has come, but my men don't seem
to be quite as good in carrying out the decrees of Providence as you
are."

"Thankee, sir," said the Deacon. "But I must go back and 'tend to my
boys. We've got a long ways to go yet to-day."

He went back to the road and reported to the Wagonmaster:

"Now you kin clear away them dead mules and go ahead. You won't scarcely
be bothered any more for awhile at least."



CHAPTER V. TROUBLE ENCOUNTERED THE BOYS MEET AN OLD FRIEND AND ARE TAKEN
HOME IN A HURRY.

IT WAS not until late the next afternoon that the wagon-train finally
reached Bridgeport, and the weak, wornout mules had at last a respite
from straining through the mud, under the incessant nagging of the
teamsters' whips and their volleyed blasphemy.

The Deacon's merciful heart had been moved by the sufferings of the poor
beasts. He had done all that he could on the journey to lighten the
labor of those attached to his own wagon. He had restrained as much as
possible the St. Vitus Dance of the teamster's keen whip, uselessly
remonstrated with him against his profanity, carried a rail to help pry
the wheels out of the mudholes, and got behind and pushed going up the
steep hills. At the journey's end when the exhausted brutes stood
motionless, with their ears drooping and their eyes looking unutterable
disgust at everything connected with the army and war, the Deacon helped
the teamster take their harness off, and carry them as much corn and hay
as the Forage-Master could be pursuaded to dole out to them.

The Deacon's next solicitude was to get the boys aboard a train that
would start out soon. This was a sore perplexity. All was rush and
bustle about the railroad yard. Trains were coming, being switched
hither and yon, unloaded, and reloaded, and going, in a way that was
simply bewildering to the plain farmer. Men in uniform and men in plain
clothes were giving orders, and these were obeyed, and everybody seemed
too busy to answer questions or give information.

"Naw; git out. Don't bother me with no questions, I tell you,"
impatiently said a man in citizen's clothes, who with arms outspread was
signalling the switching engines. "'Tain't my business to give
information to people. Got all I kin do to furnish brains for them bull-
headed engineers. Go to that Quartermaster you see over there in
uniform. The Government pays him for knowin' things. It don't me."

"I don't know anything about the different cars, my friend," said the
Quartermaster haughtily. "That's the business of the railroad people. I
simply order them to make up the trains for me, and they do the rest.
There's a Yard-Master over there. Go ask him."

"Blazes and brimstone," exploded the Yard-Master; "how in the devil's
name do you suppose I can tell anything about the trains going out? I'm
just pestered to death by such fool questions, while the life's being
worried out of me by these snoozers with sardine-labels on their
shoulders, who strut around and give orders, and don't know enough about
railroading to tell a baggage-check from a danger-signal. If they'd only
let me alone I'd have all these trains running in and out like shuttles
in a loom. But as soon's I get one arranged down comes a shoulderstrap
and orders something different. Go off and ask somebody that wears brass
buttons and a basswood head. Don't bother me. Get out of the way of that
engine there."

In despair, the Deacon turned to a man who wore a Major's shoulder-
straps.

"No," he answered; "I'm sorry to say that I cannot give you any
information. I'm only in command of the guards here. I haven't anything
to do with the trains. The Quartermasters run them, and they run them as
they run everything they have anything to do with\x97like the old man and
woman run their fulling mill on the Kankakee\x97that is, like\x97

"Dumb this mixin' o' military and civilian," said the irritated Deacon,
"It's worse'n mixin' religion and politics, and preachin' and tavern-
keepin'. Down there in camp everything was straight and systematic.
Every feller what don't have nothin' in his shoulder-straps bosses all
the fellers what hain't no shoulder-straps at all. The feller what has
one bar in his shoulder-straps bosses all the fellers what hain't nothin
in theirs, and the feller what has two bars bosses the fellers with but
one; the feller with leaves gives orders to the fellers with bars; the
feller with an eagle lays clear over him, and the man with a star jest
makes everybody jump when he talks. Out at the depot on Bean Blossom
Crick Sol Pringle has the say about everything. He knows when the trains
come and when they go, and what goes into 'em. This seems to be a
betwixt and between place, neither pork nor bacon, I don't like it at
all, I always want things straight\x97either one thing or t'other\x97reg'ler
close communion, total-immersion Babtist, or free-for-all, shoutin'
Methodist."

"I think I can help you, 'Squire," said a big, goodnatured-looking
civilian railroad man, who had become interested in the Deacon's
troubles. "I've bin around with the Assistant Yard-Boss pickin' out a
lot o' empties to hustle back to Nashville for grub. That's one o' them
over there, on the furthest switch\x97X634. See? It's got a chalk mark on
it. I'll help you carry your boys into it, and fix 'em comfortable, and
you'll go back with it all right."

The Deacon turned gladly to him. The man summoned some of his friends,
who speedily transferred Si and Shorty, with their belongings, cedar
boughs and all, to the car, and made them as comfortable as possible,
and added some little offerings of their own to contribute to the ease
of the journey. They bestired themselves to find something to eat that
the boys would relish, and brought out from somewhere a can of peaches
and one of tomatoes, which proved very acceptable. The Deacon was
overwhelmed with gratitude.

"I want every one of you to come up to my house, whenever you git a
chance," he said, "and make a long visit. You shall have the very best
that there is on my farm, and if you don't live well it won't be Maria
Klegg's fault. She'll jest lay herself out to be good to men who's bin
good to her son, and when she lays herself out to git up a dinner the
Burnett House in Cincinnati takes a back seat."

Feeling entirely at ease, he climbed into the car, with a copy of the
Cincinnati Gazette, which he had bought of a newsboy, lighted his pipe,
put on his spectacles, and settled down to a labored, but thorough
perusal of the paper, beginning at the head-lines on the upper left-hand
corner, and taking in every word, advertisements and all, as
systematically as he would weed a garden-bed or milk a cow. The Deacon
never did anything slip-shod, especially when he had to pay 10 cents for
a copy of the Cincinnati Gazette. He was going to get his full money's
worth, and if it was not in the news and editorials, he would take it
out of the advertisements and patent medicine testimonials. He was just
going through a convincing testimonial to the manifold virtues of
Spalding's Prepared Glue, when there was a bump, the sound of coupling,
and his car began to move off.

"Glory, we're goin' home!" shouted the Deacon, waving his paper
exultingly to the railroad men who had been so helpful. But he exulted
prematurely. The engine rattled ahead sharply for a few hundred yards,
and then began backing to opposite the spot where it had started from.

"That's all right," said his railroads friends encouragingly. "She's
just run back on the other switch to take up a couple more cars. She'll
go ahead all right presently."

"I hope it is all right," said the Deacon, a little abashed; "but I
never had any use for a hoss that went back more'n he did forrard."

But this was only the first of many similar experiences, which occupied
the rest of the day.

"Good gracious, do they want to wear the track and wheels and injines
clean out?" grumbled the Deacon. "No wonder they're all out o' order. If
I jammed my wagon back and forrard this way it wouldn't last a month. No
wonder war-taxes are high, with everybody doin' all they kin to waste
and destroy property. I've a great mind to write to Gen. Rosecrans or
President Lincoln callin' attention to the way their hired men monkey
around, and waste time, and don't accomplish nothin'."

Some time after dark, and after the Deacon's patience had become well-
nigh exhausted, the railroad men came around with a lantern, and told
him that at last it was settled, and the train would move out very soon.
There had been conflicting orders during the day, but now the Chief
Quartermaster at Nashville had ordered the train forward. Sure enough,
the train pulled out presently, and went rattling up toward Shelbyville.
Again the Deacon's heart bounded high, and after watching the phantom-
like roadside for awhile, he grew very sleepy, and crawled in alongside
of Si. He waked up at daylight, and went at once to the car-door
hopefully expecting to recognize the outskirts of Nashville, or at least
Murfreesboro. To his dismay, he saw the same sutler's shanty, mule-
corral, pile of baled-hay, and the embalmer's sign on a tree which had
been opposite them while standing on the track at Bridgeport.

Shorty swore volubly, and for once the Deacon did not check him, but was
sinfully conscious in his heart of approving the profanity.

"Swearin's awful wicked and low," he said to himself. "A sensible man
can get along without it ordinarily, by the grace o' God and hard
tryin', though I've knowed a yoke o' dumbed steers in a stumpy field to
purty nigh overcome me. But the army's no common experience, and I
s'pose a man's justified in bustin' out in a time like this. Old Job was
lucky that he didn't have to ride on an army railroad."

In Despair, the Deacon Turned to a Major. 77

His railroad friend again came up with some hot coffee and broiled meat,
and explained that after the train had reached a station some miles out
it got orders to run back and clear the track for some trains of troops
from the Army of the Potomac which were being rushed through. The
Deacon's heart almost sank in despair, but he took the coffee and meat,
and helped the boys to it. As they were all eating they heard a voice
outside which struck on the chords of their memories:

"Where is that Yard-Boss? Where is that Yard-Boss? Find him and send him
to me, immediately."

"That sounds like Levi Rosenbaum," said Shorty.

Si nodded affirmatively.

The Deacon looked out,' and recognized Levi dressed in the hight of
fashion. On his jetty curls sat a glossy silk hat, his clothes looked as
if just taken from the tailor's shop, and they fitted him to perfection.
A large diamond flashed from his scarfpin, and another gleamed in a ring
on his right hand as he waved it in giving orders to the men around.
Every eye was fixed on him, and when he spoke there was hastening to
obey. The Yard-Boss was coming at a run.

"Why are those cotton-cars still standing there this morning, after the
orders I gave you yesterday?" asked Levi, in tones of severest
reprehension, as that official came up.

"Why, Mr. Rosenbaum," said that official apologetically\x97he was the same
man who had so severely snubbed the Deacon the day before\x97"you see I had
the train made up and all ready to start, when there came orders\x97"

"Whose orders?" demanded Levi. "Who dares give orders that over-ride
mine? You go at once and have an engine\x97the best one you have\x97hitched
on. Couple on my car, and be ready to start in 15 minutes. Fifteen
minutes I give you," continued he, looking at his watch. "Tell the Train
Dispatcher to clear everything into switches until we get to
Murfreesboro, and have the operator at Murfreesboro lay by everything
till we get to Nashville."

The Yard-Boss rushed off to execute the order.

"Great Jehosephat, what's come over Levi?" muttered Shorty. "Has he
become the High-muk-a-muk of the whole army? Have they put him in Gen.
Rosecrans's place?"

"Will I dare to speak to such a high-flyer?" said the Deacon,
doubtfully.

Levi's eyes, flashed from one point to another, rested on the Deacon for
a moment, and the latter wreathed his face with a grin of recognition.
Then Levi's stern countenance relaxed with a still broader grin.

"Hello, 'Squire," he shouted joyously. "Is that you? Where are the
boys?" And he rushed forward with outstretched hand.

"I've got 'em in here, badly hurt," answered the Deacon, jumping to the
ground and grasping the outstretched hand in his own horny palm. "I'm
very glad to see you, Mr. Rosenbaum."

"Glad ain't no name for it," said Levi. "Did you say you'd got the boys
in there? Here, you men, bring me two or three of those cracker-boxes."

By the aid of the cracker-boxes Levi climbed into the car, and shook the
boys' hands, and cried and talked mingled gladness and sympathy in his
broken English.

"What place have you got, and what are you doin' down here, Mr.
Rosenbaum," the Deacon asked in the first lull.

"O, I'm Special Agent of the Treasury in charge of the cotton business.
You see, these rascals have been stealing the Treasury blind, in cotton,
and they had to have an honest man down here, who was up to all their
tricks, and wouldn't stand no nonsense. They sent me, and gave me orders
which make me boss of the whole outfit. None of them outrank me about
these trains."

"So I see," said the Deacon. "Wisht I'd had a handful of your authority
yesterday."

"Here, we're wasting time," said Levi suddenly. "You're tryin' to get
these boys back home. I'll see that they get as far as the Ohio River as
fast as the train'll go. Here, six or eight of you men pick up these
boys and carry them over to my car there. Handle them as if they were
eggs, for they're my friends."

There was no lack of willing hands to execute this order. That was long
before the days of private cars, even for railway magnates, but
Rosenbaum had impressed a caboose for himself, which he had had fitted
up with as many of the comforts of a home as were available at that era
of car-building. He had a good bed with a spring mattress for himself
and another for his friends, table, chairs, washroom and a fairly-
equipped kitchen, stored with provisions, for he was as fond of good
living as of sumptuous raiment. All this and more he was only too glad
to place at the disposal of the Deacon and the boys. The Deacon himself
was not more solicitous about their comfort.

The train started as Levi had ordered, and sped along on a clear track
to Nashville. Cotton was needed at the North almost as much as rations
were needed at the front, and a train loaded with Treasury cotton had
superior rights to the track which must not be disregarded. At Nashville
a friend of Levi's, a Surgeon of generally recognized skill, and whom
Levi had telegraphed for, came aboard with a couple of skilled nurses,
who bathed the boys, dressed their wounds, and replaced their soiled,
torn clothes with new, clean ones, including fine, soft underwear from
Levi's own wardrobe.

"Say, Doc," said Shorty, after this was finished and he had devoured a
supper cooked under Levi's special care, "I feel so much better that I
don't believe there's any need o' my goin on any further. I'll jest lay
by here, and go into Convalescent Camp for a few days, and then go back
to the front with a squad, and help clean up our cracker line. I'd like
awfully well to have a hand in runnin' them rebels offen Lookout
Mountain. They've bin too infernally impudent and sassy for any earthly
use."

"Indeed you won't," said the Surgeon decisively. "You'll go straight
home, and stay there until you are well. You won't be fit for duty for
at least a month yet, if then. If you went out into camp now you would
have a relapse, and be dead inside of a week. The country between here
and Chattanooga is dotted with the graves of men who have been sent back
to the front too soon."

The journey to Louisville was delightful. At Louisville Levi tried hard
to get his caboose taken across the river and attached to a train on the
other side, so that the boys could go clear home in it. But a Special
Treasury Agent had but little of the importance north of the Ohio River
that he had south of it. Still, Levi managed to get the crew of an
accommodation train interested in the boys, whom he had driven across
the river on a light wagon, lying on his spring mattress. They were
placed in a comfortable caboose, and soon were speeding on the last
stretch of the journey.

The day was bright and sunny, and the boys were propped up, so that they
could look out of the windows and enjoy the scenery. That they were
nearing home made Si nervous and fidgety. It seemed to him that the
train only crawled, and stopped interminably at every station and
crossing. The Deacon became alarmed lest this should unfavorably affect
him, and resorted to various devices to divert his mind. He bought a
Cincinnati Gazette, and began reading it aloud. Si was deeply interested
in all the war news, particularly that relating to the situation at
Chattanooga, but he would not listen to the merits of Spalding's
Prepared Glue.

The day wore away towards evening.

"Ain't we most there, Pap?" Si asked querulously.

"About 25 mile away, I think," answered his father. "I disremember just
how fur that last stop is from the Crick, but I think it's betwixt 25
and 30 mile."

Just then the whistle blew for a stop.

"What'n the world are they stoppin' here for?" groaned Si. "Some woman's
got a dozen aigs or a pound o' butter that she wants to send to town. I
s'pose we'll stop here until she finishes churnin', or gits another aig
to make up a dozen. I never did see sich putterin' along."

The Deacon was deeply absorbed in an editorial on "President Lincoln's
duty in this Crisis," and paid no attention. Shorty craned his long neck
out of the window.

"Some gal's stopped the train to git on," he reported to Si. "She's
apparently been payin' a visit to a house up there a little ways, and
they've brung her down in a buggy with her trunk. She's dressed up fit
to kill, and she's purtier than a peach-blossom. Jehosephat, Si, I
believe she's the very same gal that you was castin' sheep's eyes at
when you was home. Yes, it is."

"Annabel?" gasped Si.

"What's that?" said the Deacon, rousing to interest, but carefully
putting his thumb down to mark the place where he left off.

"Shorty thinks Annabel is out there gittin' on the train."

"Eh," said the Deacon, shoving up his spectacles and taking a good look.
"It certainly is. She's been down here to see the Robinses, who live out
here somewhere. I'll jest go out and bring her in here."



CHAPTER VI. THE BOYS IN THE OLD HOME ON BEAN BLOSSOM CREEK.

THE Deacon had been afraid to telegraph directly to his wife that he was
bringing the boys home. He knew the deadly alarm that would seize mother
and daughters at the very sight of the yellow telegraph envelope
directed to them. They would interpret it to mean that Si was dead, and
probably in their grief fail to open the envelope and read the message.
So at Jeffersonville he sent a message to Sol Pringle, the agent and
operator at the station. The Deacon remembered the strain the former
message had been on the young operator's intelligence, besides he
himself was not used to writing messages, and so, regardless of expense,
he conveyed his thoughts to Sol in this wise:

Deer Sol: put yore thinkin' cap on, and understand just what Ime sayin'.
I want you to send word out to the house at once that Ime comin' home
this evenin' on the accommodation train, and bringing the boys. Be
keerful and doant make a fool of yourself and skeer the wimmin fokes.

Respectfully yores, Josiah Klegg.

Sol had plenty of time to study that dispatch out, and he not only sent
word as desired, but he communicated the news to all who came to the
station. The result was there was quite a crowd of friends there to
greet the home-comers.

The reception of the message had thrown the household into a flurry of
joyful expectancy. It was far better news than the Deacon's last letter
had led them to anticipate. After a few moments of tearful ejaculation
and mutual kissing over it, mother and daughters began to get everything
in readiness to give the returning ones the warmest, most cheerful
welcome. Abraham Lincoln was summoned in from his rail-splitting, which
he had been pursuing quite leisurely during the Deacon's absence, and
stirred to spasmodic energy under Maria's driving to cut an additional
supply of dry wood, and carry it into every room in the house, where
little Sammy Woggles, the orphan whom the Deacon and Mrs. Klegg were
bringing up, built cheer-shedding fires. Mrs. Klegg had her choicest
young chickens killed, and after she and Amanda had robbed every other
room of whatever they thought would add to the comfort of Si's, she set
herself to work preparing a supper which would outdo all her previous
efforts.

Hours before the train was due Maria had Abraham Lincoln bring out the
spring-wagon and hitch the horses to it. Then he had to lay in a bed of
clean straw, and upon this was placed a soft feather bed, blankets and
pillows. Maria decided that she would drive to the station herself.

"Never do in the world," said she, "to trust them skittish young horses,
what hain't done a lick o' work since Pap went away, to that stoopid
darky. They'd surely run away and break his neck, which 'd be no great
loss, and save lots o' provisions, but they'd smash that new wagon and
break their own necks, which are worth more'n $200 apiece."

"Maria, how can you talk so?" said the gentle Mrs. Klegg reprovingly.
"It's a sin to speak so lightly o' death o' a feller-creature."

"Well, if he's a feller-creature o' mine," returned the sprightly Maria,
"the Lord made a slack-twisted job of him some dark night out o'
remnants, and couldn't find no gumption to put in him. He gave him an
alligator's appetite instid. And ain't I tryin' to save his life?
Besides, I'm nearly dead to see Si. I want to be the first to see him."

This aroused Amanda, but Maria stood on her rights as the elder sister,
had her way, as she usually did, and drove away triumphantly fully two
hours before train-time.

Upon her arrival at the station she quickly recognized that she was the
central figure in the gathering crowd, and she would have been more than
a young woman if she had not made the most of her prominence.

Other girls were there with their fathers and mothers who had brothers
who had been in the three months' service, or were now in three years
regiments, or who had been discharged on account of disability, or who
had been in this battle or that, but none of them a brother who had
distinguished himself in the terrible battle about which everybody was
now talking, who had helped capture a rebel flag, who had been wounded
almost to death, who had been reported dead, and who was now coming
home, a still living evidence of all this. No boy who had gone from Bean
Blossom Creek neighborhood had made the figure in the public eye that Si
had, and Maria was not the girl to hide the light of his achievements
under a bushel. She was genially fraternal with those girls who had
brothers still in the service, affable to those whose brothers had been
in, but were now, for any reason, out, but only distantly civil to those
whose brothers had not enlisted. Of these last was Arabella Widgeon,
whose father had been one of the earliest immigrants to the Wabash, and
was somewhat inclined to boast of his Old Virginia family. He owned a
larger farm than the Deacon's, and Arabella, who was a large, showy
girl, a year or two older than Maria, had been her schoolmate, and,
Maria thought, disposed to "put on airs" over her. Arabella's brother
Randolph was older than Si, but had chosen to continue his studies at
Indianapolis rather than engage in "a war to free the niggers." But
Arabella had developed an interest in the war since she had met some
engaging young gentlemen who had come through the neighborhood on
recruiting duty, and was keeping up a fitful correspondence with two or
three of them.

"It must be very nice, Maria," said Arabella, with a show of cordiality,
but which Maria interpreted as an attempt to patronize, "to have your
brother back home with you again."

"It certainly will be. Miss Widgeon," answered Maria, with strictly
"company manners." "One who has never had a brother exposed to the
constant dangers of army life can hardly understand how glad we all feel
to have Si snatched from the very jaws of death and brung back to us."

"That's a little love-tap that'll settle several scores with Miss
Frills," Maria chuckled to herself. "Partickerly the airs she put on
over all us girls when she was running around to singing-school and
church with that Second Lieutenant, who ain't got across the Ohio River
yet, and I don't believe he intends to. Sol Pringle tells me all his
letters to her are postmarked Jeffersonville."

Arabella took no seeming notice of the shot, but came back sweetly:

"I am awfully glad that your brother was not hurt so badly as at first
reported. He couldn't be, and be able to come home now. These papers do
magnify everything so, and make no end of fuss over little things as
well as big ones, I was very much alarmed at first, for fear Si might be
really badly hurt."

This was too much for Maria. Her company manners slid off like a drop of
water from a cabbage leaf, and she answered hotly:

"I'd have you know. Miss Widgeon, the papers don't magnify the matter.
They don't make a fuss over nothing. They don't begin to tell all the
truth. None o' them can. My brother was nearer dead than any man who
ever lived. Nothing but the favor of God and Klegg grit pulled him
through. It'd killed a whole house full o' Randy Widgeons or that Second
Lieutenant. I remember Randy Widgeon turning pale and a'most fainting
when he run a fish-hook in his finger. If it ain't nothing, why don't
Randy Widgeon go down there a little while, with the rest o' the boys,
and do his share?"

"My brother disbelieves in the constitutionality of this war, and denies
that we have any right to take away other people's slaves," said
Arabella loftily. "I s'pose he's a right to his opinions."

"A poor excuse's better'n none," retorted Maria. "I noticed that he
didn't turn out last Summer to keep John Morgan from stealing our
people's horses, and robbing their stores and houses. S'pose he thought
it unconstitutional to let a nasty rebel gorilla shoot at him. It's very
convenient to have opinions to keep you from doin' things that you're
afraid to do."

The dialog was approaching the volcanic stage, when a poorly-dressed,
sad-faced woman, with a babe in her arms, edged through the crowd to
Maria, and said timidly, for she had never been accounted by the Kleggs
as in their set:

"Miss Maria, I don't s'pose you know me, but I do so want to git a
chance to speak to your pap as soon as he gets here, and before all
these people gits hold of him. Mebbe he's found out something about poor
Jim. I can't believe that Jim was killed, and I keep hopin' that he got
away somehow, and is in one o' them hospitals. Mebbe your pap knows. I
know you think Jim was bad and rough, but he was mighty good to me, and
he's all that I had. I'm nearly dead to hear about him, but I can't
write, nor kin Jim. I've bin tryin' to make up my mind to come over to
your house, and ax you to write for me."

"Of course, you can, you poor, dear woman," said Maria, her mood
changing at once from fierceness to loving pity. "You shall be the first
one to speak to Pap and Si after me. Why didn't you come over to see us
long ago. We'd only bin too glad to see you, and do all we could for
you. Yes, I know you.

"You're Polly Blagdon, and live down by the sawmill, where your husband
used to work. You look tired and weak carrying that big baby. Let me
hold him awhile and rest you. Sit down there on that box. I'll make Sol
Pringle clear it off for you."

'arabella Curled Her Lip at Seeing Maria Take the Baby.' 87

Arabella curled her nose, at seeing Maria take the unwashed baby in her
arms, to the imminent danger of her best gown, but Maria did not notice
this, and was all loving attention to the baby and its mother.

It seemed an age until the whistle of the locomotive was heard. The
engine had to stop to take water at the creek, several hundred yards
from the station, and Maria's impatience to see Si and be the first to
speak to him could not brook the delay.

"Come along, Mrs. Blagdon," she called, and with the baby still in her
arms, she sped down the cinder track to the pumping station, and then
along the line of freight cars until she recognized her father's face
looking from the caboose, which was still beyond the bridge. She shouted
joyously at him.

"Maria's out there, waitin' for us, and she's got a baby in her arms.
What do you suppose she thinks we want a baby for?"

"'Spect she's been practicin' on it, so's to take care o' us, Si," said
Shorty. "I believe we've been more trouble to your father than we wuz to
our mothers when we wuz teethin'."

"I've bin repaid for all, more'n repaid for all," said the Deacon;
"especially since I'm once more back home, and out o' the reach o' the
Sheriffs o' Tennessee. I'll stay away from Chattanoogy till after the
Grand Jury meets down there. If it does its dooty there'll be several
bills with Josiah Klegg's name entirely too conspicuous."

"I want to be able to git out to the next covenant meetin', Pap," said
Si with a grin, "and hear you confess to the brethren and sisters all
that you've bin up to down at Chattanoogy."

"Well, you won't git there," said the Deacon decisively. "We don't allow
nobody in there who hain't arrived at the years o' discreetion, which'll
keep you out for a long time yit."

The train pulled over across the bridge, and handing the baby to its
mother, Maria sprang in, to recoil in astonishment at the sight of
Annabel's blushing face.

"You mean thing," said Maria, "to steal a march on me this way, when I
wanted to be the first to see Si. Where in the world did you come from,
and how did you find out he was comin' home on this train? Si, you
didn't let her know before you did us, did you?"

She was rent by the first spasm of womanly jealousy that any other woman
should come between her brother and his mother and sisters.

"Don't be cross, Maria," pleaded Annabel. "I didn't know nothin' of it.
You know I've been down to see the Robinses, and intended to stay till
tomorrer, but something moved me to come home today, and I just happened
to take this train. I really didn't know. Yet," and the instinctive
rights of her womanhood and her future relations with Si asserted
themselves to her own wonderment, "I had what the preachers call an
inward promptin', which I felt it my dooty to obey, and I now think it
came from God. You know I ought to be with Si as soon as anybody," and
she hid her face in her hands in maidenly confusion.

"Of course you ought, you dear thing," said Maria, her own womanhood
overcoming her momentary pique. "It was hateful o' me to speak that way
to you."

And she kissed Annabel effusively, though a little deadness still
weighed at her heart over being supplanted, even by the girl she liked
best in all the world after her own sister.

If the young folks had not been so engaged in their own affairs they
would have seen the Deacon furtively undoing his leathern pocket-book
and slipping a greenback into the weeping Mrs. Blagdon's hand, as the
only consolation he was able to give her.

There were plenty of strong, willing hands to help carry Si from the
caboose to the wagon. It was strange how tender and gentle those strong,
rough farmers could be in handling a boy who had been stricken down in
defense of his country. Annabel's face was as red as a hollyhock over
the way that everybody assumed her right to be next to Si, and those who
could not get a chance at helping him helped her to a seat in the wagon
alongside of him, while the dethroned Maria took her place by her
father, as he gathered the reins in his sure hands and started home.
Maria had to expend some of the attentions she meant for Si upon Shorty,
who received them with awkward confusion.

"Now, don't make no great shakes out o' me, Miss Maria," he pleaded. "I
didn't do nothin' partickler, I tell you. I was only along o' Si when he
snatched that rebel flag, and I got a little crack on the head, which
wouldn't 've amounted to nothin', if I hadn't ketched the fever at
Chattanoogy. I'm a'most well, and only come back home to please the
Surgeon, who was tired seein' me around."

They found the house a blaze of light, shining kindly from the moment it
came in sight, and there was a welcome in Towser's bark which touched
Si's heart.

"Even the dogs bark differently up here. Shorty," he said. "It's full
and honest, and don't mean no harm. You know that old Towser ain't
barkin' to signal some bushwhackers that the Yankees 's comin'. It
sounds like real music."

It was Mrs. Klegg's turn to receive a shock when she rushed out to greet
her son, and found Annabel by his side. It went deeper to her heart than
it had to Maria's; but, then, she had more philosophy, and had foreseen
it longer.

After everything had been done, after she had fed them her carefully-
prepared dishes, after the boys had been put to bed in the warmed room,
and she knew they were sleeping the sound sleep of deep fatigue, she
went to her own room to sit down and think it all over. There Maria
found her, wiping away her tears, and took her in her arms, and kissed
her.

"It's right. It's all right. It's God's ways," said the mother.

"A son's a son till he gets a wife; But a daughter's a daughter all her
life."



CHAPTER VII. WEEKS OF CONVALESCENCE PLENTY OF NURSING FROM LOVING,
TENDER HANDS.

WHAT days those were that followed the arrival of the boys home. In
Shorty's hard, rough life he had never so much as dreamed of such
immaculate housekeeping as Mrs. Klegg's. He had hardly been in speaking
distance of such women as Si's mother and sisters. To see these bright,
blithe, sweet-speeched women moving about the well-ordered house in busy
performance of their duties was a boundless revelation to him. It opened
up a world of which he had as little conception as of a fairy realm. For
the first time he began to understand things that Si had told him of his
home, yet it meant a hundredfold more to him than to Si, for Si had been
brought up in that home. Shorty began to regard the Deacon and Si as
superior beings, and to stand in such awe of Mrs. Klegg and the girls
that he became as tongue-tied as a bashful school-boy in their presence.
It amazed him to hear Si, when the girls would teaze him, speak to them
as sharply as brothers sometimes will, and just as if they were ordinary
mortals.

"Si, you orter to be more careful in talkin' to your sisters," he
remonstrated when they were alone.

"You've bin among rough men so long that you don't know how to talk to
real ladies."

"O, come off," said Si, petulantly. "What's a-eatin you. You don't know
them girls as well as I do. Particularly Maria. She'll run right over
you if you let her. She's one o' the best girls that ever breathed, but
you've got to keep a tight rein on her. The feller that marries her's
got to keep the whip-hand or she'll make him wish that he'd never bin
born."

Shorty's heart bounded at the thought of any man having the unspeakable
happiness of marrying that peerless creature, and then having the
meanness not to let her do precisely as she wanted to.

Both the boys had been long enough in the field to make that plain farm
home seem a luxurious palace of rest. The beds were wonders of softness
and warmth, from which no unwelcome reveille or cross-grained Orderly-
Sergeant aroused them with profane threats of extra duty.

Instead, after peeping cautiously through the door to see that they were
awake, the girls would come in with merry greeting, bowls of warm water,
and soft, white towels fragrant of the lawn. Maria would devote herself
to helping Shorty get ready for breakfast, and Amanda to Si. Shorty
trembled like a captured rabbit when Maria first began her
ministrations. All his blood rushed to his face, and he tried to mumble
something about being able to take care of himself, which that
straightforward young woman paid not the slightest attention to. After
his first fright was over there was a thrilling delight about the
operation which electrified him.

When the boys were properly washed and combed, Mrs. Klegg, her kind,
motherly face beaming with consciousness of good and acceptable service,
would enter with a large tray, laden with fragrant coffee, delicious
cream, golden butter, her own peerless bread and bits of daintily-
broiled chicken.

"Si," said Shorty, one morning after he had finished the best breakfast
he had ever known, the girls had gone away with the things, and he was
leaning back thinking it all over in measureless content, "if the
preachers'd preach that a feller'd go to such a place as this when he
died if he was real good, how good we'd all be, and we'd be rather
anxious to die. How in the world are we ever goin' to git up spunk
enough to leave this and go back to the field?"

"You'll git tired o' this soon enough," said Si. "It's awful nice for a
change, but I don't want it to last long. I want to be able to git up
and git out. I hate awfully to have women-folks putterin' around me."

The boys could not help rapidly recovering under such favorable
conditions, and soon they were able to sit up most of the day. In the
evening, ensconced in the big Shaker rocking chairs, sitting on pillows,
and carefully swathed in blankets, they would sit on either side of the
bright fire, with the family and neighbors forming the semi-circle
between, and talk over the war interminably. The neighbors all had sons
and brothers in the army, either in the 200th Ind. or elsewhere, and
were hungry for every detail of army news. They plied Si and Shorty with
questions until the boys' heads ached. Then the Deacon would help out
with his observations of camp-life.

"I'm not goin' to believe," said one good old brother, who was an
exhorter in the Methodist Church, "that the army is sich a pitfall, sich
a snare to the feet o' the unwary as many try to make out. There's no
need of any man or boy who goes to serve his country and his God,
fallin' from grace and servin' the devil. Don't you think so, too.
Deacon? There's no reason why he shouldn't be jest as good a man there
as he is at home. Don't you think so, too. Deacon Klegg?"

"Um\x97um-um," hemmed the Deacon, getting red in the face, and avoiding
answering the question by a vigorous stirring of the fire, while Si
slily winked at Shorty. "I impressed that on son Jed's mind when he
enlisted," continued the brother. "Jed was always a good, straight up-
and-down boy; never gave me or his mother a minute's uneasiness. I told
him to have no more to do with cards than with smallpox; to avoid liquor
as he would the bite of a rattlesnake; to take nothin' from other people
that he didn't pay full value for; that swearin' was a pollution to the
lips and the heart. I know that Jed hearkened to all that I said, and
that it sank into his heart, and that he'll come back, if it's God's
will that he shall come back, as good a boy as when he went away."

Si and Shorty did not trust themselves to look at one another before the
trusting father's eyes, for Jedediah Bennett, who was one of the best
soldiers in Co. Q, had developed a skill at poker that put all the other
boys on their mettle; and as for foraging\x97well, neither Si nor Shorty
ever looked for anything in a part where Jed Bennett had been.

"Deacon," persisted Mr. Bennett, "you saw a great deal o' the army. You
didn't see the wickedness down there that these Copperheads 's chargin',
did you? You only found men wicked that'd be wicked any place, and
really good men jest as good there as at home?"

"It's jest as you say, Mr. Bennett," answered the Deacon, coughing to
gain time for a diplomatic answer, and turning so that the boys could
not see his face. "A wicked man's wicked anywhere, and he finds more
chance for his wickedness in the army. A good man ought to be good
wherever he's placed, but there are positions which are more tryin' than
others. By the way, Maria, bring us some apples and hickory nuts. Bring
in a basketful o' them Rome Beauties for Mr. Bennett to take home with
him. You recollect them trees that I budded with Rome Beauty scions that
I got up the river, don't you, Bennett? Well, they bore this year, and
I've bin calculatin' to send over some for you and Mrs. Bennett. I tell
you, they're beauties indeed. Big as your fist, red as a hollyhock,
fragrant as a rose, and firm and juicy. I have sent for scions enough to
bud half my orchard. I won't raise nothin' hereafter but Rome Beauties
and Russets."

The apples and nuts were brought in, together with some of Mrs. Klegg's
famous crullers and a pitcher of sweet cider, and for awhile all were
engaged in discussing the delicious apples. To paraphrase Dr. Johnson,
God undoubtedly could make a better fruit than a Rome Beauty apple from
a young tree, growing in the right kind of soil, but undoubtedly He
never did. The very smell of the apple is a mild intoxication, and its
firm, juicy flesh has a delicacy of taste that the choicest vintages of
the Rhine cannot surpass.

But Mr. Bennett was persistent on the subject of morality in the army.
He soon refused the offer of another apple, laid his knife back on the
plate, put the plate on the table, wiped his mouth and hands, and said:

"Deacon, these brothers and sisters who have come here with me to-night
are, like myself, deeply interested in the moral condition of the army,
where we all have sons or kinsmen. Now, can't you sit right there and
tell us of your observations and experiences, as a Christian man and
father, from day to day, of every day that you were down there? Tell us
everything, just as it happened each day, that we may be able to judge
for ourselves."

Si trembled a httle, for fear that they had his father cornered. But the
Deacon was equal to the emergency.

"It's a'most too late, now, Mr. Bennett," he said, looking at the clock,
"for it's a long story. You know I was down there quite a spell. We
can't keep these boys out o' bed late now, and by the time we have
family worship it'll be high time for them to be tucked in. Won't you
read us a chapter o' the Bible and lead us in prayer, Brother Bennett?"

While Shorty was rapidly gaining health and strength, his mind was ill
at ease. He had more time than ever to think of Jerusha Briggs, of Bad
Ax, Wis., and his surroundings accentuated those thoughts. He began by
wondering what sort of a girl she really was, compared to Si's sisters,
and whether she was used to such a home as this? Was she as handsome, as
fine, as high-spirited as Maria? Then his loyal soul reproached him. If
she would have him he would marry her, no matter who she she was. Why
should he begin now making comparisons with other girls? Then, she might
be far finer than Maria. How would he himself compare with her, when he
dared not even raise his eyes to Maria?

He had not written her since the Tullahoma campaign. That seemed an age
away, so many things had happened in the meanwhile.

He blamed himself for his neglect, and resolved to write at once, to
tell her where he was, what had happened to him, and that he was going
to try to visit her before returning to the field. But difficult as
writing had always been, it was incomparably more so now. He found that
where he thought of Jerusha once, he was thinking of Maria a hundred
times. Not that he would admit to himself there was any likeness in his
thoughts about the two girls. He did not recognize that there was
anything sentimental in those about Maria. She was simply some
infinitely bright, superior sort of a being, whose voice was sweeter
than a bird's, and whose presence seemed to brighten the room. He found
himself uncomfortable when she was out of sight. The company of Si or
his father was not as all-sufficient and interesting as it used to be.
When Maria went out of the room they became strangely dull and almost
tiresome, unless they talked of her.

Worse yet. As he grew stronger and better able to take care of himself
Maria dropped the familiarity of the nurse, and began putting him on the
footing of a young gentleman and a guest of the house. She came no more
into the room with the basin of warm water, and got him ready for his
breakfast. She toned down carefully with every improvement in his
strength. First, she merely brought him the basin and towel, and then as
he grew able to go about she would rap on his door and tell him to come
out and get ready for breakfast. Shorty began to feel that he was losing
much by getting well, and that his convalescence had been entirely too
rapid.

Then he would go off and try to compose his thoughts for a letter to
Jerusha Briggs, but before he knew it he would find himself in the
kitchen watching, with dumb admiration, Maria knead bread, with her
sleeves rolled to her shoulders, and her white, plump arms and bright
face streaked with flour. There would be little conversation, for Maria
would sing with a lark's voice, as she worked, some of the sweet old
hymns, chording with Amanda, busy in another part of the house. Shorty
did not want to talk. It was enough for him to feast his eyes and ears.

They were sitting down to supper one evening when little Sammy Woggles
came in from the station.

"There's your Cincinnati Gazette," he said, handing the paper to the
Deacon, "and there's a letter for Si."

"Open it and read it, Maria," said Si, to whom reading of letters meant
labor, and he was yet too weak for work.

"It's postmarked Chattanooga, Tenn.," said she, scanning the envelope
carefully, "and addressed to Sergeant Josiah Klegg, 200th Indiana
Volunteer Infantry, Bean Blossom Creek, Ind."

"Sergeant!" ejaculated Si, Shorty and the Deacon, in the same breath.
"Are you sure it's Sergeant?"

"Yes, it's Sergeant," said Maria, spelling the title out. "Who in the
world do you s'pose it's from, Si?"

"It don't seem to occur to you that you could find out by openin' it,"
said the Deacon, sarcastically.

"Open it and see who it's from," said Si.

"The man writes a mighty nice hand," said Maria, scanning the
superscription. "Just like that man that taught writing-school here last
Winter. It can't be from him, can it? Didn't s'pose there was anybody in
your company that could write as well as that. Look, Si, and see if you
can tell whose handwritin' it is."

"O, open it, Maria," groaned Si, "and you'll likely find his name writ
somewhere inside."

"Don't be so impatient. Si," said Maria, feeling around for a hair-pin
with which to rip open the envelope. "You're gittin' crosser'n two
sticks since you're gittin' well."

"He certainly does write a nice hand," said Maria, scanning the
inclosure deliberately. "Just see how he makes his d's and s's. All his
up-strokes are light, and all his down ones are heavy, just as the
writing-master used to teach. And his curves are just lovely. And what a
funny name he has signed. J. T. No; I. T. No; that's a J, because it
comes down below the line. M-c-G-i-l-l\x97I can't make out the rest."

"McGillicuddy; ain't that it?" said Si eagerly. "It's from Capt.
McGillicuddy. Read it, Maria."

"McGillicuddy. Well, of all the names!" said that deliberate young
woman. "Do you really mean to say that any man has really such a name as
that?"

"'Mandy, take that letter away from her and read it," commanded Si.

"Well, I'm goin' to read your old letter for you, if you'll just gi' me
time," remonstrated Maria. "What are you in such a hurry for, old cross-
patch? Le' me see:

"Headquarters, Co. Q, 200th Indiana Volunteer Infantry. "Chattanooga,
Tenn., Nov. 20, 1863. "Sergeant Josiah Klegg.

"Dear Klegg: I have not heard from you since you left, but I am going to
hope that you are getting well right along. All the boys think of you
and Shorty, and send their love and their hopes that you will soon be
back with us. We all miss you very much.

"I have some good news for you and Shorty. On my recommendation the
Colonel has issued a special order promoting you Sergeant and Shorty
Corporal, for gallant and meritorious services at the battle of
Chickamauga, in which you captured a rebel flag. The order was read on
parade this evening. So it is Sergeant Klegg and Corporal Elliott
hereafter, and they will be obeyed and respected accordingly. You will
take poor Pettibone's place, and Elliott will take Harney's.

"I do not know where Elliott is, but expect that he is with you. If so,
give him the news, and also the inclosed letter, which came to me. If
not, and you know where he is, write him.

"Write me as soon as you can. We are all getting along very well,
especially since Grant came up and opened our cracker line. My little
hurt is healing nicely, so that I can go about with a cane. We are all
getting ready to jump old Bragg on Mission Ridge, and I am going to do
my best to go along at the head of Co. Q, though I have been Acting
Major and Lieutenant-Colonel since I got up.

"Regards to your father, and believe me, sincerely your friend,

"J. T. MCGILLICUDDY,

"Captain, Co. Q, 200th Ind. Inf. Vols."

Maria passed the letter over to Si to read again, and without more ado
opened the inclosure. As she did so, a glance of recognition of the
handwriting flashed upon Shorty, and he started to take the letter from
her, but felt ashamed to do so.

"Why, this is from a woman," said Maria, "and she writes an awful bad,
scratchy hand." Being a woman's letter she was bound to read it without
loss of time, and she did so:

"Bad Ax, Wis., Nov. 10.

"Capt. McGillicuddy.

"Dear Sir: I believe you command the company, as they call it, in which
there was a gentleman named Mr. Elliott. The papers reports that he was
kild at thfe battle of Chickamaugy. I had some correspondence with him,
and I sent him my picture.

Would you kindly write me the particklers of his death, and also what
was done with sich letters and other things that he had? I would very
much like to have you return me my letters and picture if you have them.
Send them by express to Miss Jerusha Briggs, at this plais, and I will
pay the charges. I will explain to you why I want them sent to a difrunt
naim than that which I sign. Upon learnin' of Mr. Elliott's deth I
excepted the addresses of Mr. Adams, whose wife passed away last summer.
You may think I was in a hurry, but widowers always mene bizniss when
they go a-courtin', as you will know if ever you was a widower, and he
had two little girls who needed a mother's care. My husband is inclined
to be jelous, as widowers usually are, and I don't want him to ever know
nothin' about my letters to Mr. Elliott, and him havin' my picture. I am
goin' to ask you to help me, as a gentleman and a Christian, and to keep
this confidential.

"Very respectfully,

"Mrs. Benj. F. Adams."

They all listened eagerly to the reading of the letter, and when it was
finished looked for Shorty. But he had gone outside, where there was
more air.

Shorty Went Outside Where There Was More Air. 101



CHAPTER VIII. SI IS PROMOTED ANNABEL APPRISED OF IT\x97SHORTY MEETS
JERUSHA.

ANNABEL came in just as the reading of the letter was finished and her
arrival caused a commotion in the family, as it always did, which
momentarily distracted attention from the missive and Shorty's absence.
She and the mother and daughters had to exchange kisses and news about
the health of both families. Then she had to give a filial kiss to the
Deacon, who had already begun to assume paternal airs toward her, and
finally she got around to Si. Neither of them had yet got to the point
of "kissing before folks," and had to be content with furtive squeezing
of hands. Si's heart was aching to have Annabel read Capt.
McGillicuddy's letter, yet such was his shame-faced modesty that not for
the world would he have alluded to it before the family. If he had been
alone with her, he might have slipped the letter unopened into her hand,
with a shy request for her to read it, but so sternly was the Deacon and
his family set against anything like "vainglory" and "self-praise" that
he could not bring himself to mention that such a letter had been
received. At last, when full particulars had been given about the spread
of measles and whooping-cough, who was to preach and who to be baptized
at the coming quarterly meeting, Maria's active mind turned to things
nearer Si's heart, and she said:

"O, Si's got sich a nice letter from his officer-boss, his Corporal, or
Colonel, or General, or whatever they call him\x97Mister\x97"

"My Captain\x97Capt. McGillicuddy, Maria," said Si, reddening at Maria's
indifference to and ignorance of military titles.

"Yes, Mr. McMillifuddy. Did you ever hear of such a ridiculous name?"

"McGillicuddy\x97Capt. McGillicuddy, Maria. Why can't you get his name
right?"

"Well, if I had sich a name as that I wouldn't expect people to git it
right. There's no sense in havin' a Dutch name that makes your tongue
crack like a whip. Well, this Mr. McFillemgoody is Si's boss, and he
writes a nice letter, and says Si done so well at Chickamaugy that some
other boss\x97a Colonel or Corporal\x97"

"The Colonel, Maria. The Colonel commands the whole regiment. Won't you
never know the difference? A Colonel's much higher than a Corporal. You
girls never will learn nothin'."

"Well, I never kin tell t'other from which," replied Maria, petulantly.
"And I don't have to. I don't care a hill o' beans whether a Corporal
bosses or a Colonel, or t'other way. Anyhow, Si's no longer a Corporal.
He's a Sargint."

"O, Si," said Annabel, her big blue eyes filling with grief; "I'm so
sorry."

"Why, Annabel," said Si, considerably abashed; "what's the matter? Don't
you understand. I'm promoted. Sergeant's higher than a Corporal."

"Is it really?" said Annabel, whose tears were beginning to come. "It
don't sound like it. Sargint don't sound near so big as Corporal. I
always thought that Corporal was the very purtiest title in the whole
army. None o' the rest o' them big names sounded half so nice. Whenever
I saw Corporal in the papers I always thought of you."

"Well, you must learn to like Sergeant just as well," said Si, fondly
squeezing her hand. "Maria, let her read the letter."

"Well, Mr. Gillmacfuddy does seem like a real nice, sociable sort of a
man, in spite of his name," she commented, as she finished. "And I like
him, because he seems to be such a good friend o' yours. I s'pose him
and you board together, and eat at the same table when you are in the
army, don't you?"

"O, no, we don't," said Si patiently, for her ignorance seemed
beautifully feminine, where Maria's was provoking. "You see, dear, he's
my Captain\x97commands about a hundred sich as me, and wears a sword and
shoulder-straps and other fine clothes, and orders me and the rest
around, and has his own tent, all by himself, and his servant to cook
for him, and we have to salute him, and do jest what he says, and not
talk back\x97at least, so he kin hear it, and jest lots o' things."

"Then I don't like him a bit," pouted Annabel. "He's a horrid, stuck-up
thing, and puts on airs. And he hain't got no business to put on airs
over you. Nobody's got any right to put on airs over you, for you're as
good as anybody alive."

Si saw that this task of making Annabel under stand the reason for
military rank was going to take some time, and could be better done when
they were by themselves, and he took her out by the kitchen-fire to make
the explanation.

For the very first time in his whole life Shorty had run away from a
crisis. With his genuine love of fighting, he rather welcomed any
awkward situation in which men were concerned. It was a challenge to
him, and he would carry himself through with a mixture of brass, bravado
and downright hard fighting. But he would have much more willingly faced
the concentrated fire of all the batteries in Bragg's army than Maria's
eyes as she raised them from that letter; and as for the comments of her
sharp tongue\x97well, far rather give him Longstreet's demons charging out
of the woods onto Snodgrass Hill. He walked out into the barn, and
leaned against the fanning-mill to think it all over. His ears burned
with the imagination of what Maria was saying. He was very uncomfortable
over what the rest of the family were thinking and saying, particularly
the view that dear old Mrs. Klegg might take. With the Deacon and Si it
was wholly different. He knew that, manlike, they averaged him up, one
day with another, and gave him the proper balance to his credit. But
Maria\x97there everything turned to gall, and he hated the very name of Bad
Ax, the whole State of Wisconsin and everybody in it. He would never
dare go back into the house and face the family. What could he do? There
was only one thing\x97get back to his own home, the army, as soon as
possible.

Little Sammy Woggles came out presently to get some wood. Shorty called
him to him. There was something fascinatingly mysterious in his tones
and actions to that youth, who devoured dime novels on the sly.

"Sammy," said Shorty, "I'm goin' away, right off, and I don't want the
people in the house to know nothin' of it. I want you to help me."

"You bet I will," responded the boy, with his eyes dancing. "Goin' to
run away? I'm goin to run away myself some day. I'm awful tired o'
havin' to git up in the mornin', wash my face and comb my hair, and do
the chores, and kneel down at family prayers, and go to Sunday, school,
and stay through church, and then have to spell out a chapter in the
Bible in the afternoon. I'm goin' to run away, and be a soldier, or go
out on the plains and kill Injuns. I'm layin' away things now for it.
See here?"

And he conducted Shorty with much mystery to a place behind the haymow,
where he had secreted an old single-barreled pistol and a falseface.

"You little brat," said Shorty, "git all them fool notions out o' your
head. This 's the best home you'll ever see, and you stay here just as
long as the Lord'll let you. You're playin' in high luck to be here.
Don't you ever leave, on no account."

"Then why're you goin' to run away," asked the boy wonderingly.

"That's my business. Something you can't understand, nohow. Now, I want
you to slip around there and git my overcoat and things and bring 'em
out to me, without nobody seein' you. Do it at once."

'sammy,' Said Shorty, 'i'm Goin' Away Right Off, and I Don't Want the
People to Know Nothin' of It.' 113

While Sammy was gone for the things Shorty laboriously wrote out a note
to Si upon a sheet of brown paper. It read:

"Deer Si; ive jest red in the papers that the army's goin' 2 move rite
off. i no tha need me bad in the kumpany, for tha are short on Korprils,
& tha can't do nothin' without Korprils. ive jest time 2 ketch the nekst
traine, & ime goin' thare ez fast ez steme kin carry me. Good-by & luv 2
all the folks.

"Yours, Shorty."

"There, Sammy," he said, as he folded it up and gave it to the boy;
"keep that quiet until about bed time, when they begin to inquire about
me. By that time I'll 've ketched the train goin' east, and be skippin'
out for the army. By the way, Sammy, can't you sneak into Miss Maria's
room, and steal a piece o' ribbon, or something that belongs to her?"

"I've got a big piece o' that new red Sunday dress o' her's," said
Sammy, going to his storehouse and producing it. "I cribbed it once, to
make me a flag or something, when I'd be out fightin' the Injuns. Will
that do you?"

"Bully," said Shorty, with the first joyous emotion since the reception
of the letter. "It's jest the thing. Here's a half-dollar for you. Now,
Sammy, kin you write?"

"They're makin' me learn, and that's one reason why I want to run away,"
with a doleful remembrance of his own grievances. "What's the use of it,
I'd like to know? It cramps my fingers and makes my head ache. Simon
Kenton couldn't write his own name, but he killed more Injuns than ary
other man in the country. I guess you'd want to run away, too, if they
made you learn to write."

"You little brat," said Shorty reprovingly; "you don't know what's good
for you. You do as they say, and learn to write as quick as you kin."
Then, in a softer tone: "Now, Sammy, I want you to promise to write me a
long letter\x97two sheets o' foolscap."

"Why, I never writ so much in all my life," protested the boy. "It'd
take me a year."

"Well, you've got to, now, and it mustn't take you two weeks. Here's a
dollar for you, and when I git the letter I'll send you home a real
rebel gun. Now, you're to cross your heart and promise on your sacred
word and honor that you'll keep this secret from everybody, not to tell
a word to nobody. You must tell me all about what they say about me, and
partickerlerly what Miss Maria says. Tell me everything you kin about
Miss Maria, and who goes with her."

"What makes you like Maria better'n you do 'Mandy?" inquired the boy. "I
like 'Mandy lots the best. She's heap purtier, and lots more fun, and
don't boss me around like Maria does."

"That's all you know about it, you little skeezics. She don't boss you
around half as much as she ought to." Then gentler: "Now, Sammy, do jest
as I say, and I'll send you home a real rebel gun jest as soon as I get
your letter."

"A real gun, that'll be all my own, and will shoot and kick, and crack
loud?"

"Yes, a genuine rebel gun, that you kin shoot crows with and celebrate
Christmas, and kill a dog."

"Well, I'll write you a letter if it twists my fingers off," said the
boy joyously.

"And you hope to be struck dead if you tell a word to anybody?"

"Yes, indeedy," said the boy, crossing his heart earnestly. Shorty
folded up the piece of dress goods tenderly, placed it securely in the
breast-pocket of his blouse, and trudged over to the station, stopping
on the summit of the hill to take a last look at the house. It was a
long, hard walk for him, for he was yet far from strong, but he got
their before train time.

It was the through train to St. Louis that he boarded, and the only
vacant seat that he could find was one partially filled with the
belongings of a couple sitting facing it, and very close together. They
had hold of one another's hands, and quite clearly were dressed better
than they were accustomed to. The man was approaching middle age, and
wore a shiny silk hat, a suit of broadcloth, with a satin vest, and a
heavy silver watch chain. His face was rather strong and hard, and
showed exposure to rough weather. The woman was not so much younger, was
tall and angular, rather uncomfortably conscious of her good clothes,
and had a firm, settled look about her mouth and eyes, which only
partially disappeared in response to the man's persistent endearments.
Still, she seemed more annoyed than he did at the seating of another
party in front of them, whose eyes would be upon them. The man lifted
the things to make room for Shorty, who commented to himself:

"Should think they was bride and groom, if they wasn't so old."

There was a vague hint that he had seen the face somewhere, but he
dismissed it, then settled himself, and, busy with his own thoughts,
pressed his face against the window, and tried to recognize through the
darkness the objects by which they were rushing. They were all deeply
interesting to him, for they were part of Maria's home and surroundings.
After awhile the man appeared temporarily tired of billing and cooing,
and thought conversation with some one else would give variety to the
trip. He opened their lunch-basket, took out something for himself and
his companion to eat, nudged Shorty, and offered him a generous handful.
Shorty promptly accepted, for he had the perennial hunger of
convalescence, and his supper had been interrupted.

"Going back to the army?" inquired the man, with his mouth full of
chicken, and by way of opening up the conversation.

"Um\x97huh," said Shorty, nodding assent.

"Where do you belong?"

"200th Injianny Volunteer Infantry."

If Shorty had been noticing the woman he would have seen her start, but
would have attributed it to the lurching of the cars. She lost interest
in the chicken leg she was picking, and listened to the continuance of
the conversation.

"I mean, what army do you belong to?"

"Army o' the Cumberland, down at Chattanoogy."

"Indeed; I might say that I belong to that army myself. I'm going down
that way, too. You see, my Congressman helped me get a contract for
furnishing the Army o' the Cumberland with bridge timber, and I'm going
down to Looeyville, and mebbe further, to see about it. We've just come
from St. Louis, where I've bin deliverin' some timber in rafts."

"Where are you from?'

"Bad Ax, Wisconsin, a little ways from La Crosse."

It was Shorty's turn to start, and it flashed upon him just where he had
seen that squarish face. It was in an ambrotype that he carried in his
breastpocket. He almost choked on the merrythought of the chicken, but
recovered himself, and said quickly:

"I have heard o' the place. Lived there long?"

"Always, you might say. Father took me there as a child during the mine
excitement, growed up there, went into business, married, lost my wife,
and married again. We're now on what you might call our bridal tower. I
had to come down here on business, so I brung my wife along, and worked
it off on her as our bridal tower. Purty cute, don't you think?"

And he reached over and tried to squeeze his wife's hand, but she
repulsed it.

The bridegroom plied Shorty with questions as to the army for awhile
after they had finished eating, and then arose and remarked:

"I'm goin' into the smokin'-car for a smoke. Won't you come along with
me, soldier, and have a cigar?"

"No, thankee," answered Shorty. "I'd like to, awfully, but the doctor's
shut down on my smokin' till I git well."

As soon as he was well on his way the woman leaned forward and asked
Shorty in an earnest tone:

"Did you say that you belonged to the 200th Ind.?"

"Yes'm," said Shorty very meekly. "To Co. Q."

"The very same company," gasped the woman.

"Did you happen to know a Mr. Daniel Elliott in that company?"

"Very well, mum. Knowed him almost as well as if he was my own brother."

"What sort of a man was he?"

"Awful nice feller. I thought a heap of him. Thought more of him than
any other man in the company. A nicer man you never knowed. Didn't
drink, nor swear, nor play cards, nor chaw terbacker. Used to go to
church every Sunday. Chaplain thought a heap of him. Used to call him
his right bower\x97I mean his strong suit\x97I mean his two pair\x97ace high. No,
neither o' them's just the word the Chaplain used, but it was something
just as good, but more Bible-like."

"I'm so glad to hear it," murmured the woman.

"O, he was an ornament to the army," continued the unblushing Shorty,
who hadn't had a good opportunity to lie in all the weeks that the
Deacon had been with him, and wanted to exercise his old talent, to see
whether he had lost it. "And the handsomest man! There wasn't a finer-
looking man in the whole army. The Colonel used to get awfully jealous
o' him, because everybody that'd come into camp 'd mistake him for the
Colonel. He'd 'a' bin Colonel, too, if he'd only lived. But the poor
fellow broke his heart. He fell in love with a girl somewhere up
North\x97Pewter Hatchet, or some place like that. I never saw her, and
don't know nothin' about her, but I heard that the boys from her place
said that she was no match for him. She was only plain, ordinary-
lookin'."

"That wasn't true," said the woman, under her breath.

"All the same, Elliott was dead-stuck on her. Bimeby he heard some way
that some stay-at-home widower was settin' up to her, and she was
encouragin' him, and finally married him. When Elliott heard that he was
completely beside himself. He lost all appetite for everything but
whisky and the blood of widowers. Whenever he found a man who was a
widower he wanted to kill him. At Chickamauga, he'd pick out the men
that looked old enough to be widowers, and shoot at them, and no others.
In the last charge he got separated, and was by himself with a tall
rebel with a gray beard. 'I surrender,' said the rebel. 'Are you a
widower?' asked Elliott. 'I'm sorry to say that my wife's dead,' said
the rebel. 'Then you can't surrender. I'm goin' to kill you,' said
Elliott. But he'd bin throwed off his guard by too much talkin'. The
rebel got the drop on him, and killed him."

"It ain't true that his girl went back on him before she heard he was
killed," said the woman angrily, forgetting herself. "She only married
after the report of his death in the papers."

"Jerusha," said Shorty, pulling out the letters and picture, rising to
his feet, and assuming as well as he could in the rocking car the pose
and manner of the indignant lovers he had seen in melodramas, "I'm Dan
Elliott, and your own true love, whose heart you've broke. When I
learned of your faithlessness I sought death, but death went back on me.
I've come back from the grave to reproach you. You preferred the love of
a second-hand husband, with a silver watch-chain and a raft o' logs, to
that of an honest soldier who had no fortune but his patriotic heart and
his Springfield rifle. But I'll not be cruel to you. There are the
evidences of your faithlessness, that you was so anxious to git hold of.
Your secret's safe in this true heart. Take 'em and be happy with your
bridge-timber contractor. Be a lovin' wife to your warmed-over husband.
Be proud of his speculations on the needs o' his country. As for me,
I'll go agin to seek a soldier's grave, for I cannot forgit you."

As he handed her the letters and picture he was dismayed to notice that
the piece of Maria's dress was mixed in with them. He snatched it away,
shoved it back in his pocket, pulled his hat down over his eyes, and,
with a melodramatic air, rushed forward into the smoking-car, where he
seated himself and at once fell asleep.

He was awakened in the morning at Jeffersonville, by the provost-guard
shaking him and demanding his pass.



CHAPTER IX. SHORTY IN TROUBLE HAS AN ENCOUNTER WITH THE PROVOST-MARSHAL.

"I AINT got no pass," said Shorty, in response to the demand of the
Provost-Guard. "Bin home on sick-furlough. Goin' back to the front now.
Left my papers at home. Forgot 'em."

"Heard all about lost and missing papers before," said the Sergeant
drily. "Fall in there, under guard." And he motioned Shorty to join the
gang of stragglers and runaways which had already been gathered up.

"Look here. Sergeant," remonstrated Shorty, "I don't belong in that pack
o' shell-fever invalids, and I won't fall in with 'em. There's no yaller
or cotton in me. I'm straight goods, all wool, and indigodyed. I've bin
promoted Corpril in my company for good conduct at Chickamauga. I'm
goin' back to my regiment o' my own accord, before my time's up, and I
propose to go my own way. I won't go under guard."

"You'll have to, if you can't show a pass," said the Sergeant
decisively. "If you're a soldier you know what orders are. Our orders
are to arrest every man that can't show a pass, and bring him up to
Provost Headquarters. Fall in there without any more words."

"I tell you I'm not goin' back to the regiment under guard," said Shorty
resolutely. "I've no business to go back at all, now. My furlough ain't
up for two weeks more. I'm goin' back now of my own free will, and in my
own way. Go along with your old guard, and pick up them deadbeats and
sneaks, that don't want to go back at all. You'll have plenty o' work
with them, without pesterin' me."

"And I tell you you must go," said the Sergeant, irritably, and turning
away, as if to end the discussion. "Williams, you and Young bring him
along."

"I'll not go a step under guard, and you can't make me," answered Shorty
furiously, snatching up the heavy poker from the stove. "You lunkheaded,
feather-bed soldiers jest keep your distance, if you know what's good
for you. I didn't come back here from the front to be monkeyed with by a
passel o' fellers that wear white gloves and dresscoats, and eat soft
bread. Go off, and 'tend your own bizniss, and I'll 'tend to mine."

The Sergeant turned back and looked at him attentively.

"See here," he said, after a moment's pause.

"Don't you belong to the 200th Ind.?"

"You bet I do. Best regiment in the Army o' the Cumberland."

"You're the feller they call Shorty, of Co. Q?"

Shorty nodded assent.

"I thought I'd seen you somewhere, the moment I laid eyes on you," said
the Sergeant in a friendly tone. "But I couldn't place you. You've
changed a good deal. You're thinner'n a fishing-rod."

"Never had no meat to spare," acquiesced Shorty, "but I'm an Alderman
now to what I was six weeks ago. Got a welt on my head at Chickamaugy,
and then the camp fever at Chattanoogy, which run me down till I
could've crawled through a greased flute."

"Well, I'm Jim Elkins. Used to belong to Co. A," replied the Sergeant.
"I recollect your stealing the caboose door down there at Murfreesboro.
Say, that was great. How that conductor ripped and swore when he found
his door was gone. I got an ax from you. You never knew who took it, did
you? Well, it was me. I wanted the ax, but I wanted still more to show
you that there was somebody in the camp just as slick on the forage as
you were. But I got paid for it. The blamed old ax glanced one day,
while I was chopping, and whacked me on the knee."

"A thief always gits fetched up with," said Shorty, in a tone of
profound moralizing. "But since it had to go I'm glad one o' our own
boys got it. I snatched another and a better one that night from the
Ohio boys. I'm awful sorry you got hurt. Was it bad?"

"Yes. The doctors thought I'd lose my leg, and discharged me. But I got
well, and as soon as they'd take me I re-enlisted. Wish I was back in
the old regiment, though. Say, you'll have to go to Headquarters with
me, because that's orders, but you just walk alongside o' me. I want to
talk to you about the boys."

As they walked along, the Sergeant found an opportunity to say in low
tone, so that the rest could not hear:

"Old Billings, who used to be Lieutenant-Colonel, is Provost-Marshal.
He's Lieutenant-Colonel of our regiment. He'll be likely to give you a
great song and dance, especially if he finds out that you belonged to
the old regiment. But don't let it sink too deep on you. I'll stand by
you, if there's anything I can do."

"Much obliged," said Shorty, "but I'm all right, and I oughtn't to need
any standing by from anybody. That old fly-up-the-crick ought to be
ashamed to even speak to a man who's bin fightin' at the front, while he
was playin' off around home."

"He'll have plenty to say all the same," returned the Sergeant. "He's
got one o' these self-acting mouths, with a perpetual-motion attachment.
He don't do anything but talk, and mostly bad. Blame him, it's his fault
that we're kept here, instead of being sent to the front, as we ought to
be. Wish somebody'd shoot him."

The Provost-Marshal was found in his office, dealing out sentences like
a shoulder-strapped Rhadamanthes. It was a place that just suited
Billings's tastes. There he could bully to his heart's content, with no
chance for his victims getting back at him, and could make it very
uncomfortable for those who were disposed to sneer at his military
career. With a scowl on his brow, and a big chew of tobacco in his
mouth, he sat in his chair, and disposed of the cases brought before him
with abusive comments, and in the ways that he thought would give the
men the most pain and trouble. It was a manifestation of his power that
he gloated over.

"Take the position of soldiers, you slouching clodhoppers," he said,
with an assortment of oaths, as the squad entered the office. "One'd
think you a passel o' hawbucks half-drunk at a log-rollin', instead o'
soldiers in the presence o' your superior officer. Shut them gapin'
mouths, lift up them shock-heads, button up your blouses, put your hands
down to your sides, and don't no man speak to me without salootin'. And
mind what you say, or I'll give you a spell on bread and water, and send
you back in irons. I want you to understand that I'll have no
foolishness. You can't monkey with me as you can with some officers.

"Had your pocket picked, and your furlough as well as your money taken,"
he sneered to the first statement. "You expect me to believe that, you
sickly-faced yallerhammer. I'll just give you five days' hard labor
before sending you back, for lying to me. Go over there to the left, and
take your place in that police squad."

"No," he said to the second, "that sick mother racket won't work. Every
man we ketch now skulking home is goin' to see his sick and dying
mother. There wouldn't be no army if we allowed every man who has a sick
mother to go and visit her. None o' your back talk, or I'll put the
irons on you."

"No," to a third, "you can't go back to your boarding place for your
things, not even with a guard. I know you. You'd give the guard the slip
before you went 10 rods. Let your things go. Probably you stole 'em,
anyway."

Lieut.-Col. Billings's eye lighted on Shorty, with an expression of
having seen him somewhere.

"Where do you belong?" he asked crossly.

"Co. Q, 200th Injianny Volunteer Infantry," replied Shorty proudly.

"Yes. I remember you now," said the Provost-Marshal savagely. "You're
one o' them infernal nigger-thieves that brung disgrace on the regiment.
You're one o' them that made it so notorious that decent men who had a
respect for other people's property was glad to get out of it."

"You're a liar," said Shorty hotly. "You didn't git out o' the regiment
because it stole niggers. That's only a pretend. The rear is full o'
fellers like you who pretend to be sore on the nigger question, as an
excuse for not going to the front. You sneaked out o' every fight the
regiment went into. You got out of the regiment because it was too fond
of doin' its duty."

"Shut up, you scoundrel! Buck-and-gag him, men," roared Billings, rising
and shaking his fist at him.

"Stop that! You musn't talk that way," said the Sergeant, going over to
Shorty, and shaking him roughly, while he whispered, "Don't make a
blamed fool o' yourself. Keep quiet."

"I won't stop," said Shorty angrily; "I won't let no man talk that way
about the 200th Ind., no matter if he wears as many leaves on his
shoulders as there is on a beech tree. I'd tell the Major-General that
he lied if he slandered the regiment, if I died for it the next minute."

"I order you to take him out and buck-and-gag him," shouted the Provost-
Marshal.

The Sergeant caught Shorty by the shoulder, and pushed him out of the
room, with much apparent roughness, but really using no more force than
would make a show, while muttering his adjurations to cool down.

"I s'pose I've got to obey orders, and buck-and-gag you," said the
Sergeant ruefully, as they were alone together in the room. "It goes
against my grain, like the toothache. I'd rather you'd buck-and-gag me.
But you are to blame for it yourself. You ought to have more sense than
lay it into a Lieutenant-Colonel and Provost-Marshal that way. But you
did give it to him fine, the old blow-hard and whisky-sucker. He's no
more fit for shoulderstraps than a hog is for a paper-collar. Haven't
heard anything for a long time that tickled me so, even while I was mad
enough to pound you for having no more sense. I've bin aching to talk
that way to him myself."

"Go ahead and obey your orders," said Shorty. "Don't mind me. I'm
willin' to take it. I've had my say, which was worth a whole week o'
buckin'. It 'll be something to tell the boys when I git back, that I
saw old Billings swellin' around, and told him right before his own men
just what we think of him. Lord, how it 'll tickle 'em. I'll forgit all
about the buckin', but they won't forgit that."

"Blamed if I'll do it," said the Sergeant. "He can take off my stripes,
and be blest to him. You said just what I think, and what we all think,
and I ought to stand by you. I've a notion to go right back in the room
and tell him I won't do it, and pull off my stripes and hand 'em to him,
and tell him to take 'em and go to Halifax."

"Now, don't be a fool, Jim," remonstrated Shorty. "You won't help me,
and you'll git yourself into trouble. Somebody's got to do it, and I'd
rather it'd be you than somebody else. Go ahead and obey your orders.
Git your rope and your stick and your bayonet."

"They're all here," said the Sergeant, producing them, with a regretful
air. "We've plenty of use for them as long as old Billings is on deck.
Say," said he, stopping, as a brighter look came into his face, "I've
got an idea."

"Hold on to it till you kin mark its ears, so's you'll know it again for
your property," said Shorty sarcastically. "Good idees are skeerce and
valuable."

"Jeff Wilson, the General's Chief Clerk, who belongs to my company,"
said the Sergeant, "told me yesterday that they wanted another Orderly,
and to pick out one for him. I'll send a note for him to detail you
right off."

He hastily scratched off the following note on a piece of wrapping
paper, folded it up, and sent secretly one of his boys on a run with it:

"Dear Jeff: Found you a first-class Orderly. It's Shorty, of my old
regiment. He's in Billings's clutches, and in trouble. Send down a
detail at once for Shorty Elliott, Co. Q, 200th Ind. Rush. Yours, Jim."

"Here, Sergeant," called out the Provost-Marshal from the other room,
"what are you fooling around in there so long for?"

"Somebody's been monkeying with my things," called back the Sergeant.
"If they don't let 'em alone I'll scalp somebody."

"Well, get through, and come out here, for there's some more work for
you. Make a good job with that scoundrel. I'll be in presently and see
it."

Shorty squatted down, and the Sergeant made as easy going an imitation
as he could of the punishment.

The messenger encountered the young General near by, limping along on a
conscientious morning inspection of things about his post. He had been
but recently assigned to the position, to employ him while he was
getting well of his wound received at Chickamauga, and was making a
characteristic effort to know all about his command. He had sent his
staff on various errands, but had his Chief Clerk with him to make
notes.

"What's that?" he inquired, as the messenger handed the latter the note.

"Just a note from the Sergeant of the Guard about an Orderly," answered
the clerk.

"Let me see it," said the General, who had an inveterate disposition for
looking into the smallest details. "What's this? One of the 200th Ind.?
Why, that was in my brigade. The 200th Ind. was cut all to pieces, but
it stuck to that Snodgrass Hill tighter than a real-estate mortgage. One
of the boys in trouble? We'll just go over to the Provost-Marshal's and
see about him. It may be that I know him."

The sharp call of the Sergeant on duty outside to "Turn out the Guard
for the General," the clatter of muskets, as he was obeyed, the sudden
stiffening up of the men lounging about the entrance into the position
of the soldier, and their respectful salutes as the General limped in,
conveyed to Lieut.-Col. Billings intelligence as to his visitor, and his
whole demeanor changed to one of obsequious welcome.

"Very unexpected, General, but very kind in you to visit me," he said,
bowing, and washing his hands with invisible soap.

"No kindness at all. Colonel," said the General with official curtness.
"Merely my duty, to personally acquaint myself with all portions of my
command. I should have visited you before. By the way, I understand you
have picked up here a man belonging to my brigade\x97to the 200th Ind.
Where is he?"

Billings's face clouded.

"Yes, we have a man who claimed to belong to that regiment\x97a straggler,
who hadn't any papers to show. I had no idea whether he was telling the
truth. He was outrageously sassy, and I had to give him a lesson to keep
a civil tongue in his head. Take a seat. I'll send for him."

"No; I'll go and see him," said the General. "Where is he?"

With a foreboding that the scene was going to be made unpleasant for
him, Billings led the General into the guard-room.

Why, It's Shorty! Said the General, Recognizing Him At Once 129

"Why, it's Shorty," said the General, recognizing him at once, "who ran
back at Stone River, in a heavy fire, and helped me from under my
horse."

Shorty winked and nodded affirmatively.

"What was the matter, Colonel?" inquired the General.

"Well," said Billings, defensively, "the feller is a straggler, without
papers to show where he belonged, and he was very sassy to me\x97called me
a liar, and said other mean things, right before my men, and I had to
order him bucked-and-gagged to shut him up."

"Strange," said General; "I always found him very respectful and
obedient. I thought I hadn't a better soldier in my brigade."

Shorty winked appreciatively at Serg't Elkins.

"Take out the gag, let him up, and let me hear what he has to say," said
the General.

Shorty was undone and helped to his feet, when he respectfully saluted.
His weakness was so apparent that the General ordered him to sit down,
and then asked him questions which brought out his story. "You were
promoted Corporal, if I recollect," said he, "for gallantry in capturing
one of the rebel flags taken by my brigade."

"Yes, sir," answered Shorty.

Billings was feeling very uncomfortable.

"He called me a liar, and a stay-at-home sneak, and other insultin'
things," protested he.

"General, he slandered the 200 Ind., which I won't allow no man to do,
no matter what he has on his shoulders. I told him that he'd bin fired
out o' the regiment, and was a-bummin' in the rear, and hadn't no
business abusin' men who was doin' and respectful."

"Hum\x97very insubordinate, very unsoldierly," said the General. "Very
unlike you. Corporal. I'm surprised at you. You were always very
obedient and respectful."

"Always to real officers," said Shorty; "but\x97"

"Silence," said the General, sternly. "Don't aggravate the offense. You
were properly punished."

"I ain't kickin' about it," said Shorty stubbornly. "I've got the worth
of it."

"I think," continued the General, after having properly vindicated
discipline, "that that blow you received on your head may affect your
brain at times, and make you unduly irritable. I think I'll have the
Surgeon examine you. Put him in an ambulance, Wilson, and take him over
to the Surgeon. Then bring him to Headquarters with the report."

Turning to the Lieutenant-Colonel the General said:

"I had another object in visiting you this morning. Colonel. I've got
some good news for you. I've found your officers and men very weary of
their long tour of provost duty here, and anxious to go to the front. Of
course, I know that you feel the same way."

Billings tried to look as if he did, but the attempt was not a success.

"I have represented to Headquarters, therefore," continued the General,
"that it would be to the advantage of the service to have this fine full
regiment sent to the front, and its place taken by one that has been run
down by hard service, and so get a chance for it to rest and recruit.
The General has accepted my views, and orders me to have you get ready
to move at once."

"I have tried to do my dooty here, and I thought," murmured Billings,
"that it was to the advantage of the Government to have as Provost-
Marshal a man who knowed all these fellers and their tricks. It'd take a
new man a long time to learn 'em."

"I appreciate that," said the General. "But it's not just to you or your
men to make you do so much of this work. I'm expecting every minute
notice of a regiment being sent to relieve yours, and therefore you will
be ready to start as soon as it arrives. Good morning, sir."

The only relief that Billings could find to his feelings after the
General's departure was to kick one of the men's dog out of his office
with a great deal of vindictiveness.



CHAPTER X. SHORTY AS ORDERLY HAS A TOUR OF DUTY AT THE GENERAL'S
HEADQUARTERS.

"WELL," said the General, after he had listened to Shorty's story, and
questioned him a little, "you are all right now. I'll take care of you.
The Surgeon says that you are not fit to go back to the front, and will
not be for some time. They have got more sick and convalescents down
there now than they can take good care of. The army's gone into Winter
quarters, and will probably stay there until Spring opens, so that they
don't need either of us. I'll detail you as Orderly at these
Headquarters, and you can go back with me when I do."

"I s'pose that's all right and satisfactory," said Shorty, saluting.
"It's got to be, anyway. In the army a man with a star on his shoulder's
got the last say, and kin move the previous question whenever he wants
to. I never had no hankerin' for a job around Headquarters, and now that
I'm a Korpril I ought to be with my company. But they need you worse'n
they do me, and I've noticed that you was always as near the front as
anybody, so I don't think I'll lose no chances by stayin' with you."

"I promise you that we shall both go as soon as there's any prospect of
something worth going for," said the General, smiling. "Report there to
Wilson. He will instruct you as to your duties."

Wilson's first instructions were as to Shorty's personal appearance. He
must get a clean shave and a hair-cut, a necktie, box of paper collars,
a pair of white gloves, have blouse neatly brushed and buttoned to his
throat and his shoes polished.

"Dress parade every day?" asked Shorty, despairingly.

"Just the same as dress parade every day," answered the Chief Clerk.
"Don't want any scarecrows around these Headquarters. We're on dress
parade all the time before the people and other soldiers, and must show
them how soldiers ought to appear. You'll find a barber-shop and a
bootblack around the corner. Make for them at once, and get yourself in
shape to represent Headquarters properly."

"Don't know but I'd ruther go to the front and dig rifle-pits than to
wear paper collars and white gloves every day in the week," soliloquized
Shorty, as he walked out on the street. "Don't mind 'em on Sunday, when
you kin take 'em off agin when the company's dismissed from parade; but
to put 'em on in the mornin' when you git up, and wear 'em till you go
to bed at night\x97O, Jehosephat! Don't think I've got the constitution to
stand that sort o' thing. But it's orders, and I'll do it, even if it
gives me softenin' o' the brain. Here, you\x97(beckoning to a bootblack),
put a 250-pounder Monitor coat o' polish on them Tennessee River
gunboats. Fall in promptly, now."

The little darky gave an estimating glance at the capacious cowhides,
which had not had a touch of the brush since being drawn from the
Quarter master, and then yelled to a companion on the other side of the
street:

"Hey, Taters, come lend me a spit. I'se got a' army contrack."

"Vhat golor off a gravat do you vant?" asked the Jewish vender of
haberdashery, who was rapidly amassing a fortune from the soldiers.
"Dere's plack, red, kreen, plue\x97all lofely golors, unt de vinest kint
off silk. Yoost de same as Cheneral Krant vears. He puys lods off me.
Von't puy off nopody else vhen he gan ket to me. Now, dere's vun dat'll
yoost suit your light gomplexion. You gan vear dat on St. Batrick's
day."

And he picked out one of bright green that would have made Shorty's
throat seem in wild revolt against his hair.

"Well, I don't know," said Shorty meditatively, pulling over the lot.
Then a thought struck him. Taking out the bit of Maria's dress, he said:

"Give me something as near as possible the color of that."

"Veil, I've kot rid off datt off-golored negdie, dat I fought I nefer
vould sell," meditated the Jew, as Shorty left. "I'm ahet yoost a
tollar-unt-a-haluf on aggount off dat vild Irishman's kirl. Veil, de
kirls ket some fellers into sgrapes, unt helps udders oud."

With this philosophical observation the Jew resumed his pleasant work of
marking up his prices to better accord with his enlarged views as to the
profits he could get off the soldiers.

When Shorty returned to Headquarters, neatly shaven and brushed, and
took the position of a soldier before the Chief Clerk, that functionary
remarked approvingly:

"Very good, very good, indeed. You'll be an ornament to Headquarters."

And the General, entering the room at that time, added:

"Yes, you are as fine a looking soldier as one would wish to see, and an
examaple to others. But you have not your Corporal's chevrons on. Allow
me to present you with a pair. It gives me pleasure, for you have well
earned them."

Stepping back into his office he returned with the chevrons in his hand.

"There, find a tailor outside somewhere to sew them on. You are now a
non-commissioned officer on my staff, and I expect you to do all you can
to maintain its character and dignity."

Shorty's face flushed with pride as he saluted, and thought, without
saying:

"You jest bet I will. Any loafer that don't pay proper respect to this
here staff'll git his blamed neck broke."

"Here," said the Chief Clerk, handing Shorty an official envelope, when
the latter returned from having his chevrons sewed on. "Take this down
to Col. Billings. Mind you do it in proper style. Don't get to sassing
old Billings. Stick the envelope in your belt, walk into the office,
take the position of a soldier, salute, and hand him the envelope,
saying, 'With the compliments of the General,' salute again, about-face,
and walk out."

"I'll want to punch his rotten old head off the minute I set eyes on
him," remarked Shorty, sotto voce; "but the character and dignity of the
staff must be maintained."

Lieut.-Col. Billings started, and his face flushed, when he saw Shorty
stalk in, severely erect and soldierly. Billings was too little of a
soldier to comprehend the situation. His first thought was that Shorty,
having been taken under the General's wing, had come back to triumph
over him, and he prepared himself with a volley of abuse to meet that of
his visitor. But Shorty, with stern eyes straight to the front, marched
up to him, saluted in one-two-three time, drew the envelope from his
belt, and thrusting it at him as he would his gun to the inspecting
officer on parade, announced in curtly official tones, "With General's
compliments, sir," saluted again, about-faced as if touched with a
spring, and marched stiffly toward the door.

Billings hurriedly glanced at the papers, and saw that instead of some
unpleasant order from the General, which he had feared, they were merely
some routine matters. His bullying instinct at once reasserted itself:

"Puttin' on a lot o' scollops, since, just because you're detailed at
Headquarters," he called out after Shorty. "More style than a blue-
ribbon horse at a county fair, just because the General took a little
notice of you. But you'll not last long. I know you."

"Sir," said Shorty, facing about and stiffly saluting, "if you've got
any message for the General, I'll deliver it. If you hain't, keep your
head shet."

"O, go on; go on, now, you two-for-a-cent Corporal. Don't you give me
any more o' your slack, or I'll report you for your impudence, and have
them stripes jerked offen you."

'what Do You Think of That?' Said the Gambler. 141

Hot words sprang to Shorty's lips, but he remembered the General's
injunction about the character and dignity of the staff, and restrained
himself to merely saying:

"Col. Billings, some day I won't belong to the staff, and you won't have
no shoulder-straps. Then I'll invite you to a little discussion, without
no moderator in the chair."

"Go on, now. Don't you dare threaten me," shouted Billings.

"How'd you get along with Billings?" inquired the Chief Clerk, when
Shorty returned.

"About as well as the monkey and the parrot did," answered Shorty, and
he described the interview, ending with:

"I never saw a man who was achin' for a good lickin' like that old
bluffer. And he'll git it jest as soon as he's out o' the service, if I
have to walk a hundred miles to give it to him."

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait a good while," answered Wilson. "He'll
stay in the service as long as he can keep a good soft berth like this.
He's now bombarding everybody that's got any influence with telegrams to
use it to keep him here in the public interest. He claims that on
account of his familiarity with things here he is much more valuable to
the Government here than he would be in the field."

"No doubt o' that," said Shorty. "He ain't worth a groan in the infernal
regions at the front. He only takes the place and eats the rations of
some man that might be of value."

"See here," said Wilson, pointing to a pile of letters and telegrams on
his desk. "These are protests against Billings being superseded and sent
away. More are coming in all the time. They are worrying the General
like everything, for he wants to do the right thing. But I know that
they all come from a ring of fellows around here who sell whisky and
slop-shop goods to the soldiers, and skin them alive, and are protected
by Billings. They're whacking up with him, and they want him to stay.
I'm sure of it, but I haven't any proof, and there's no use saying
anything to the General unless I've got the proof to back it."

"Wonder if I couldn't help git the proof," suggested Shorty, with his
sleuth instincts reviving.

"Just the man," said the Chief Clerk eagerly, "if you go about it right.
You're a stranger here, and scarcely anybody knows that you belong to
Headquarters. Get yourself back in the shape you were this morning, and
go out and try your luck. It'll just be bully if we can down this old
blowhard."

Shorty took off his belt and white gloves, unbuttoned his blouse, and
lounged down the street to the quarter where the soldiers most
congregated to be fleeced by the harpies gathered there as the best
place to catch men going to or returning from the front. Shorty soon
recognized running evil-looking shops, various kinds of games and
drinking dens several men who had infested the camps about Nashville and
Murfreesboro until the Provost-Marshal had driven them away.

"Billings has gathered all his old friends about him," said he to
himself. "I guess I'll find somebody here that I kin use."

"Hello, Injianny; what are you doin' here?" inquired a man in civilian
clothes, but unmistakably a gambler.

Shorty remembered him at once as the man with whom he had had the
adventure with the loaded dice at Murfreesboro. With the fraternity of
the class, neither remembered that little misadventure against the
other. They had matched their wits for a wrestle, and when the grapple
was over it was over.

Shorty therefore replied pleasantly:

"O, jest loafin' back here, gittin' well o' a crack on the head and the
camp fever."

"Into anything to put in the time?"

"Naah," said Shorty weariedly. "Nearly dead for something. Awful stoopid
layin' around up there among them hayseeds, doin' nothin'. Jest run down
to Jeffersonville to see if I couldn't strike something that'd some life
in it."

"Well, I kin let you into a good thing. I've bin runnin' that shebang
over there, with another man, and doin' well, but he let his temper git
away with him, and shpped a knife into a sucker, and they've got him in
jail, where he'll stay awhile. I must have another partner. Got any
money?"

"A hundred or so," answered Shorty.

"Well, that's enough. I don't want money so much as the right kind of a
man. Put up your stuff, and I'll let you in cahoots with me, and we'll
make a bar'l o' money out o' these new troops that'll begin coming down
this week."

"I like the idee. But how do you know you kin run your game. This
Provost-Marshall\x97"

"O, the Provost's all right. He's an old friend o' mine. I have him dead
to rights. Only whack up fair with him, and you're all right. Only
pinches them that want to hog on him and won't share. I've bin runnin'
right along here for weeks, and 've had no trouble. I give up my little
divvy whenever he asks for it."

"If I was only certain o' that," said Shorty meditatively, "I'd\x97"

"Certain? Come right over here to that ranch, and have a drink, and I'll
show you, so's you can't be mistaken. I tell you, I'm solid as a rock
with him."

When seated at a quiet table, with their glasses in front of them, the
gambler pulled some papers from his breast pocket, and selecting one
shoved it at Shorty with the inquiry: "There, what do you think o'
that?"

Shorty read over laboriously:

"Deer Bat: Send me 50 please. I set behind two small pair last night,
while the other feller had a full, & Ime strapt this morning. Yores,

"Billings."

"That seems convincing," said Shorty.

"Then look at this," said the gambler, producing another paper. It read:

"Deer Bat: Got yore $100 all right, but doant send by that man again.
He's shaky, and talks too much. Bring it yourself, or put it in an
envelope directed to me, & drop it in my box. Yores,

"Billings."

"That's enough," said Shorty, with his mind in a tumult, as to how he
was to get these papers into his possession. "I'll go in with you, if
you'll take me. Here's my fist."

He reached out and shook hands with Bat Meacham over the bargain, and
called to the waiter, "Here, fill 'em up agin."

Shorty pulled some papers out of his pocket to search for his money, and
fumbled them over. There were two pieces among them resembling the
scraps on which Billings had written his notes. They contained some army
doggerel which the poet of Co. Q had written and Shorty was carrying
about as literary treasures.

The waiter wiped off the table as he replaced the glasses, and Shorty
lifted up the gambler's papers to permit him to do so. He laid down his
own papers instead, and with them a $10 bill.

"There," he said; "I find that's all the money I have with me, but it's
enough to bind the bargain. I left a couple hundred with the clerk at
the tavern. I'll go right up and git it, and we'll settle the thing
right here."

"Very good," replied Bat Meacham; "git back as quick as you kin. You'll
find me either here or hangin' around near. Let's fix the thing up and
git ready. I think a new regiment'll be down here tomorrow, and all the
men'll have their first installment o' bounty and a month's pay."

Shorty hurried back to Headquarters and laid his precious papers before
the Chief Clerk, who could not contain his exultation.

"Won't there be a tornado when the General sees these in the morning,"
he exclaimed. "He's gone out to camp, now, or I'd take them right to
him. But he shall have them first thing in the morning."

The next morning Shorty waited with eager impatience while the General
was closeted with his Chief Clerk. Presently the General stepped to the
door and said sternly:

"Corporal."

"Yes, sir," said Shorty, springing to his feet and saluting.

"Go down at once to the Provost-Marshal's office and tell Col. Billings
to come to Headquarters at once. To come at once, without a moment's
delay."

"Yes, sir," said Shorty saluting, with a furtive wink at the Chief
Clerk, which said as plainly as words, "No presenting compliments this
time."

He found Billings, all unconscious of the impending storm, dealing out
wrath on those who were hauled before him.

"Col. Billings," said Shorty, standing stiff as a ramrod and curtly
saluting, "the General wants you to come to Headquarters at once."

"Very well," replied Billings; "report to the General that I'll come as
soon as I dispose of this business."

"That'll not do," said Shorty with stern imperiousness. "The General
orders (with a gloating emphasis on 'orders') you to drop everything
else, and come instantly. You're to go right back with me."

Shorty enjoyed the manifest consternation in Billings's face as he heard
this summons. The men of the office pricked up their ears, and looked
meaningly at one another. Shorty saw it all, and stood as straight and
stern as if about to lead Billings to execution.

Billings, with scowling face, picked up his hat, buttoned his coat, and
walked out.

"Do you know what the General wants with me. Shorty?" he asked in a
conciliatory way, when they were alone together on the sidewalk.

"My name's Corporal Elliott. You will address me as such," answered
Shorty.

"Go to the devil," said Billings.

Billings tried to assume a cheerfully-genial air as he entered the
General's office, but the grin faded at the sight of the General's stern
countenance.

"Col. Billings," said the General, handing him the two pieces of paper,
"do you recognize these?"

"Can't say that I do," answered Billings, pretending to examine them
while he could recover his wits sufficiently for a fine of defense.

"Don't attempt to lie to me," said the General wrathfully, "or I'll
forget myself sufficiently to tear the straps from your disgraced
shoulders. I have compared these with other specimens of your
handwriting, until I have no doubt. I have sent for you not to hear your
defense, or to listen to any words from you. I want you to merely sit
down there and sign this resignation, and then get out of my office as
quickly as you can. I don't want to breathe the same air with you. I
ought to courtmartial you, and set you to hard work on the
fortifications, but I hate the scandal. I have already telegraphed to
Army Headquarters to accept your resignation by wire, and I shall send
it by telegraph.

"I cannot get you out of the army too quickly. Sign this, and leave my
office, and take off your person every sign of your connection with the
army. I shall give orders that if you appear on the street with so much
as a military button on, it shall be torn off you."

As the crushed Lieutenant-Colonel was leaving the office, Shorty lounged
up, and said:

"See here. Mister Billings\x97you're Mister Billings now, and a mighty
ornery Mister, too, I'm going to lay for you, and settle several little
p'ints with you. You've bin breedin' a busted head, and I'm detailed to
give it to you. Git out, you hound."



CHAPTER XI. SHORTY RUNS HEADQUARTERS GETS ENTIRELY TOO BIG FOR HIS
PLACE.

THE disturbance in the Deacon's family when Shorty's note was delivered
by little Sammy Woggles quite came up to that romance-loving youth's
fond anticipations. If he could only hope that his own disappearance
would create a fraction of the sensation he would have run away the next
day. It would be such a glorious retribution on those who subjected him
to the daily tyranny of rising early in the morning, washing his face,
combing his hair, and going to school. For the first time in his life
the boy found himself the center of interest in the family. He knew
something that all the rest were intensely eager to know, and they plied
him with questions until his young brain whirled. He told them all that
he knew, except that which Shorty had enjoined upon him not to tell, and
repeated his story without variation when separately examined by
different members of the family. All his leisure for the next few days
was put in laboriously constructing, on large sheets of foolscap, the
following letter, in which the thumb-marks and blots were more
conspicuous than the "pot-hook" letters:

dEER shoRty:

doNt 4git thAt REblE guN u promist mE.

thAir wAs An oRful time wheN i giv um yorE lEttEr.

missis klEgg shE cride.

mAriAr shE sEd did u EvEr No Ennything so Ridiklus.

si hE sed thAt shorty kood be morE Kinds ov fool in A minnit thAn Ary
uthEr boy hE Ever node, Not bArrin Tompsons colt.

thE deAcon hE wAntid 2 go 2 the tranE & stop u. When hE found hE
kooddEnt do that, hE wAntid 2 tElEgrAf 2 Arrest u & bring u bAk.

But si hE sEd bEttEr let u run till u got tirEd. Ude fEtch up sum whAir
soon. Then thEy wood sHp a bridlE ovEr yore hEAd & brink u bAk.

i hAint told mAriA nothin but u hAd bEtEr sEnd thAt gun rite off.

ile look 4 it EvEry dAy til i git it.

mi pen iz bAd, mi ink iz pAle, send thAt gun & NEVEr f ALE.

YorEs, SAM.

As soon as he saw that he was likely to remain at Headquarters for some
time. Shorty became anxious about that letter from Sammy, and after much
scheming and planning, he at last bethought himself of the expedient of
having the Chief Clerk write an official letter to Sam Elkins, the
postmaster and operator at Bean Blossom Creek Station, directing him to
forward to Headquarters any communications addressed to Corp'l Elliott,
200th Ind. Vols., and keep this matter a military secret.

In spite of his prepossessions against it, Shorty took naturally to
Headquarters duty, as he did to everything else in the army. He even
took a pride in his personal appearance, and appeared every morning as
spick and span as the barber-shop around the corner could make him. This
was because the General saw and approved it, and\x97because of the
influence Maria had projected into his life. The Deacon's well-ordered
home had been a revelation to him of another world, of which he wanted
to be a part. The gentle quiet and the constant consideration for others
that reigned there smoothed off his rough corners and checked the
rasping of his ready tongue.

"I'm goin' to try to be half-white," he mentally resolved; "at least, as
long's I'm north o' the Ohio River. When I'm back agin at the front, I
kin take a rest from being respectable."

He was alert, prompt, and observant, and before he was himself aware of
it began running things about the ante-rooms to Headquarters. More and
more the General and Chief Clerk kept putting the entire disposal of
certain matters in his hands, and it was not surprising that he acted at
times as if he were the Headquarters himself, and the General and others
merely attaches. Shorty always had that way about him.

"No, you can't see the General today," he would say to a man as to whom
he had heard the General or the Chief Clerk hint was a bore, and wasted
their time. "The General's very busy. The President's layin' down on him
for his advice about a campaign to take Richmond by a new way, and the
General's got to think at the rate of a mile a minute in order to git it
off by telegraph."

Don't You Know Better Than to Come To Headquarters Like That? 156

"Here," to a couple of soldiers who came up to get their furloughs
extended, "don't you know better than to come to Headquarters looking as
if your clothes had been blowed on to you? How long've you bin in the
army? Hain't you learned yit that you must come to Headquarters in full
dress? Go back and git your shoes blacked, put on collars, button up
your coats, and come up here lookin' like soldiers, not teamsters on the
Tullyhomy mud march."

"No," very decisively, to a big-waisted, dark-bearded man; "you can't
git no permit here to open no shebang in camp or anywheres near. Too
many like you out there now. We're goin' to root 'em all out soon.
They're all sellin' whisky on the sly, and every last one of 'em orter
be in jail."

"Certainly, madam," tenderly to a poor woman who had come to see if she
could learn something of her son, last heard from as sick in hospital at
Chattanooga. "Sit down. Take that chair\x97no, that one; it's more
comfortable. Give me your son's name and regiment. I'll see if we kin
find out anything about him. No use seein' the General. I'll do jest as
well, and 'll tend to it quicker."

"No," to a raw Captain, who strolled in, smoking a cheap cheroot. "The
General's not in to an officer who comes in here like as if Headquarters
was a ward caucus. He'll be in to you when you put on your sword and
button up your coat."

It amused and pleased the General to see Shorty take into his hands the
administration of military etiquette; but one day, when he was
accompanying the General on a tour of inspection, and walking stiffly at
the regulation distance behind, a soldier drunk enough to be ugly
lurched past, muttering some sneers about "big shoulder-straps."

Shorty instantly snatched him by the collar and straightened him up.

"Take the position of a soldier," he commanded.

The astonished man tried to obey.

"Throw your chest out," commanded Shorty, punching him in the ribs.
"Little fingers down to the seams of your pants," with a cuff at his
ears. "Put your heels together, and turn out your toes," kicking him on
the shin. "Hold up your head," jabbing him under the chin. "'Now
respectfully salute."

The cowed man clumsily obeyed.

"Now, take that to learn you how to behave after this in the presence of
a General officer," concluded Shorty, giving him a blow in the face that
sent him over.

The General had walked on, apparently without seeing what was going on.
But after they had passed out of the sight of the group which the affair
had gathered, he turned and said to Shorty:

"Corporal, discipline must be enforced in the army, but don't you think
you were a little too summary and condign with that man?"

"Hardly know what you mean by summary and condign. General, But if you
mean warm by summary, I'll say that he didn't git it half hot enough. If
I'd had my strength back I'd a' condigned his head off. But he got his
lesson jest when he needed it, and he'll be condigned sure to behave
decently hereafter."

Just then ex-Lieut.-Col. Billings came by. He was dressed in citizen's
clothes, and he glared at Shorty and the General, but there was
something in the latter's face and carriage which dominated him in spite
of himself, his camp associations asserted themselves, and instinctively
his hand went to his hat in a salute.

This was enough excuse for Shorty. He fell back until the General was
around the corner, out of sight, and then went up to Billings.

"Mister Billings," said he, sternly, "what was the General's orders
about wearin' anything military?"

"Outrageously tyrannical and despotic," answered Billings hotly. "But
jest what you might expect from these Abolition satraps, who're
throttlin' our liberties. A white man's no longer got any rights in this
country that these military upstarts is bound to respect. But I'm
obeyin' the order till I kin git an appeal from it."

"You're a liar. You're not," said Shorty, savagely.

"Why, what in the world have I got on that's military?" asked Billings,
looking himself over.

"You're wearin' a military saloot, which you have no business to. You've
got no right to show that you ever was in the army, or so much as seen a
regiment. You salooted the General jest now. Don't you ever let me see
you do it to him agin, or to no other officer. You musn't do nothin' but
take off your hat and bow. You hear me?"

Shorty was rubbing it in on his old tormentor in hopes to provoke him to
a fight. But the cowed man was too fearful of publicity just then. He
did not know what might be held in reserve to spring upon him. He
shambled away, muttering:

"O, go on! Grind down upon me. You'll be wantin' to send me to a Lincoln
bastile next. But a day will come when white men'll have their rights
agin."

Unfortunately for Shorty, however, he was having things too much his own
way. There were complaints that he was acting as if he owned
Headquarters.

Even the General noticed it, and would occasionally say in tones of
gentle remonstrance:

"See here, Corporal, you are carrying too big a load. Leave something
for the rest of us to do. We are getting bigger pay than you are, and
should have a chance to earn our money."

But Shorty would not take the hint. With his rapidly-returning strength
there had come what Si termed "one of his bull-headed spells," which
inevitably led to a cataclysm, unless it could be worked off
legitimately, as it usually was at the front by a toilsome march, a tour
of hard fatigue duty, or a battle or skirmish. But the routine of
Headquarters duties left him too much chance to get "fat and sassy."

One day the General and his staff had to go over to Louisville to attend
some great military function, and Shorty was left alone in charge of
Headquarters. There was nothing for him to do but hold a chair down, and
keep anybody from carrying off the Headquarters. This was a dangerous
condition, in his frame of mind. He began meditating how he could put in
the idle hours until the General should return in the evening. He
thought of hunting up Billngs, and giving him that promised thrashing,
but his recent experience did not promise hopefully that he could nag
that worthy into a fight that would be sufficiently interesting.

"I'd probably hit him a welt and he'd go off bawlin' like a calf," he
communed with himself. "No; Billings is too tame, now, until he finds
out whether we've got anything on him to send him to the penitentiary,
where he orter go."

Looking across the street he noticed Eph Click, whom he had known as a
camp-follower down in Tennessee, and was now running a "place" in the
unsavory part of the town. Shorty had the poorest opinion of Eph, but
the latter was a cunning rascal, who kept on the windy side of the law,
and had so far managed to escape the active notice of the Provost-
Marshal. He was now accompanied by a couple of men in brand-new
uniforms, so fresh that they still had the folds of the Quartermaster's
boxes.

"There goes that unhung rascal, Eph Glick," he said to himself, "that
orter be wearin' a striped suit, and breakin' stone in the penitentiary.
He's runnin' a reg'lar dead-fall down the street, there, and he's got a
couple o' green recruits in tow, steerin' them to where he kin rob 'em
of their pay and bounty. They won't have a cent left in two hours. I've
bin achin' to bust him up for a long time, but I've never bin able to
git the p'ints on him that'd satisfy the General or the Provo. I'll jest
go down and clean out his shebang and run him out o' town, and finish
the job up while the General and the Provo's over in Louisville. It'll
all be cleaned up before they git back, and they needn't know a word of
it. Eph's got no friends around here to complain. He's a yaller hound,
that nobody cares what's done to him. It'll be good riddance o' bad
rubbish."

He stalked out of the Headquarters, and beckoned imperiously to a squad
that he saw coming down the street under the command of a Sergeant.
Seeing him come out of Headquarters there was no question of his right
to order, and the Sergeant and squad followed.

They arrived in front of Eph's place about the same time he did.

"Take that man," said Shorty, pointing to Eph, "and put him aboard the
next train that goes out. Think yourself lucky, sir, that you git off so
easily. If you ever show your face back here agin you'll be put at hard
labor on the fortifications for the rest o' your natural life. Hustle
him off to the depot, a couple of you, and see that he goes off when the
train does. The rest o' you bring out all the liquor in that place, and
pour it into the gutter. Sergeant, see that nobody's allowed to drink or
carry any away."

Nothing more was needed for the crowd that had followed up the squad,
anticipating a raid. Bottles, demijohns and kegs were smashed, the
cigars and tobacco snatched up, and the place thoroughly wrecked in a
few minutes.

Shorty contemplated the ruin from across the street, and strolled back
to Headquarters, serenely conscious of having put in a part of the day
to good advantage.

That evening the Provost-Marshal came into Headquarters, and said:

"I'm sorry, General, that you felt that Click place so bad that you were
compelled to take personal action. I have known for some time that
something ought to be done, but I've been trying to collect evidence
that would hold Glick on a criminal charge, so that I could turn him
over to the civil authorities."

"I do not understand what you mean, Colonel," answered the General.

"I mean that Glick place that was raided by your orders today."

"I gave no orders to raid any place. I have left all those matters in
your hands, Colonel, with entire confidence that you would do the right
thing."

"Why, one of my Sergeants reported that a Corporal came from your
Headquarters, and directed the raid to be made."

"A Corporal from my Headquarters?" repeated the General, beginning to
understand. "That's another development of that irrepressible Shorty."
And he called:

"Corp'l Elliott."

"Yes, sir," responded Shorty, appearing at the door and saluting.

"Did you raid the establishment of a person named"

"Eph Glick," supplied the Provost-Marshal.

"Yes, Ephraim Glick. Did you direct it; and, if so, what authority had
you for doing so?"

"Yes, sir," said Shorty promptly. "I done it on my own motion. It was a
little matter that needed tending to, and I didn't think it worth while
to trouble either you or the Provo about it. The feller's bin dead-ripe
for killin' a long time. I hadn't nothin' else to do, so I thought I'd
jest git that job offen my hands, and not to have to think about it any
more."

"Corporal," said the General sternly, "I have not objected to your
running my office, for I probably need all the help in brains and
activity that I can get. But I must draw the line at your assuming the
duties of the Provost-Marshal in addition. He is quite capable of taking
care of his own office. You have too much talent for this narrow sphere.
Gen. Thomas needs you to help him run the army. Tell Wilson to make out
your transportation, so that you can start for your regiment tomorrow.
The Provost-Marshal and I will have to try to run this town without your
help. It will be hard work, I know; but, then, that is what we came into
the service for."

Shorty grumbled to another Orderly as he returned to his place in the
next room:

"There, you see all the thanks you git for bein' a hustler in the way of
doin' your dooty. I done a job for 'em that they should've 'tended to
long ago, and now they sit down on me for it."



CHAPTER XII. SHORTY ON A HUNT GOES AFTER KNIGHTS OF THE GOLDEN CIRCLE.

THAT evening, as Shorty was gathering his things together, preparatory
for starting to the front the next morning, Lieut. Bigelow, one of the
General's young Aids, thrust his head through the doorway and said
gleefully:

"Here, Corporal; I want you. I've got a great lark. Our Secret Service
people report a bad lodge of the Knights of the Golden Circle out here
in the country that threatens to make trouble. It is made up of local
scalawags and runaway rebels from Kentucky and Tennessee. They have a
regular lodge-room in a log house out in the woods, which they have
fixed up into a regular fort, and they hold their meetings at nights,
with pickets thrown out, and no end of secrecy and mystery. The General
thinks that they are some of the old counterfeiting, horse-stealing gang
that infested the country, and are up to their old tricks. But it may be
that they are planning wrecking a train, burning bridges and the like.
They've got so bold that the Sheriff and civil officials are afraid of
them, and don't dare go near them. I've persuaded the General to let me
take out a squad and jump them. Want to go along?"

"I'm your huckleberry," said Shorty.

"I knew you'd be," answered the Lieutenant; "so I got the General to let
me have you. We'll get some 10 or 12 other good boys. That will be
enough. I understand that there are about 100 regular attendants at the
lodge, but they'll not all be there at any time, and a dozen of us can
easily handle what we find there at home."

"A dozen'll be a great plenty," assented Shorty. "More'd be in the way."

"Well, go out and pick up that many of the right kind of boys, bring
them here, and have them all ready by 10 o'clock. You can find guns and
ammunition for them in that room upstairs."

Shorty's first thought was of his old friend, Bob Ramsey, Sergeant of
the Provost-Guard. He found him, and said:

"See here, Bob, I've got something on hand better'n roundin' up
stragglers and squelchin' whisky rows. I've got to pick out some men for
a little raid, where there'll be a chance for a red-hot shindy. Want to
go along?"

"You bet," answered the Sergeant. "How many men do you want? I'll get
'em and go right along."

"No, you don't," answered Shorty. "I'm to be the non-commish of this
crowd. A Lieutenant'll go along for style, but I'll run the thing."

"But you're only a Corporal, while I'm a Sergeant," protested Bob.
"'Taint natural that you should go ahead of me. Why can't you and I run
it together, you next to me? That's the correct thing."

"Well, then," said Shorty, turning away, "you stay and run your old
Provo-Guard. This is my show, and I aint goin' to let nobody in it ahead
o' me."

"Come, now, be reasonable," pleaded Bob. "Why can't you and I go along
together and run the thing? We'll pull together all right. You know I've
been a Sergeant for a long time, and know all about the handling of
men."

"Well, stay here and handle 'em. I'll handle the men that I take, all
right. You kin gamble on that. And what I say to them has to go. Won't
have nobody along that outranks me."

"Well," answered Bob, with a gulp, "let me go along, then, as a
Corporal\x97I'll change my blouse and borrow a Corporal's\x97"

"Rankin' after me?" inquired Shorty.

"Yes; we had a Corporal promoted day before yesterday. I'll borrow his
blouse."

"Promoted day before yesterday," communed Shorty; "and you won't presume
to boss or command no more'n he would?"

"Not a mite," asserted Bob.

"Well, then, you kin come along, and I'll be mighty glad to have you,
for I know you're a standup feller and a good friend o' mine, and I
always want to oblige a friend by lettin' him have a share in any good
fight I have on hand."

Jeff Wilson, the Chief Clerk, got wind of the expedition, and he too
begged to be taken along, to which Shorty consented.

When Lieut. Bigelow came in at 10 o'clock he found Shorty at the head of
12 good men, all armed and equipped, and eager for the service.

"In talking with the Secret Service men," explained the Lieutenant,
"they suggested that it would be well to have one good man, a stranger,
dressed in citizen's clothes\x97butternut jeans, if possible\x97to go ahead at
times and reconnoiter. He ought to be able to play off refugee rebel, if
possible."

"I'll do it. I'm just the man," said Shorty eagerly.

"Well, just come in here," said the Lieutenant. "Now, there's a lot of
butternut jeans. I guess there's a pair of pantaloons long enough for
you."

When Shorty emerged from the room again there was a complete
transformation. Except that his hair was cut close, he was a perfect
reproduction of the tall, gaunt, slouching Tennesseean.

"Perfect," said the Lieutenant, handing him a couple of heavy Remington
revolvers. "Stow these somewhere about your clothes, and get that
blacking off your shoes as soon as you can, and you'll do."

It was planned that they should sleep until near morning, when the spies
of the Knights of the Golden Circle were not alert, enter a freight-car,
which they would keep tightly shut, to escape observation, while the
train ran all day toward a point within easy reach of their quarry. It
would arrive there after dark, and so they hoped to catch the Knights
entirely unawares, and in the full bloom of their audacity and pride.

The car which the squad entered was locked and sealed, and labeled,
"Perishable freight. Do not delay." Their presence was kept secret from
all the train hands but the conductor, a man of known loyalty and
discretion.

Shorty being in disguise, it was decided that he should saunter down
apart from the rest and take his place in the caboose. He lay down on
the long seat, drew his slouch-hat over his eyes, and seemed to go to
sleep. The train pulled out to the edge of the yard, went onto a switch
and waited for the early morning accommodation to pass out and get the
right-of-way.

A heavily-built, middle-aged man, whose coarse face had evidently been
closely shaved a few days before, entered, carrying a large carpet-sack,
which was well-filled and seemingly quite heavy. He set this carefully
down on the seat, in the corner, walked up to the stove, warmed his
hands, glanced sharply at Shorty, said "Good morning," to which Shorty
replied with a snore, took a plug of tobacco from his pocket, from which
he cut a liberal chew with a long dirk that he opened by giving a
skillful flip with his wrist, put the chew in his mouth, released the
spring which held the blade in place, put both knife and tobacco in his
pocket, and turning around spread the tails of his seedy black frock
coat, and seemed lost in meditation as he warmed.

"Not a farmer, storekeeper or stock-buyer," Shorty mentally sized him
up, "Looks more like a hickory lawyer, herb-doctor or tin-horn gambler.
What's he doin' in this caboose? Up to some devilment, no doubt. He'll
bear watchin'."

And Shorty gave another snore. The man, having completed his warming,
sat down by his carpetsack, laid his arm across it to secure possession,
pulled his battered silk hat down over his eyes, and tried to go to
sleep.

The train rumbled out, and presently stopped at another station. Another
man got on, also carrying a large, heavy carpet-sack. He was younger
than the other, looked like a farm-hand, was dressed partly in homespun,
partly in "store-clothes," wore a weather-stained wool hat, and his
sullen face terminated in a goatee. The first-comer looked him over an
instant, and then said:

"Were you out late last night?"

"I was," replied the second-comer, scanning his interrogator.

"Did you see a star?"

"I did."

"What star was it?"

"It was the Star of Bethlehem."

"Right, my brother," responded the other, putting out his hand in a
peculiar way for the grip of the order.

Shorty, still feigning deep sleep, pricked up his ears and drank in
every word. He had heard before of the greeting formula by which Knights
of the Golden Circle recognized one another, and he tried, with only
partial success, to see the grip.

He saw the two men whisper together and tap their carpet-sacks
significantly. They seemed to come to a familiar understanding at once,
but they talked so low that Shorty could not catch their words, except
once when the first-comer raised his voice to penetrate the din as they
crossed a bridge, and did not lower it quickly enough after passing, and
Shorty heard;

"They'll all be certain to be there tonight."

And the other asked: "And the raid'll be made ter-morrer?"

The first-comer replied with a nod. At the next bridge the same thing
occurred, and Shorty caught the words:

"They've no idee. We'll ketch 'em clean offen their guard."

"And the others'll come out?" asked the second-comer.

"Certainly," said the first, lowering his voice again, but the look on
his face and the way he pointed indicated to Shorty that he was saying
that other lodges scattered through the neighborhood were only waiting
the striking of the first blow to rise in force and march on
Indianapolis, release the rebel prisoners there and carry havoc
generally.

"I see through it all," Shorty communed with himself. "They're goin' to
the same place that we are, and've got them carpet-bags filled with
revolvers and cartridges. Somebody's goin' to have a little surprise
party before he's a day older."

The sun had now gotten so high that Shorty could hardly pretend to sleep
longer. He gave a tremendous yawn and sat up. The older man regarded him
attentively, the other sullenly.

"You must've bin out late last night, stranger," said the first.

"I was," answered Shorty, giving him a meaning look.

"Did you see a star?" inquired the older man.

"I did," answered Shorty.

"What star was it?"

"The Star of Bethlehem," answered Shorty boldly.

"'You're right, my brother," said the man, putting out his hand for the
grip. Shorty did the same, trying to imitate what he had seen. The car
was lurching, and the grasp was imperfect. The man seemed only half
satisfied. Shorty saw this, and with his customary impudence determined
to put the onus of recognition on the other side. He drew his hand back
as if disappointed, and turned a severe look upon the other man.

"Where are you from?" asked the first-comer. Shorty curtly indicated the
other side of the Ohio by a nod.

"Where are you goin'?"

Shorty's face put on a severe look, as if his questioner was too
inquisitive. "Jest up here to 'tend to some bizness," he answered
briefly, and turned away as if to close the conversation.

"Say, I've got a right to know something about you," said the first new-
comer. "I'm Captain of this District, and have general charge o' things
here, and men passin' through."

"All right," answered Shorty. "Have general charge. I don't know you,
and I have bizness with men who roost a good deal higher'n you do."

He put his hands to his breast, as if assuring himself of the presence
of important papers, and pulled out a little ways the official-looking
envelope which contained his transportation and passes. This had its
effect. The "Captain" weakened. "Are you from the Southern army?" he
asked in a tone of respect.

"Before I answer any o' your questions," said Shorty authoritatively,
"prove to me who you are." "O, I kin do that quick enough," said the
"Captain" eagerly, displaying on his vest the silver star, which was the
badge of his rank, and his floridly printed commission and a badly-
thumb-marked copy of the ritual of the Knights of the Golden Circle.

"So far, so good," said Shorty. "Now give me the grip."

Shorty, by watching the motions of the other's hand, was skillful enough
to catch on to the grip this time, and get it exactly. He expressed
himself satisfied, and as the car lay on the siding waiting for another
train to arrive and pass he favored his two companions with one of his
finest fictions about his home in Tennessee, his service in the rebel
army, the number of Yankee Abolitionists he had slain with his own hand,
and his present mission with important communications to those "friends
of the South in Illinois" who were organizing a movement to stop the
bloody and brutal war upon his beloved Southland.

His volubility excited that of the "Captain," who related how he had
been doing a prosperous business running a bar on a Lower Mississippi
River boat, until Abolition fanaticism brought on the war; that he had
then started a "grocery" in Jeffersonville, which the Provost-Marshal
had wickedly suppressed, and now he was joining with others of his
oppressed and patriotic fellow-citizens to stop the cruel and unnatural
struggle against their brethren of the South.

"And we shall do it," he said warmly, bringing out the savage-looking
dirk, throwing it open with a deft movement of his wrist, and shaving
off a huge chew of tobacco. "We have a hundred thousand drilled and
armed men here in the State of Injianny, jest waitin' the word, to throw
off the shackles of tyranny and destroy the tyrants.

"There's another hundred thousand in Illinois and like numbers in other
States. And they'll fight, too. They'll fight to the death, and every
one of them is good for' at least three of the usurper Lincoln's
minions. I'd like nothing better than to get a good opportunity at three
or four o' 'em, armed with nothin' more'n this knife. I'd like nothin'
better than the chance to sock it into their black hearts. 'Twouldn't be
the first time, nuther. The catfish around Jeffersonville could tell
some stories if they could talk, about the Lincoln hounds I've fed to
'em. I only want a good chance at 'em agin. I may go, but I'll take
several of 'em with me. I'll die in my tracks afore I'll stand this any
longer. I hate everything that wears blue worse'n I do a mad-dog."

"And I promise you," said Shorty solemnly, "that you shall have all the
chance you want sooner'n you think for. I know a great deal more'n I
dare tell you now, but things is workin' to a head mighty fast, and
you'll hear something drop before the next change o' the moon. You kin
jest bet your shirt on that."

The day was passing, and as the evening approached the train was running
through a wilder, heavily-wooded country. Shorty's companions took their
seats on the opposite side of the car and peered anxiously out of the
window to recognize features of the darkening landscape. They were
evidently getting near their destination.

Shorty overheard the "Captain" say to his partner:

"The train'll stop for water in the middle of a big beech woods. We'll
get off there and take a path that leads right to the lodge."

"How far'll we have to tote these heavy carpetbags?" grumbled the other.

Shorty slipped his hand into his pocket, grasped his revolvers and eased
them around so that he could be certain to draw them when he wanted to.
He was determined that those men should not leave the train before the
stopping place arranged for his fellow-soldiers. He felt confident of
being able to handle the two, but did not know how many confederates
might be in waiting for them.

"I'll go it if there's a million of 'em," said he to himself. "I'll save
these two fellers anyway, if there's any good in 45-caliber bullets in
their carcasses. I'm jest achin' to put a half-ounce o' lead jest where
that old scoundrel hatches his devilment."

The engine whistled long and shrilly.

"That's the pumpin'-station," said the "Captain," rising and laying hold
of the handles of the carpetbag.

"Drop that. You can't leave this car till I give the word," said Shorty,
rising as the train stopped, and putting himself in the door.

"Can't, eh?" said the "Captain," with a look of rage as he comprehended
the situation. His dirk came out and opened with a wicked snap. "I'll
cut your black heart out, you infernal spy."

'how Do You Like the Looks of That, Old Butternut 169

"You will, eh?" sneered Shorty, covering him with a heavy Remington.
"How'd you like the looks o' that, old butternut? Your murderin' dirk
aint deuce high. Move a step, and you'll know how it feels to have
daylight through you."

The "Captain" smashed the window with a backward blow of his fist,
thrust his head out and yelled the rallying-cry of the Knights:

"Asa! Asa!"

The sound of rushing feet was heard, and a man armed with a shot-gun
came into the plane of light from the open caboose door. Shorty was on
the lookout for him, and as he appeared, shouted;

"Halt, there! Drop that gun. If you move I'll kill this whelp here and
then you."

"Do as he says, Stallins," groaned the frightened "Captain." "He's got
the drop on me. Drop your gun, but holler to the boys in the front car
to come out."

To Shorty's amazement a score of men came rushing back from the car next
ahead of the caboose. They had, by a preconcerted arrangement, been
jumping on the train ever since it grew dark, and collected in that car.
Some of them had guns, but the most appeared unarmed.

"Well, I have stirred up a yaller-jacket's nest for sure," thought
Shorty, rather tickled at the odds which were arrayed against him. "But
I believe I kin handle 'em until either the train pulls out or the boys
hear the ruction and come to my help."

Then he called out sternly as he raised the revolver in his left hand:

"I'll shoot the first man that attempts to come on this car, and I'll
kill your Captain, that I've got covered, dead. You man with that shot-
gun, p'int it straight up in the air or I'll drop you in your tracks.
Now fire off both barrels."

It seemed to every man in the gang that Shorty's left-hand revolver was
pointing straight at him. The man with the shot-gun was more than
certain of this, and he at once complied with the order.

There was a whistle, followed by a rush of men from a line further out,
and every man of those around Shorty was either knocked down or rudely
punched with a musket-barrel in the hands of Lieut. Bigelow's squad.

"What in the world made you so long comin'?" asked Shorty, after all the
prisoners had been secured. "Was you asleep?"

"No," answered the Lieutenant. "This is the place where we intended to
get off. We were quietly getting out so as to attract no notice when you
started your circus. I saw you were doing well, hiving those fellows
together, so I let you go ahead, while I slipped the boys around to
gather them all in. Pretty neat job for a starter, wasn't it?"



CHAPTER XIII. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING BREAKING UP A DEN OF COPPERHEADS.

"COME, hustle these prisoners back into the car in which we were,"
commanded the Lieutenant. "We'll leave it on the switch with a guard.
Lock it up carefully, and one man'll be enough to guard it until we get
back. Make haste, for we've no time to lose. Shorty."

"Corpril Elliott," Shorty corrected him, mindful of the presence of
Sergeant Bob Ramsey.

"Yes; excuse me. Corporal Elliott, while we are attending to the
prisoners you go on ahead and reconnoiter. You need not stop unless you
see fit until you are clear into the lodge. Give one low whistle if you
want us to stop, two to come ahead and three to go back."

It was a moonless night, and the broom-like tops of the close-growing
beeches made a dense darkness, into which Shorty plunged, but he could
readily make out a well-beaten path, which he followed. Occasionally he
could make out dark figures moving just ahead of him or crossing the
path.

"Goin' to be a full attendance at the services this evenin'," he
muttered to himself. "But the more the merrier. It'll insure a goodly
number at the mourner's bench when we make the call for the
unconverted."

Big and lumbering as Shorty sometimes seemed in his careless hours, no
wildcat gliding through the brush was more noiseless-footed than he now.
He kept on the darker side of the path, but not a twig seemed to crack
or a leaf rustle under his heavy brogans. Twice he heard lumbering steps
in his rear, and he slipped behind the big trunk of a tree, and saw the
men pass almost within arm's length, but without a suspicion of his
presence.

"Well, for men workin' a dark-lantern job this is about the logiest
crowd I ever struck," he said rather disgustedly. "An elephant'd have to
step on 'em before they'd know he was around. They ain't hardly good
fun."

Presently he heard some rustling over to his right and caught the low
murmur of a voice. He cautiously made his way in that direction until he
made an opening, with a number of men sitting on a log, while others
were standing, leaning on their guns.

"Probably a caucus outside to set up the pins before goin' into the full
meetin'," he said to himself. "As I always like to be with the winnin'
side, I guess I'll jest jine 'em."

He advanced boldly into the opening. At the sound of his approach the
men looked up, and one of those leaning on his gun picked it up and came
toward him.

"You are out late," he whispered, when within speaking distance.

"Yes," answered Shorty. "And I was out late last night."

"Did you see a star?"

"I did."

"What star was it?"

"It was the Star of Bethlehem."

The first speaker had seemed to start at the sound of Shorty's voice,
but he recovered himself, and saying, "You're right, my brother," put
out his hand for the grip.

"'Taint right, neither," hissed Shorty. "Si Klegg, what are you doin'
here?"

"Shorty!" ejaculated Si, joyfully, but still in a whisper. "I thought I
knowed your voice. Where in the world did you come from?"

"I'm here on business," answered Shorty. "I came up from Headquarters at
Jeffersonville. What brung you here?"

"O," said Si, "we've bin hearin' about this Copperhead lodge for some
time, and some of us boys who's home on furlough thought that we'd come
down here with the Deputy Provo and bust it up. We've bin plannin' it a
week or two. All these that you see, there are soldiers. I've 15,
includin' myself."

The boys hastily conferred together as to the plan of operations, and
one man was hurried back to inform Lieut. Bigelow of the presence of the
other squad.

"You seem to know most about this affair. Shorty," said Si. "You take
command and make arrangements."

"Not for a minute. Si," protested Shorty. "You rank me and you must
command, and I want you to hold your own over Bob Ramsey, who will try
to rank you. Bob's a good boy, but he's rather too much stuck on his
stripes."

It was finally arranged that Si should move his squad out to near the
edge of the path and wait for Lieut. Bigelow to come up, while Shorty
should go forward and reconnoiter.

Shorty walked along the path toward the lodge. Suddenly the large figure
of a man loomed up before him, standing motionless, on guard, in the
road.

"You are out late, my friend," said he.

"Yes," answered Shorty.

"Did you see a star?"

"Yes."

"What was it?"

"The Star of Bethlehem."

"You are right, my brother," said the man, extending his hand for the
grip.

"This rotten star-and-brother rigmarole's making me sick," muttered
Shorty, with a hasty glance to see that the man was alone, and grasping
his hand with a grip of iron, while with his left he clutched the
sentry's throat. Before the man could utter a groan he wrenched him
around and started him back for Si. Arriving there he flung him under
the trees, saying in a loud whisper:

"First sucker o' this Spring's run. String him. Si."

Lieut. Bigelow had come up in the meanwhile with the other squad, and
they all moved cautiously forward to where they could get a dim sight of
the lodge through the intervals between the trees. For a log house it
was quite a large building, and stood in the center of a small clearing
which had been made to furnish logs for its erection. Faint gleams of
light came through the badly-chinked walls, and the hum of voices showed
that there was a large crowd gathered inside.

"There's likely to be from 100 to 150 in there," said the Lieutenant,
after a moment's consideration. "We've got 27 or 28. We'll jump them,
though, if they're a thousand. Corporal Elliott, you go forward and make
your way inside, if you can, and see what they are doing. If you can get
inside, stay 10 or 15 minutes, and come out and report. If you can't get
out, or you think they are ripe for jumping, whistle, and we'll pile in.
Sergeant Klegg, you hold your squad together and move down as near the
door as you can without being seen and be ready for a rush. Find a rail
or a log to smash the door in if they try to hold it against us.
Sergeant Ramsey, deploy your men quietly around to the rear there to cut
off retreat, but be ready to rally again and help Sergeant Klegg out if
he strikes a big snag. You make the circuit of the house and post
yourself where you can see what's going on, and signal your men.
Everybody keep under the shadow of the trees and make no noise. Go on to
the house, Corporal."

Shorty left the cover of the trees and walked directly toward the front
door. No one appeared or halted him until he pushed the front door open.
Then a man who seemed more intent on what was going on inside than the
new arrival, bent his head over to catch the farrago about the star, and
put out his hand for the grip.

"Come on in, but don't make a noise," he whispered. "They're givin' the
obligation, and I want to hear it."

Shorty stood beside him for a moment, and then watched his opportunity,
and pressed by him, to where he could see into the room. It was entirely
dark except for the light of a single candle, shaded so that its rays
fell upon a rude altar in the center of the room, draped with a rebel
flag. Upon this lay a naked sword, skull and cross-bones. Behind the
altar stood a masked man, draped in a long shroud, who was mouthing in a
sepulchral tone the obligation to several men kneeling in front of the
altar. The dim light faintly revealed other masked and shrouded figures
stationed at various places about the room and looming above the seated
audience.

"You solemnly swear," droned the chief actor, "to resist to the death
every attempt to place the nigger above the white man and destroy the
Government of our fathers."

"We do," responded those kneeling at the altar.

"Let it be so recorded," said a sepulchral voice from the other
extremity of the room. A gong sounded dismally and a glare of lurid red
light filled the room.

"Regler Sons o' Malty biziniss, like I seen in St. Looyey," commented
Shorty to himself. "Masks, shrouds, red fire and gong, all the same. But
where've I heard that croakin' voice before?"

"You solemnly promise and swear," resumed the sepulchral tones of the
chief actor, "to do all in your power to restore the Constitution and
laws of this country to what were established by the fathers and resist
the efforts of nigger-loving Abolitionists and evil-minded fanatics to
subvert them."

"We do," responded the kneeling men.

Again the grewsome gong sounded, the red fire glared forth and the
hollow voice announced that it was so recorded.

"I'll bet six bits to a picayune," said Shorty to himself, "that I know
the rooster who's doin' them high priest antics. Where'd I hear his
voice before?"

"And, finally, brethren," resumed the chief actor, "do you solemnly
promise and swear to cheerfully obey all orders given you by officers
regularly appointed over you according to the rules and regulations of
this great order and military discipline?"

There was a little hesitation about this, but the kneeling ones were
nudged and whispered to, and finally responded:

"We do."

Again it was funereally announced to the accompaniment of flashes of red
fire and the gong that it was duly recorded.

"Great Jehosephat, if it ain't old Billings himself that's doin' that
heavy tragedy act," said Shorty, slapping himself on the thigh. "The old
dregs o' the bottomless pit! Is there any deviltry that he won't git
into?"

His decision was confirmed a minute or two later, when, after some more
fanfarronade the initiation ended, the officers removed their masks and
shrouds, and the candles in the sconces around the room were relighted.
Billings took his seat on the platform at the end of the room farthest
from the door, picked up the gavel and rapped for order.

"Now, brethren," said he, "having witnessed the solemn initiation of
several brave, true men into our rapidly-swelling ranks and welcomed
them as real patriots who have united with us to resist to the bitter
end the cruel tyrannies of the Abolition despot at Washington\x97the vulgar
railsplitter of the Sangamon, who is filling this once happy land with
the graves of his victims, we will proceed to the regular business for
which we have assembled. I regret that our gallant Captain has not yet
arrived with the supply of arms and ammunition that he went to
Jeffersonville to secure. I thought I heard the whistle of the train
some time ago, and have been expecting him every minute. He may be here
yet."

"Not if that guard at the switch 'tends to his little business, he
won't," Shorty chuckled to himself.

"When he gets here," continued Billings, "we shall have enough weapons
to finish our outfit, and give every member, including them initiated
tonight, a good, serviceable arm, as effective as any in the hands of
our enemies. We shall then be in shape to carry out the several projects
which we have before discussed and planned. We shall be ready to strike
at any moment. When we do strike success is sure. The Southern armies,
which have so long bravely battled for the Constitution and the laws and
white men's rights, are again advancing from every point. Every mail
brings me glad good news of the organization of our brave friends
throughout this State and Illinois. They're impatient to begin. The
first shot fired will be the signal for an uprising that'll sweep over
the land like a prairie fire and\x97"

He stopped abruptly, contracted his brows, and gazed fixedly at Shorty.

"Brother Walker," said Billings, "there's a tall man settin' close by
the door that I seem to've seen before, and yit I don't exactly
recognize. Please hold that candle nigh his face till I can see it more
plainly."

Shorty happened to be looking at another man that minute, and did not at
first catch the drift of Billings's remarks. When he did, he hesitated
an instant whether to whistle or try to get out. Before he could decide,
Eph Glick, whom he had raided at Jeffersonville, struck him a heavy blow
on the side of his head and yelled:

"He's a traitor! He's a spy! Kill the infernal, egg-suckin' hound!"

There was a rush of infuriated men, which carried Shorty over and made
him the object of a storm of blows and kicks. So many piled on him at
once that they struck and kicked one another in their confusion. The
door was torn out, and its pieces fell with the tumble of cursing,
striking, kicking men that rolled outside.

Si rushed forward with his squad, and in an instant they were knocking
right and left with their gun-barrels. So many fell on top of Shorty
that he was unable to rise and extricate himself.

Not exactly comprehending what was going on, but thinking that the time
for them to act had come, the four boys to whom Si had given the duty of
making the rush with the log to break down the door, came bolting up,
shouting to their comrades:

"Open out, there, for us."

'the Prisoners Had Too Much Solicitude About Their Garments to Think of
Anything Else.' 185

Their battering-ram cleaned off the rest of those still pommeling
Shorty, and drove back those who were swarming in the door.

Shorty sprang up and gave a rib-breaking kick to the prostrate Eph
Glick.

The crowd inside at first recoiled at the sight of the soldiers, but,
frightened for his own safety, Billings shouted, as he sheltered himself
behind the altar:

"Don't give way, men. There's only a few o' them. Draw your revolvers
and shoot down the scum. Drive 'em away."

A score of shots were fired in obedience, but Si, making his voice ring
above the noise, called out:

"Stop that firing, or I'll kill every man in the house. If there's
another shot fired we'll open on you and keep it up till you're every
one dead. Surrender at once!"

"Go at 'em with the bayonet, Si," yelled Shorty. "I'm goin' around to
ketch old Billings. He's in there, and'll try to sneak out the back
way."

As Shorty ran around the corner he came face-to-face with a stalwart
Irishman, one of the pluckiest of the squad brought from Jeffersonville.
His face was drawn and white with fright, and he fumbled at his beads.

"O, Corpril," he said, with chattering teeth, "Oi've jist sane the very
divil himself, so Oi have. Oi started to run up t' the house whin the
ruction begun, when suddintly the ground opened up at me very fate, an'
out kim a ghost, tin fate hoigh, wid oyes av foire, and brathing flames,
an' he shtarted for me, an' oi\x97"

"What damned nonsense is this, O'Brien?" asked Shorty angrily. "Are you
drunk, or jest naturally addled? Come along with me and we'll\x97"

"Not for a thousand loives," groaned the Irishman. "Howly saints, fwhat
is old Clootie after me for? Is it for atin' that little taste o' ham
last Friday? Holy Mary, save me; there he is again!"

"Where, you flannel-mouthed Mick?" asked Shorty savagely. "Where do you
see the devil?"

"There! There! That white thing. Don't you say it yersilf?" groaned the
Irishman, dropping on his knees, and calling on all the saints.

"That white thing. That's only a sycamore stump, you superstitious bog-
trotter," said Shorty, with angry contempt, as he bent his eyes on the
white object. Then he added in the next breath:

"But blamed if that stump ain't walkin' off. Funny stump."

He gave a leap forward for closer investigation. At the crash of his
footsteps the stump actually turned around and gave a sepulchral groan.
Then, seeing that it was not a soldier pursuing, a very natural human
voice proceeded from it.

"Is that you, Brother Welch? I thought at first it was a soldier. I
motioned you when the trouble first begun to follow me through the
underground passage. There was enough others there to make the fight,
and it'd never do for us to be taken by the Lincolnites. We're too
valuable to the cause just now, and, then, if the Lincolnites get hold
of me they'll certainly make me a martyr. Come right over this way. We
kin strike a path near here that'll take us right out."

"Great Jehosephat," said Shorty, "if it ain't old Billings, masqueradin'
in his Sons o' Malty rig."

He made another leap or two, clapped his hand on Billings's shoulder,
and shoved the muzzle of his revolver against the mask and demanded:

"Halt and surrender, you barrel-headed, splayfooted son of a sardine.
Come along with me, or I'll blow that whole earthquake rig offen you."

Shorty marched his prisoner back to the house, and as he neared it saw
by the light of a fire O'Brien, who had apparently recovered from his
fright, for he was having a lively bout with a large young fellow who
was trying to make his escape. It seemed an even thing for a minute or
two, but the Irishman finally downed his antagonist by a heavy blow with
his massive fist.

"Here, O'Brien," said Shorty, "I've ketched your devil and brung him
back to you. When a boss shies at anything the best way's to lead him
square up to it and let him smell it. So I want you to take charge o'
this prisoner and hold him safe till the scrimmage is over."

O'Brien looked at the figure with rage and disgust. He gave Billings a
savage clout with his open hand, saying:

"Ye imp o' the divil\x97ye unblest scab of an odmahoun. Oi'll brake ivery
bone av yer body for goin' around by noights in thim wake-duds, scaring
daysint folks out av their siven sinses."

The fighting had been quite a severe tussle for the soldiers. There had
not been much shooting, but a great deal of clubbing with gun-barrels
and sticks, which left a good many bloody heads and aching arms and
shoulders. About half of those in the meeting had succeeded in getting
away, but this still left some 75 prisoners in the hands of Lieut.
Bigelow, and he was delighted with his success.

It was decided to hold all the prisoners in the lodge until morning, and
two of the boys who had gotten pretty badly banged about the head were
sent back to the railroad to relieve and assist the guard left there.

"I find about 10 or 15 birds in the flock," said the Deputy Provost, who
was also Deputy Sheriff, when they looked over the prisoners in the
morning, "that we have warrants and complaints for, for everything from
plain assault and battery to horse-stealing. It would save the military
much trouble and serve the ends of justice better if we could send them
over to the County seat and put them in jail, where the civil
authorities could get a whack at them. I'd go there myself if I could
walk, but this bullet in my shin disables me."

"I'd like to do it," answered Lieut. Bigelow, "but I haven't the guard
to spare. So many of my men got disabled that I won't have more than
enough to guard the cars on the way back and keep these whelps from
jumping the train or being rescued by their friends when we stop at the
stations. The news of this affair is all over the country by this time,
and their friends will all be out."

"How fur is it to the County seat?" asked Shorty.

"About 15 miles," answered the Deputy Provost.

"Me and Si Klegg'll march 'em over there, and obligate ourselves not to
lose a rooster of 'em," said Shorty.

"That'll be a pretty big contract," said the Lieutenant doubtfully.

"All right. We're big enough for it. We'll take every one of 'em in if
we have to haul some of 'em feet foremost in a wagon."

"It'll be a great help in many ways," considered Lieut. Bigelow. "The
crowd'll be looking for us at the stations and not think of these
others. Those are two very solid men, and will do just what they
promise. I think I'll let them try it. It would be well for you to tell
those men that any monkey business with them will be unhealthy. They'd
better trust to getting away from the grand jury than from them."

But as the Deputy Provost went over them more carefully he found more
that were "wanted" by the civil authorities, and presently had selected
25 very evil-looking fellows, whose arrest would have been justified on
general appearances.

"Haint we bit off more'n we kin chaw. Shorty?" asked Si, as he looked
over the increasing gang. "Hadn't we better ask for some help?"

"Not a bit of it," answered Shorty, confidently. "That'll look like
weakenin' to the Lieutenant and the Provo. We kin manage this gang, or
we'll leave 'em dead in the brush."

"All right," assented Si, who had as little taste as his partner for
seeming to weaken. "Here goes for a fight or a foot-race."

While the Deputy was making out a list of the men and writing a note to
the Sheriff, Shorty went through the gang and searched each man for
arms. Then he took out his knife and carefully cut the suspender buttons
from every one of their pantaloons.

"Now we've got 'em, Si," he said gleefully, as he returned to his
partner's side, with his hand full of buttons. "They'll have to use both
hands to hold their britches on, so they kin neither run nor fight.
They'll be as peaceable as lambs."

"Shorty," said Si, in tones of fervent admiration, "I wuz afeared that
crack you got on your head softened your brains. But now I see it made
you brighter'n ever. You'll be wearin' a General's stars before this war
is over."

"Bob Ramsey was a-blowin' about knowin' how to handle men," answered
Shorty. "I'm just goin' to bring him over here and show him this trick
that he never dreamed of."

After he had gloated over Sergeant Ramsey, Shorty got his men into the
road ready to start. Si placed himself in front of the squad and
deliberately loaded his musket in their sight. Shorty took his place in
the rear, and gave out:

"Now, you roosters, you see I've two revolvers, and I'm a dead shot with
either hand. I'm good for 12 of you at the first jump and my partner kin
'tend to the rest. Now, if I see a man so much as make a motion toward
the side o' the road I'll drop him. Give the command. Sergeant Klegg."

"Forward\x97march!" ordered Si.

It was as Shorty predicted. The prisoners had entirely too much
solicitude about their garments to think of anything else, and the march
was made without incident. Late in the afternoon they reached the County
seat, and marched directly for the public square, in which the jail was
situated. There were a few people on the streets, who gathered on the
sidewalks to watch the queer procession. Shorty, with both hands on his
revolvers, had his eyes fixed on the squad, apprehensive of an attempt
to bolt and mix with the crowd. He looked neither to the right nor the
left, but was conscious that they were passing a corner on which stood
some ladies. Then he heard a voice which set his heart to throbbing call
out:

"Hello, Si Klegg! Si Klegg! Look this way. Where'd you come from?"

"Great Jehosephat! Maria!" said Shorty to himself. But he dared not take
his eyes a moment from the squad to look toward her.



CHAPTER XIV. GUARDING THE KNIGHTS SI AND SHORTY STAND OFF A MOB AT THE
JAIL.

HAVING seen their prisoners safely behind the bars, Si and Shorty
breathed more freely than they had since starting out in the morning,
and Si remarked, as he folded up the receipt for them and placed it in
his pocket-book:

"That drove's safely marketed, without the loss of a runaway or a
played-out. Purty good job o' drovin', that. Pap couldn't do better'n
that with his hogs. I'm hungrier'n a wolf. So must you be, Shorty. Le's
hunt up Maria, and she'll take us where we kin git a square meal. Then
we kin talk. I've got a hundred questions I want to ask you, but ain't
goin' to do it on an empty gizzard. Come on."

Shorty had dropped on to a bench, and fixed his eyes on the stone wall
opposite, as if desperately striving to read there some hint of
extrication from his perplexities. The thought of encountering Maria's
bright eyes, and seeing there even more than her sharp tongue would
express, numbed his heart.

"Yit, how kin I git away from Si, now?" he murmured to himself. "And yit
I'm so dead hungry to see her again that I'd be willin' to be a'most
skinned alive to do it. Was ever anybody else so big a fool about a
girl? I've plagued other fellers, and now I've got it worse'n anybody
else. It's a judgment on me. But, then, nobody else ever seen such a
girl as that. There's some sense in bein' a fool about her."

"Come on, Shorty," called Si from the door. "What are you dreamin' on?
Are you too tired to move? Come on. We'll have a good wash, that'll take
away some of the tiredness, then a big dinner, and a good bed tonight.
Tomorrer mornin' we'll be as good as new."

"I think I'd better git right on the next train and go back to
Jeffersonvillie," murmured Shorty, faintly struggling with himself.
"They may need me there."

"Nonsense!" answered Si. "We've done enough for one day. I've bin up for
two nights now, and am goin' to have a rest. Let some o' the other
fellers have a show for their money. We haint got to fight this whole
war all by ourselves."

"No, Si," said Shorty, summoning all his resolution; "I'm goin' back on
the next train. I must git back to the company. They'll\x97"

"You'll do nothin' o' the kind," said Si impatiently. "What's eatin'
you? What'd you skip out from our house for? What'd you mean\x97"

He was broken in upon by Maria's voice as she came in at the head of a
bevy of other girls:

"Si Klegg, ain't you ever comin' out? What's akeepin' you? We're tired
waitin' for you, and w're comin' right in. What're you doin' to them
ragamuffins that you've bin gatherin' up? Tryin' to patch 'em up into
decent-lookin' men? Think it'll be like mendin' a brush-fence\x97makin' bad
worse. Where on earth did you gather up sich a gang o' scare-crows? I
wouldn't waste my days and nights pickin' up sich runts as them. When I
go manhuntin' I'll gether something that's worth while."

Every bright sally of Maria was punctuated with shrieks of laughter from
the girls accompanying her. Led by her, they swarmed into the dull, bare
room, filling it with the brightness of their youthful presence, their
laughter, and their chirruping comments on everything they saw. The jail
was a place of deep mystery to them, and it was a daring lark for them
to venture in even to the outside rooms.

"The girls dared me to bring 'em in," Maria explained to Si, "and I
never won't take no dare from anyone. Si, ain't you goin' to kiss your
sister? You don't act a bit glad to see me. Now, if it was Annabel\x97"

"Why, Maria," said Si, kissing her to stop her mouth, "I wasn't
expectin' to see you. What in the world are you doin' over here?"

"Why, your Cousin Marthy, here, is goin' to be married Thursday to her
beau, who's got 10 days' leave to come home for that purpose. The
thing's bin hurried up, because he got afeared. He heard that Marthy was
flyin' around to singin' school and sociables with some other fellers
that's home on furlough. So he just brung things to a head, and I rushed
over here to help Marthy git ready, and stand by her in the tryin' hour.
Why, here's Mr. Corporil Elliott, that I hain't spoken to yit. Well, Mr.
Skip-and-away, how d' you do? Girls, come up here and see a man who
thought mother's cookin' was not good enough for him. He got homesick
for army rations, and run off without so much as sayin' good-by, to git
somethin' to eat that he'd really enjoy."

Her merry laugh filled the room, and rang even into the dark cells
inside. Shorty shambled to his feet, pulled off his hat, and stood with
downcast eyes and burning face. He had never encountered anything so
beautiful and so terrifying.

Maria was certainly fair to look upon. A buxom, rosy-cheeked lass,
something above the average hight of girls, and showing the Klegg blood
in her broad chest and heavy, full curves. She was dressed in the
hollyhock fashion of country girls of those days, with an exuberance of
bright colors, but which Shorty thought the hight of refined fashion. He
actually trembled at what the next words would be from those full, red
lips, that never seemed to open except in raillery and mocking.

"Well, ain't you goin' to shake hands with me? What are you mad about?"

"Mad? Me mad? What in the world've I to be mad about?" thought Shorty,
as he changed his hat to his left hand, and put forth shamedly a huge
paw, garnished with red hair and the dust of the march. It seemed so
unfit to be touched by her white, plump hand. She gave him a hearty
grasp, which reassured him a little, for there was nothing in it, at
least, of the derision which seemed to ring in every note of her voice
and laughter.

"Girls," she called, "come up and be introduced. This is Mr. Corpril
Elliott, Si's best friend and partner. I call him Mr. Fly-by-night,
because he got his dander up about something or nothin', and skipped out
one night without so much's sayin'\x97"

"O, Maria, come off. Cheese it. Dry up," said Si impatiently. "Take us
somewhere where we kin git somethin' to eat. Your tongue's hung in the
middle, and when you start to talkin' you forgit everything else. I'm
hungrier'n a bear, and so's Shorty."

An impulse of anger flamed up in Shorty's heart. How dared Si speak that
way to such a peerless creature? How could he talk to her as if she were
some ordinary girl?

"O, of course, you're hungry," Maria answered. "Never knowed you when
you wasn't. You're worse'n a Shanghai chicken\x97eat all day and be hungry
at night. But I expect you are really hungry this time. Come on. We'll
go right up to Cousin Marthy's. I sent word that you was in town, and
they're gittin' ready for you. I seen a dray-load o' provisions start up
that way. Come on, girls. Cousin Marthy, bein's you're engaged and Si's
engaged, you kin walk with him. The rest o' you fall in behind, and I'll
bring up the rear, as Si'd say, with Mr. Fly-by-night, and hold on to
him so that he sha'n't skip again."

"Me run away," thought Shorty, as they walked along. "Hosses couldn't
drag me away. I only hope that house is 10 miles off."

Unfortunately for his cause he could not say nor hint any such a thing,
but walked along in dogged silence. The sky was overcast and cheerless,
and a chill wind blew, but Shorty never knew such a radiant hour.

"Well, why don't you say something? What's become o' your tongue?" began
Maria banteringly.

"Have you bit it off, or did some girl, that you bolted off in such a
hurry to see, drain you so dry o' talk that you haint got a word left?
Who is she? What does she look like? What made you in sich a dreadful
hurry to see her? You didn't go clear up to Bad Ax, did you, and kill
that old widower?"

"Maria," called out Si, "if you don't stop plaguin' Shorty I'll come
back there and wring your neck. You kin make the worst nuisance o'
yourself o' any girl that ever lived. Here, you go up there and walk
with Cousin Marthy. I'll walk with Shorty. I've got something I want to
say to him."

With that he crowded in between Maria and Shorty and gave his sister a
shove to send her forward. Shorty flared up at the interference. Acute
as his suffering was under Maria's tongue, he would rather endure it
than not have her with him. Anyhow, it was a matter between him and her,
with which Si had no business.

"You oughtn't to jaw your sister that way, Si," he remonstrated
energetically. "I think it's shameful. I wouldn't talk that way to any
woman, especially sich a one as your sister."

"Whose sister is she, anyway?" snapped Si, who was as irritable as a
hungry and tired man gets. "You 'tend to your sisters and I'll 'tend to
mine. I'm helpin' you. You don't know Maria. She's one o' the best girls
in the world, but she's got a doublegeared, self-actin' tongue that's
sharper'n a briar. She winds it up Sundays and lets it run all week.
I've got to comb her down every little while. She's a filly you can't
manage with a snaffle. Let her git the start and you'd better be dead.
The boys in our neighborhood's afeared to say their soul's their own
when she gits a-goin'. You 'tend to the other girls and leave me to
'tend to her. She's my sister\x97nobody else's."

Have Come, Sir, in the Name of The People Of Indiana To Demand the
Release of Those Men. 199

Shorty fell back a little and walked sullenly along. The people at the
house were expecting them, and had a bountiful supper prepared. A good,
sousing wash in the family lavatory in the entry, plentifully supplied
with clear water, soap, tin basins and clean roller towels, helped much
to restore the boys' self-respect and good humor. When they were seated
at the table Maria, as the particular friend of the family, assisted as
hostess, and paid especial attention to supplying Shorty's extensive
wants, and by her assiduous thoughtfulness strengthened her chains upon
him and soothed the hurts her tongue had made. Yet he could not see her
whisper to one of the other girls, and hear the responsive giggle, but
he thought with flushed face that it concerned the Bad Ax incident. But
Maria was not doing any such covert work. She was, above everything,
bold and outspoken.

"You girls that want a soldier-beau," she took opportunity to remark at
a little pause in the feast, "kin jest set your caps for Mr. Corpril
Elliott there. He's in the market. He had a girl up in Bad Ax, Wis., but
she went back on him, and married a stay-at-home widower, who's in the
lumber business."

There was a general giggle, and a chorus of exclamations at such
unpatriotic and unwomanly perfidy. Shorty's appetite fled.

"Maria," thundered Si, "I'll make you pay for this when I git you
alone."

"Yes," continued the incorrigible tease; "and they say the best time to
ketch a widder is while her eyes is wet. Transplantin's best in wet
weather, and the best time to ketch a feller's jest when he's bin
jilted."

Si sprang from the table, as if he would catch Maria and slap her. She
laughingly threatened him with a big fork in her hand. They happened to
look toward Shorty. He had risen from the table, with the sweat pouring
from his burning face. He fumbled in his breast for his silk
handkerchief. As he pulled it out there came with it the piece of
Maria's dress, which Shorty had carefully treasured. It fell to the
floor. Shorty saw it, and forgetful of all else, stooped over, picked it
up, carefully brushed the dust from it, refolded it and put if back in
his pocket. Maria's face changed instantly from laughing raillery, and
she made a quick movement to place herself where she would hide from the
rest what he was doing.

There was a rap at the door and the Sheriff of the County entered.

"Sorry to disturb you at supper," he said. "But there's some hint of
trouble, and I'd like to have you stand by to help me if it comes. The
news has gone all over the country of the haul you brung into the' jail
this afternoon, and they say their friends are gatherin' for a rescue.
So many o' the right kind o' the boys is away in the army that I hardly
know where to look for help. I'm sending word around to all I kin reach.
There's several o' the boys that're home gittin' well o' wounds that'll
be glad to help. I'm sendin' buggies for 'em. They can't walk, but they
kin stand up and shoot. I'd like to have you come down to the jail as
soon's you git through your supper. And, Serg't Klegg, will you take
command? I ain't much on the military, but I'll stay with you and obey
orders."

"All right. Sheriff; we'll be right down," responded Si with alacrity.
"Git together a few of the boys, and we'll stand off the Knights. There
won't be much trouble, I think."

The prospect of a fight transformed Shorty. His shamefacedness vanished
instantly, and he straightened up to his full hight with his eyes
shining.

"I don't think there's need o' disturbin' the other boys. Sheriff," he
said. "I guess me and Si'll be able to stand off any crowd that they're
likely to run up aginst us."

"Don't know about that," said the Sheriff doubtfully. "They've bin
gittin' sassier and sassier lately, and've showed more willingness to
fight. They've put up several very nasty little shindies at one place or
another. Out at Charleston, Ill., they killed the Sheriff and a lot o'
soldiers right in the Courthouse yard in broad daylight. I believe
they've got rebels for officers. We mustn't take no chances."

"Let 'em come on," said Si. "We've run up aginst rebels before. We'll be
down to the jail in a few minutes. Sheriff."

The Sheriff's words had banished the ready laughter from the girls'
lips, and taken away their appetites, but seemed to have sharpened those
of Si and Shorty.

"Here, Maria," called out Si, as he resumed his place at the table with
Shorty, while the girls grouped together and whispered anxiously, "bring
us in some more o' them slapjacks. We may have to be up all night, and
want somethin' that'll stay by us."

"Yes," echoed Shorty, speaking for the first time since he had come into
the house; "I feel as if I'd like to begin all over agin."

"I wish you could begin all over agin," said Maria in a tone very
different from her former one. "I'd like to cook another supper for you.
I wish I could do something to help. Can't I go with you and do
something\x97load guns, or something? I've read about women doin' somethin'
o' that kind in the Injun fightin'."

"If you could git 'em within range o' your tongue, Maria," said Si
merrily, "you'd scatter, 'em in short order. No; you stay here, and say
your prayers, and go to bed like a good girl, and don't worry about us.
We'll come out all right. It's the other fellers' womenfolks that've
cause to worry. Let them stay up and walk the floor."

As the boys walked down to the jail they saw in the darkness squads of
men moving around in a portentious way. At the jail were the Sheriff,
wearing an anxious look, two or three citizens, and several soldiers,
some with their arms in slings, others on crutches.

"I'm so glad you've come," said the Sheriff. "Things is beginnin' to
look very ugly outside. They've got the whole country stirred up, and
men are coming in on every road. You take command, Sergeant Klegg. I've
bin waitin' for you, so's I could drive over to the station and send a
dispatch to the Governor. The station's about a mile from here, but I'll
be back as soon as my horse'll bring me. I didn't want to send the
dispatch till I was sure there was need of it, for I don't want to bring
soldiers here for nothin'."

The wheels of the Sheriff's buggy rattled over the graveled road, and a
minute later there was a knock at the outside door. Si opened it and saw
there a young man with a smoothly-shaven face, a shock of rumpled hair
and wearing a silk hat, a black frockcoat and seedy vest and pantaloons.
Si at once recognized him as a lawyer of the place.

"Who's in charge here?" he asked.

"I am, for the present," said Si.

"There it is," said he, in a loud voice, that others might hear; "a
military guard over citizens arrested without warrant of law. I have
come, sir, in the name of the people of Indiana, to demand the immediate
release of those men."

"You kin go, sir, and report to them people that it won't be did,"
answered Si firmly.

"But they've been arrested without due process of law. They've been
arrested in violation of the Constitution and laws of the State of
Indiana, which provide\x97"

"I ain't here to run no debatin' society," Si interrupted, "but to obey
my orders, which is to hold these men safe and secure till otherwise
ordered."

"I give you fair warning that you will save bloodshed by releasing the
men peaceably. We don't want to shed blood, but\x97"

"We'll take care o' the bloodshed," said Si, nonchalantly. "We're in
that business. We git $13 a month for it."

"Do you defy the sovereign people of Indiana, you military autocrat?"
said the lawyer.

"Look here, mister," said Shorty, striding forward. "Don't you call my
pardner no names, especially none like that. If you want a fight we're
here to accommodate you till you git plum-full of it. But you musn't
call no sich names as that, or I'll knock your head off."

"Whose head'll you knock off?" said a burly man, thrusting himself in
front of the lawyer, with his fist doubled.

"Yours, for example," promptly responded Shorty, sending out his mighty
right against the man's head.

"Don't be a fool, Markham," said the lawyer, catching the man and
pushing him back into the crowd behind. "Now, sir, Sergeant, or Captain,
or Colonel, whatever you may call yourself, for I despise military
titles, and don't pretend to know them, I again demand the release of
those men. You'll be foolish to attempt to resist, for we've men enough
to tear you limb from limb, and jerk down the jail over your heads. Look
out for yourself. You can see that the courtyard is full of men. They
are determined\x97desperate, for they have groaned under the iron heel of
tyranny."

"O, cheese that stump-speech," said Si, weariedly. "'Taint in our
enlistment papers to have to listen to 'em. You've bin warnin', now I'll
do a little. I'll shoot the first man that attempts to enter this jail
till the Sheriff gits back. If you begin any shootin' we'll begin right
into your crowd, and we'll make you sick. There's some warnin' that
means somethin'."

"Your blood be on your own heads, then, you brass-button despots," said
the lawyer, retiring into the darkness and the crowd. He seemed to give
a signal, for a rocket shot up into the air, followed by wild yells from
the mob. The large wooden stable in the Courthouse yard burst into
flames, and the prisoners inside yelled viciously in response. There was
a fusillade of shots, apparently excited and aimless, for none of them
struck near.

"Don't fire, boys," said Si, walking around among his guards, "until
there is some reason for it. They'll probably try to make a rush and
batter down the jail door. We'll watch for that."

The glare of the burning building showed them preparing for that move. A
gang had torn off the heavy rail from the hitching-post on the outside
of the square, and were going to use it as a battering-ram. Then came
another kind of yell from farther away, and suddenly the mob began
running in wild confusion, while into the glare swept a line of
soldiers, charging with fixed bayonets.

"A train came in while I was at the depot," the Sheriff explained, as he
entered the office. "It had on it a regiment going home on veteran
furlough. I asked the Major in command to come over and help us. He and
his boys was only too glad for a chance to have some fun and stretch
their legs. They came off the cars with a whoop as soon's they knowed
what was wanted. Now, you boys kin go home and git a good night's sleep.
I'll take these prisoners along with the regiment over to the next
County seat, and keep 'em there till things cool down here. I'm awfully
obliged to you."

"Don't mention it. Glad to do a little thing like that for you any
time," responded Si, as he and Shorty shook hands with the Sheriff.

At the next corner, after leaving the Courthouse square, they met Maria
and Martha.

"I just couldn't stay in the house while this was goin' on," Maria
explained. "I had to come out and see. O, I'm so glad it's all over and
you're not hurt."

She caught Shorty's arm with a fervor that made him thrill all over.



CHAPTER XV. OFF FOR THE FRONT SI AND SHORTY TAKE CHARGE OF A SQUAD OF
RECRUITS.

WHEN the boys came to breakfast the next morning, they found Maria with
the hollyhock effulgence of garb of the day before changed to the usual
prim simplicity of her housedress. This meant admiration striking Shorty
still dumber. He was in that state of mind when every change in the
young woman's appearance seemed a marvelous transformation and made her
more captivating than before. He had thought her queenly dazzling in her
highly-colored "go-to-meeting" plumage of the day before. She was now
simply overpowering in her plain, close-fitting calico, that outlined
her superb bust and curves, with her hair combed smoothly back from her
bright, animated face. Shorty devoured her with his eyes\x97that is, when
she was not looking in his direction. He would rather watch her than eat
his breakfast, but when her glance turned toward him he would drop his
eyes to his plate. This became plain to everybody, even Maria, but did
not prevent her beginning to tease.

"What's the matter with you? Where's your appetite?" asked she. "You're
clean off your feed. You must be in love. Nothin' else'd make a man go
back on these slapjacks that Cousin Marthy made with her own hands, and
she kin beat the County on slapjacks. Mebbe you're thinkin' o' your Bad
Ax girl and her widower. Perk up. He may fall offen a saw-log and git
drowned, and you git her yit. Never kin tell. Life's mighty uncertain,
especially around saw-mills. When I marry a man he's got to give bonds
not to have anything to do, in no way or shape, with saw-mills. I don't
want to be a widder, or take care o' half a man for the rest o' my days.
You've got a chance to git your girl yit. Mebbe she'll git tired o' him
after he's bin run through the mill two or three times, and there's more
o' him in the graveyard than there is walkin' to church with her. Cheer
up."

Shorty tried to disprove the charge as to the subject of his thoughts by
falling to furiously and with such precipitation that he spilt his
coffee, upset the molasses-jug, and then collapsed in dismay at his
clumsiness.

Maria did not go free herself. The other girls had not been blind to
Shorty's condition of mind, and rather suspected that Maria was not
wholly indifferent to him. When she came into the kitchen for another
supply. Cousin Susie, younger sister of Martha, remarked:

"Maria, I've a notion to take your advice, and set my cap for Corpril
Shorty. Do you know, I think he's very good lookin'. He's a little rough
and clumsy, but a girl could take that out o' him. I believe I'll begin
right away. You stay in here and bake and I'll wait on the table."

"Don't be a little goose, Susie," said Maria severely. "You're too young
yit to think about beaux. You hain't got used to long dresses yit. You
go practice on boys in roundabouts awhile. This is a full-grown man and
a soldier. He hain't got no time to waste on schoolgirls."

"Ha, how you talk, Miss Jealousy," responded Susie. "How scared you are
lest I cut you out. I've a great mind to do it, just to show you I kin.
I'd like awfully to have a sweetheart down at the front, just to crow
over the rest o' the girls. Here, you take the turner and let me carry
that plate in."

"I'll do nothin' o' the kind," said Maria, decisively. "You look out for
your cakes there. They're burnin' while you're gossipin'. That's my
brother and his friend, and I hain't got but a short time to be with
'em. I may never see 'em agin, and I want to do all I kin for 'em while
they're with me."

"Too bad about your brother," laughed Susie. "How lovin' and attentive
all at once. I remember how you used to wig him without mercy at school,
and try to make him go off and take me home, instid o' taggin' along
after you, when that big-eyed school teacher that sung tenor'd be makin'
sheep's eyes at you in school, and wantin' to walk home with you in the
evenin'. I remember your slappin' Si for tellin' the folks at home about
the teacher and you takin' long walks at noon out to the honeysuckle
patch. I've a great mind to go in and tell it all to Si right before
that feller. Then your cake'll all be dough. Don't git too uppish with
me, young lady. Gi' me that plate and let me take it in."

The cakes on the griddles burned while Maria watched through the door
what she mentally described as the "arts and manuvers o' that sassy
little piece." She was gratified to see that Shorty's eyes kept glancing
at the door for her own reappearance. She carried in the next plate of
cakes herself, and though they were a little scorched, Shorty ate them
with more zest than any of their predecessors.

Si announced, as he shoved back from the table:

"Well, we've got to go right off. We must ketch that accommodation and
git back to Bean Blossom Crick. I want to say good-by to the folks, and
then strike out for Jeffersonville. I've reported that I'm able for
dooty agin, and there's orders at home for me and Shorty to go to
Jeffersonville and git a gang o' recruits that's bin gethered there, and
bring 'em to the rijimint."

Shorty had been in hopes that Si would dally for a day or so in these
pleasant pastures, but then he reflected that where Annabel was was
likely to be much more attractive to Si than where she was not.

"No need o' my goin' back with you," he ventured to suggest, speaking
for the first time. "I might take the train goin' East, and git things
in shape at Jeffersonville by the time you come."

Then his face grew hot with the thought that everyone saw through his
transparent scheme to get an hour or two more with Maria.

"No," said Si, decisively. "You'll go back with me. Father and mother
and 'Mandy are all anxious to see you, and they'll never forgive me if I
don't bring you back with me. Le's start."

If, at parting. Shorty had mustered up courage enough to look Maria
squarely in the eyes, he might have read something there to encourage
him, but no deeply-smitten man ever can do this. There is where the
"light o' loves" have the great advantage. He could only grip her hand
convulsively for an instant, and then turn and follow Si.

At the Deacon's home Shorty found the same quiet, warm welcome, with too
much tact on the part of anyone except little Sammy Woggles to make any
comment on the circumstances of his disappearance. Sammy was clearly of
the opinion that Si had run down Shorty and brought him back, and this
had the beneficial effect of dampening Sammy's runaway schemes. He was
also incensed at Shorty's perfidy in not sending him the rebel gun, and
thought that his being brought back was righteous retribution.

"Served you right, you black-hearted promise-breaker," he hissed at
Shorty when they found themselves momentarily alone. "I writ you that
letter, and it nearly killed me\x97brung me down with the measles, and you
never sent me that gun. But I'll foller yer trail till you do."

"Don't be a little fool, Sammy. You stay right here. You've got the best
home in the world here. If you do I'll send you your gun inside of a
month, with some real rebel catridges and a bayonet that's killed a man,
and a catridge-box with a belt that you kin carry your ammunition
in\x97that is, if you'll write me another letter, all about Maria."

"I won't write you a word about Maria," said the youth, seeing his
advantage, "onless you promise to send me a whole lot o' catridges\x97a
hatful. Powder and lead costs a heap o' money. And so do caps."

I'll Send You a Catridge and Cap for Every Word You Write About Maria.
213

"You shall have 'em. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll send you a
catridge and cap for every word you write about Maria."

"It's a go," said the delighted boy. "I'm goin' to learn someway to
write without bitin' my tongue, an' I'll write you as many words every
day as I want catridges to shoot off, so that I'll have enough for the
next Fourth o' July, and kill all old Pete Walker's snappin' dogs
besides."

The boys were to leave on the midnight train. The bigger part of Si's
leave-taking seemed to be outside of his family, for he quit the house
immediately after supper and did not leave Annabel's side until he had
just barely time to get back home, take leave of his weeping mother and
help store in the spring wagon more than he and Shorty could carry of
the good things she had provided for them.

"What's this?" said Si to Shorty the next day at Jeffersonville, when
they had reported to the Provost-Marshal, and had mustered before them
the squad of recruits that they were to conduct to their regiment. "Have
they bin roundin' up some country school-houses, and enlisted all the
boys that was in the fourth reader and Ray's arithmetic?"

"Seems like it," said Shorty, looking down the line of bright,
beardless, callow faces. "Some o' them don't look as if they'd got as
fur as the fourth reader. Ain't old enough to spell words o' more than
two syllables. What do they want with so many drummer-boys?"

"We aint no drummer-boys," said a bright-faced five-footer, who overhead
the question. "Nary drum for us. We haint got no ear for music. We're
regular soldiers, we are, and don't you forget it."

"But you ain't nigh 18," said Si, looking him over, pleased with the
boy's spirit.

"You bet I'm over 18," answered the boy. "I told the Mustering Officer I
was, and stuck to it in spite of him. There, you can see for yourself
that I am," and he turned up his foot so as to show a large 18 marked on
the sole of his shoe. "There, if that don't make me over 18, I'd like to
know what does," he added triumphantly, to the chorus of laughter from
his companions.

In the entire squad of 65 there were not more than half a dozen bearded
men. The rest were boys, all clearly under their majority, and many
seeming not over 15. There were tall, lathy boys, with tallowy faces;
there were short, stocky boys, with big legs and arms and fat faces as
red as ripe apples, and there were boys neither very fat nor very lean,
but active and sprightly as cats. They were in the majority. Long and
short, fat and lean, they were all bubbling over with animal spirits and
activity, and eager to get where they could see "real war."

"Say, mister," said the irrepressible five-footer, who had first spoken
to Si; "we've bin awful anxious for you to come and take us to our
regiment. We want to begin to be real soldiers."

"Well, my boy," said Si, with as much paternalism as if he had been a
grandfather, "you must begin right now, by actin' like a real soldier.
First, you mustn't call me mister. Mustn't call nobody mister in the
army. My name's Sergeant Klegg. This other man is Corporal Elliott, You
must always call us by those names, When you speak to either of us you
must take the position of a soldier\x97stand up straight, put your heels
together, turn your toes out, and salute, this way."

"Is this right?" asked the boy, carefully imitating Si.

"Yes, that's purty near right\x97very good for first attempt. Now, when I
speak to you, you salute and answer me. What is your name?"

"Henry Joslyn, sir."

"Well, Henry, you are now Private Joslyn, of the 200th Injianny
Volunteer Infantry. I can't tell what company you'll belong to till we
git to the rigimint, but I'll try to have you in Co. Q, my company."

"But when are we going to get our guns and knapsacks and things, and
start for the regiment?" persisted the eager boy, and the others joined
in the impatient inquiry.

"You won't git your guns and accourterments till you git to the
rigimint. As soon's I kin go over this roll and identify each one o'
you, I'll see what the orders is for starting."

"There goes some men for the ferry now. Why can't we go with them?"
persisted the boy.

"Private Joslyn," said Si, with some official sternness, "the first
thing a soldier's got to learn is to keep quiet and wait for orders. You
understand?"

"'Pears to me that there's a lot o' first things to learn," grumbled the
boy to the others, "and it's nothin' but wait, wait forever. The army'll
go off and leave us if we don't get down there purty soon."

"Don't worry, my boy, about the army goin' off and leavin' you," said
Shorty in a kindly way. "It'll wait. It kin be depended on for that.
Besides, it's got to wait for me and Sargint Klegg."

"That's so. Didn't think o' that," chorused the boys, to whose eyes the
two veterans seemed as important as Gens. Grant or Thomas.

"That's purty light material for serious bizniss, I'm afeared," said
Shorty to Si, as they stood a little apart for a moment and surveyed the
coltish boys, frisking around in their new blouses and pantaloons, which
fitted about like the traditional shirt on a bean-pole.

"I think they're just splendid," said Si, enthusiastically. "They'll
fill in the holes o' the old rigimint in great shape. They're as tough
as little wildcats; they'll obey orders and go wherever you send 'em,
and four out o' every five o' them kin knock over a crow at a hundred
yards with a squirrel rifle. But, Shorty," he added with a sudden
assumption of paternal dignity, "me and you's got to be fathers to them.
We've got a great responsibility for them. We must do the very best we
kin by 'em."

"That's so," said Shorty, catching at once the fatherly feeling. "I'll
punch the head off en the first sneezer that I ketch tryin' to impose on
'em."



CHAPTER XVI. THE TROUBLESOME BOYS SI AND SHORTY'S RECRUITS ENTER
KENTUCKY.

THE bright, active minds of the 65 boys that Si and Shorty were put in
charge of were aflame with curiosity regarding everything connected with
the war. For two years they had been fed on stories and incidents of the
mighty conflict then convulsing the land. Every breath they had drawn
had some taste of battle in it. Wherever they went or were they heard
incessantly of the storm-swept "front"\x97of terrific battles, perilous
adventures, heroic achievements, death, wounds and marvelous escapes.
The older boys were all at the front, or going there, or coming back
with heroic marks of shot and shell. The one burning aspiration in every
well-constructed boy's heart was to get big enough to crowd past the
recruiting officer, and go where he could see with his own eyes the
thunderous drama. There was concentrated all that fills a healthy boy's
imagination and stirs his blood\x97something greater than Indian-fighting,
or hunting lions and tigers. They looked on Si and Shorty with little
short of reverence. Here were two men who had captured a rebel flag in a
hand-to-hand fight, both of whom had been left for dead, and both
promoted for gallantry. What higher pinnacle of greatness could any boy
hope to reach?

They began at once seriously imitating the walk and manners of their
heroes. The tall, lank boys modeled themselves on Shorty, and the short,
chubby ones on Si. And there at once rose contention between them as to
which was the greater hero.

"I heard," said Henry Joslyn, "that Corpril Elliott was the first to
reach the rebel flag, he havin' much the longest legs, but jest as he
grabbed it a big rebel knocked him, and then they all piled on to him,
and about had him finished when Serg't Klegg reached there at a charge
bayonets, and he bayoneted everybody in sight, until a sharpshooter in a
tree shot him with an explosive bullet that tore his breast all to
pieces, but he kept right on bayonetin' 'em till he dropped from loss o'
blood. Then they fired a cannon at the sharpshooter and blowed him to
pieces just as you'd blow a chippy to pieces with a bullet from a bear-
gun."

"'Twan't that way at all," said tall, lathy Gid Mackall. "A whole lot of
'em made for the flag together. A charge o' grapeshot come along and
blowed the rest away, but Serg't Klegg and Corpril Elliott kep' right
on. Then Corpril Elliott he lit into the crowd o' rebels and laid a
swath right around him, while Sergint Klegg grabbed the flag. A rebel
Colonel shot him, but they couldn't stop Corpril Elliott till they shot
a brass six-pounder at him."

The boys stood on the banks of the Ohio River and gazed eagerly at the
other side. There was the enemy's country\x97there the theater in which the
great drama was being enacted. Everything there had a weird fascination
for them, as a part of, or accessory to, the stupendous play. It was
like peeping under the circus tent, when they were smaller, and catching
glimpses of the flying horses' feet.

And the questions they asked. Si had in a manner repelled them by his
curt treatment of Harry Joslyn, and his preoccupied air as he went back
and forth getting his orders and making preparations for starting. But
Shorty was in an affable mood, and by pleasantly answering a few of
their inquiries brought the whole fire of their questioning upon him.

"Are any o' them men you see over there guerrillas?" they asked.

"Mebbe," Shorty answered. "Kentucky's full of 'em. Mebbe they're
peaceable citizens, though."

"How kin you tell the guerrillas from the citizens?"

"By the way they shoot at you. The peaceable citizens don't shoot\x97at
least, in day time and out in the open. They lay for you with sole-
leather pies, and chuck-a-luck boards and 40-rod whisky, and aid. and
abet the Southern Confedrisy that way. They get away with more Union
soldiers than the guerrillas do. But you can never tell what an able-
bodied man in Kentucky'll do. He may lay for you all day with wildcat
whisky, at $5 a canteenful, to git money to buy ammunition to shoot at
you at night. He's surer o' gittin' you with a canteen o' never-miss
whisky, but there's more healthy excitement about shootin' at you from
behind a bank. And his pies is deadlier'n his apple-jack. A man kin git
over an apple-jack drunk, but Kentucky pies 's wuss'n nux vomica on
fish."

"Mustn't we eat none o' their pies?" asked the boys, with longing
remembrance of the fragrant products of their mothers' ovens.

"Nary a pie. If I ketch a boy eatin' a pie after we cross the river I'll
buck-and-gag him. Stick to plain hardtack and pork. You'll git to like
it better'n cake by and by. I eat it right along in preference to the
finest cake ever baked."

Shorty did not think it necessary to mention that this preference was
somewhat compulsory.

"Why don't you hunt down the guerrillas and kill 'em off and be done
with 'em?"

"You can't, very well. You see, guerrilain' is peculiar. There's
somethin' in the air and water down in Kentucky and Tennessee that
brings it on a man. You'll see a plain farmer man, jest like them around
your home, and he'll be all right, goin' about his place plowin' and
grubbin' sprouts and tendin' to his stock, and tellin' you all the time
how much he loves the Union and how he and his folks always bin for the
Union. Next thing you know he'll be out behind a cedar bush with a
shotgun loaded with slugs, waitin' to make a lead mine o' some feller
wearin' blue clothes. You see him before he does you, and he'll swear
that he was out after the crows that's bin pullin' up his corn. He'll
take' the oath of allegiance like it was a dram of old apple-jack, and
tears'll come into his eyes at the sight o' the Old Flag, which he and
his'n has always loved. He'll go ahead plowin' and grubbin' sprouts and
tendin' his cattle till the fit comes on him agin to go gunnin' for
bluecoats, and off he is, to go through the whole performance agin. You
kin never tell how long his loosid interval will last, nor when the
fit's comin' on him. Mebbe the changes o' the moon's somethin' to do
with it. Mebbe it's somethin' that they eat, like what the cattle eat
out West that makes 'em go crazy."

"Will the guerrillas begin shootin' at us as soon's we cross the river?"

"Can't tell. Guerrillas's like the nose-bleed\x97likely to come on you at
any time. They're jest where you find 'em\x97that's when they're jumpin'
you.. When they aint jumpin' you, they're lawabiding Union citizens,
entitled to the protection o' the laws and to draw rations from the
Commissary. To make no mistake, you want to play every man in citizen's
clothes south of the Ohio River for a rebel. And when you don't see him,
you want to be surer than ever, for then he's layin' for you."

Si came up at this moment with orders for them to pick up and go down to
the ferry, and the lively hustle shut off Shorty's stream of information
for the time being. The boys swarmed on to the bow of the ferry-boat,
where they could scrutinize and devour with eager eyes the fateful shore
of Kentucky.

"Don't look so very different from the Indiana side," said Harry Joslyn,
as they neared the wharf. "Same kind o' wharf-boats and same kind o' men
on 'em."

"That's because we've taken 'em and have our own men there," replied Gid
Mackall. "It'll all be different when we git ashore and further into the
State."

"Wasn't expecting nothing else," said Albert Grimes. "I've been watchin'
the Sargint and Corpril, and they're acting just as if it was every day
bizniss. I'm not going to expect anything till I see them lookin'
serious."

They landed and walked to the depot through the streets of Louisville,
which were also disappointingly like those they had seen elsewhere, with
the stores open and people going about their business, as if no shadow
of war brooded over the land. There were some more soldiers on the
streets, and a considerable portion of the vehicles were army wagons,
but this was all.

"When'll we see some rebels?" the boys asked.

"Don't be impatient," said a soldier on the sidewalk; "you'll see 'em
soon enough, and more'n you want to. You'll have to go a little further,
but you'll find the woods full of 'em. You'll be wishin' you was back
home in your little trundle-beds, where they ought've kept you."

"Shut up, you coffee-boiler," shouted Shorty, striding toward him.
"These boys 's goin' to the front, where you ought to be, and I won't
have you sayin' a word to discourage 'em."

"Too bad about discouraging 'em," laughed another, who had a juster
appreciation of the situation. "You couldn't discourage that drove of
kids with a hickory club."

After the train left Louisville it passed between two strong forts
bristling with heavy guns. Here was a reality of war, and the boys' tide
of questions became a torrent that for once overslaughed Shorty's fine
talent for fiction and misinformation.

"How many battles had been fought there?"

"How many Union soldiers had been killed?"

"How many rebels?"

"Where were they buried?"

"How big a ball did the guns shoot?"

"How far would it carry?"

"How many men would it kill if they were put one behind another?"

"How near would the guns come to hitting a man a mile off?"

"Could the gunner knock a man's head off, or one of his legs, just as he
pleased?"

"Were the guns rifled or smooth-bore?"

"How much powder did it take to load them?"

"How hard did they kick when they were fired?"

"Did they have flint-locks or caps?"

"Did they ever fire chain-shot, which would cut down trees and sweep
away companies of men?"

"If all the rest of the men were killed wouldn't the powder-monkey get a
chance to fire the gun?"

"Look here, boys," gasped Shorty, when he got a chance to answer, "I'd
like to answer your questions and fill you so plumb full o' information
that your hides'd crack to hold it. But I aint no complete history o'
the war with heavy artillery tactics bound up in one volume. All I know
is that the worst dose them forts ever give was to the fellers that had
to build 'em. After you've dug and shoveled and wheeled on one of 'em
for about a month you'll hate the very sight of 'em and never ask no
questions about 'em. All you'll want'll be to find and kill the feller
that invented them brick-red eruptions on the face o' the earth."

This was a prosaic side of the war that had not occurred to the boys.

'here, You Young Brats, What Are You up to 225

As the train ran out into the country there were plentiful signs of war
to rivet the attention of the youngsters\x97hospitals, with the emaciated
patients strolling feebly about; corrals of mules and horses, the waste
and wreckage where camps had been, and bridges which had been burned and
rebuilt.

"But we haint seen no guerrillas yit," said Harry Joslyn and Gid
Mackall, whose minds seemed more fascinated with that species of an
enemy than any other, and they apparently voiced the minds of the rest.
"When're we likely to see some guerrillas?"

"O, the guerrillas are layin' purty low now, betwixt here and
Nashville," Si carelessly explained. "After we pass Nashville you kin
begin to look out for 'em."

"Why," Gid Mackall complained to the rest of them, "Corpril Elliott said
that we could begin to look out for guerrillas jest as soon's we crossed
the Ohio\x97that the whole o' Kentucky was full of 'em. I believe Corpril
Elliott knows more about his business than Sargint Klegg. Sargint Klegg
seems careless like. I see lots o' fellers along the road in butternut
clothes that seemed savage and sneaky like. They looked at us in a way
that made me certain they wuz spying us, and had their guns hid away
somewhere, ready to jump us whenever there wuz a good chanst."

"So did I," chorused the others.

The train made a long stop on a switch and manuvered around a while,
taking on some cars found there, and Si and Shorty seeing nothing to do
went forward to another car, where they found some returning veterans,
and were soon absorbed in a game of seven-up. Shorty had just
successfully turned a jack from the bottom, and was snickering to
himself that his fingers had not lost their cunning by long idleness,
when the game was interrupted by a train-hand rushing up with the
information:

"Here, you fellers, you want to git out there and 'tend to them kids o'
your'n. They've got a couple o' citizens down there in the brush and I
believe are goin' to hang 'em."

Si and Shorty ran down in the direction indicated. They found the boys,
stern-eyed and resolute, surrounding two weak-eyed, trembling
"crackers," who had apparently come to the train with baskets of
leathery-crusted dried-apple pies for sale. The men were specimens of
the weak-minded, weak-bodied, lank-haired "po' white trash," but the
boys had sized them up on sight as dangerous spies and guerrillas, had
laid hands on them and dragged them down into the brush, where Gid
Mackall and Harry Joslyn were doing a fair reproduction of Williams,
Paulding and Van Wert searching Maj. Andre's clothes for incriminating
documents. They had the prisoners' hands tied behind them and their
ankles bound. So far they had discovered a clumsy brass-barreled pistol
and an ugly-looking spring dirk, which were sufficient to confirm the
dangerous character of the men. Two of the boys had secured ropes from
the train, which they were trying to fashion into hangman's nooses. Gid
and Harry finished a painstaking examination of the men's ragged jeans
vests, with a look of disappointment at finding nothing more inculpating
that some fishhooks, chunks of twist tobacco and cob-pipes.

"They must have 'em in their boots, boys. Pull 'em off," said Harry.
"There's where spies usually carry their most important papers."

"Here, you young brats, what are you up to?" demanded Si, striding in
among them.

"Why, Sargint," said Harry Joslyn, speaking as if confident of being
engaged in a praisworthy work, which should receive the commendation of
his superiors, "these're two spies and guerrillas that we ketched right
in the act, and we're searchin' 'em for evidence to hang 'em."

"Spies nothin'!" said Si. "Why, them fellers hain't brains enough to
tell a battery from a regiment, nor pluck enough to take a settin' hen
offen her nest. Let them go at once."

"Why, Corpril Elliott told us that every man in Kentucky, particularly
them what sold pies, wuz dangerous, and liable to go guerrillying at any
minute," said Harry in an aggrieved tone. "These fellers seemed to be
sneakin' down to find that we hadn't no guns and then jump us."

"Well, what I said wuz true on jineral principles," laughed Shorty. "But
there's occasionally exceptions to even what I tell you. These fellers
are as harmless as garter-snakes. Why didn't you come and speak to us?"

"Why, you shoved our car out there into the brush and went off and left
us. We thought we had to look out for ourselves," explained Harry.
"Can't we hang 'em, anyway?" he added in an appealing tone, and the rest
of the boys looked wistfully at Si for permission to proceed.

"No, you can't, I tell you. Turn 'em loose this minute, and give 'em
back their things, and go yourselves to your car. We're goin' to start
now. Here," he continued to the two men, "is a dollar. Take your pies
and dig out. Don't attempt to sell any o' them pies to these boys, or
I'll hang you myself, and there won't be no foolishness about it. Git
back to your car, boys."

"There won't be no hangin', and we won't git none o' the pies,"
complained the boys among themselves. "Sargint Klegg's gittin'
overbearin'. What'd he interfere for? Them fellers was guerrillas, as
sure as you're born, just as Corpril Elliott described 'em before we
crossed the river."



CHAPTER XVII. THE FRIGHTENED SURGEON SI AND SHORTY HAVE A TIME WITH
THEIR WILD, YOUNG SQUAD.

MUCH to their amazement, the boys waked up the next morning in
Nashville, and found that they had passed through the "dark and bloody
ground" of Kentucky absolutely without adventure.

"How in the world'd we ever git clean through the State without the
least bit o' trouble?" asked Harry Joslyn, as they stood together on the
platform awaiting the return of Si and Shorty, who had gone to see about
their breakfast. "It was fight from the word go with the other men from
the minute they struck Kentucky."

"Probably it was Corpril Elliott's good management," suggested Gid
Mackall, whose hero-worship of Shorty grew apace. "I tell you there aint
a trick o' soldierin' that he aint up to."

"Corpril Elliott's?" sneered Harry Joslyn. "You're just stuck on Corpril
Elliott. If it was anybody's good management it was Sargint Klegg's. I
tell you, he's the boss. He got shot through the breast, while Corpril
Elliott only got a crack over the head. That settles it as to who's the
best soldier. I'm kind o' sorry that we didn't have no trouble. Mebbe
the folks at home'll git the idea that we skulked and dodged."

"That's so," accorded the others, with a troubled look.

"But we are now in Tennessee," chirped in Gid Mackall hopefully. "That's
ever so much worse'n Kentucky. We must come to rebels purty soon now.
They won't let so many reinforcements git to Gen. Thomas if they kin
help it." And Gid looked around on his companions, as if he thought
their arrival would turn the scale and settle the fate of the
Confederacy. "They'll probably jump us just as soon as we leave town.
Them big forts on the hills mebbe keeps them outside now, but they're
layin' for us just beyond. Wonder if we'll git our guns here? Mebbe
that's what the Sargint and Corpril's gone for."

"They said they were going for our breakfast," said Harry. "And I hope
it's true, for I'm hungrier'n a rip-saw. But I could put off breakfast
for awhile, if they'd only bring us our guns. I hope they'll be nice
Springfield rifles that'll kill a man at a mile."

"'Tention!" commanded Si. "Fall in single rank 'cordin' to your size.
Tall boys on the right, short ones on the left, medium in the center.
Gid Mackall, you're the tallest. You can go there to the corner o' the
platform and let the others form on you."

Si stepped back into the shed to look after some matters.

Harry Joslyn whipped around and took his stand on the right of Gid
Mackall.

"Here," protested Gid; "Sargint Klegg told me to stand on the right.
You're smaller'n me. Git on the other side."

"I won't do it," answered Harry. "I've always stood ahead o' you in
school, ever since we were in the primer class, and I aint goin' to
stand behind you in the army. You needn't try to gouge me out o' my
rights because you're half-a-head taller. I'm two months older'n you,
and I can throw you in a wrastle every time."

"I tell you," said Gid, giving Harry an angry shove toward the left,
"that this is my place, and I'm goin' to stand here. The Sargint told me
to. Go down where you belong, you little rat."

The hot-headed Harry mixed up with him immediately, school-boy fashion.
Shorty rushed up and separated the two, giving Harry a sharp shake.
"Stop that, and go down to your place in the center," said he.

"Yes; you side with him," whimpered Harry, "because he praises you and
says you're a better soldier'n Sargint Klegg. I'm goin' to tell Sargint
Klegg that."

"Here," said Si, sternly, as he came back again. "What's all this row?
Why don't you boys fall in 'cordin' to size, as I told you?"

"Sargint," protested Harry, "Gid Mackall wants to stand at the head o'
the class. I'm older'n him, I can spell him down, and I can throw him
in\x97"

Si interrupted the appeal by taking Harry by the ear and marching him to
his place.

"Look here," he said, "when you git an order from anyone, don't give 'em
no back talk. That's the first thing you've got to learn, and the
earlier you learn it the less trouble you'll have. If you don't like it,
take it out in swearin' under your breath, but obey."

"But, Sargint, he said that Corpril Elliott was a better soldier'n"

"Silence in ranks," said Si, giving him a shake. "Right dress. Come out
in the center. Mackall, stand up straight there. Take that hump out o'
your shoulders. Put your heels together, all of you. Turn your toes out.
Put your little fingers down to the seams o' your pantaloons. Draw your
stomachs in. Throw your chests out. Hold your heads up. Keep your faces
straight to the front, and cast your eyes to the right until you kin see
the buttons on the breast o' the third man to your right. Come forward
until they're in line.

"Goodness," moaned some of the boys, as they were trying to obey what
seemed a' hopeless mass of directions, "do we have to do this every
mornin' before we kin have breakfast? We'll starve to death before we
git anything to eat. No use tellin' us to draw our stomachs in. They're
clean in to our backbones now."

"Mustn't talk in ranks, boys," Shorty kindly admonished. "It's strictly
agin' regulations. Straighten up, there, like soldiers, all o' you, and
git into a line. Looks like a ram's horn now. If the rebels'd shoot down
that line they wouldn't hit one o' you."

Jim Humphries, one of the medium-sized boys, suddenly turned as white as
a sheet and fell on the planks. One after another of those around him
did the same, until a half-dozen were lying there in a heap.

"What in the world's the matter?" asked Si, rushing up to them in
dismay.

"They're pizened, that's what they are," shouted Harry Joslyn. "That
guerrilla goin' over there pizened 'em. I saw him a-givin' 'em
something. He's tryin' to git away. Le's ketch him."

At the word the boys made a rush for the man who was quietly walking
off. As they ran they threw stones, which went with astonishing
precision and force. One of them struck the man on the head and felled
him. Then the boys jumped on him and began pounding and kicking him. Si
and Shorty came up, pushed off the boys and pulled the man to his feet.
He was terrified at the onset which had been made upon him, and could
not understand its reason.

"What've I done?" he gasped. "What're all yo'uns weltin' me for? I haint
no rebel. I've done tuk the oath of allegiance long ago."

"Now there'll be a hangin' sure," said Harry, in eager expectancy.

"What'd you do to them boys back there?" demanded Si.

"Didn't do nothin' to 'em. Sw'ar to God A'mighty I didn't."

"That telegraph pole will be just the thing to hang him on," suggested
Harry to Gid. "We could put him on a flat car and push the car out from
under him. I'll look around for a rope, Gid, and you git ready to climb
the pole."

"He did do something to 'em, Sargint," said Gid Mackall. "I seen him
givin' 'em something."

"'Twas only a little mite o' terbacker," the man explained. "They'uns
said they'uns was mouty hongry, and wanted t' know if I'd anything t'
eat. I hadn't nothing, but I done had a little terbacker, which I tole
'em'd take away the hongry feelin', and I gin each o' they'uns a lettle
chaw."

"I shouldn't wonder but he's tellin' the truth," Shorty whispered to Si.
"Le's take him back there and see."

Coming back to the platform they found the boys there recovering but
still very weak and pale. They confirmed the story about the tobacco.
Shorty examined the rest of the tobacco in the man's possession with the
practiced taste of a connoisseur, found it strong black plug, just the
thing to upset a green boy who took it on an empty stomach, cut off a
liberal chew for himself and dismissed the man with a kick.

"Now, le's form agin and march to breakfast. Great Scott, how hungry I
am," said Si. "'Tention. Fall in 'cordin' to size. Single rank."

"What's size got to do with gittin' breakfast?" complained Harry Joslyn,
who had another grievance, now that he had again been disappointed in
hanging a guerrilla. "Biggest boys'll git there first and get the most
to eat. The rest of us need just as much as they do."

"Silence in the ranks," commanded Shorty, snappishly. "Don't fool
around. Git into your place and stay there. We want breakfast some time
today."

Shorty lined up the boys in a hurry and Si commanded.

"Right dress! Come out a little there on the left! Steady! Without
doublin', right face!"

A squad of Provost-Guards came up at a double-quick, deployed,
surrounded the squad and began bunching the boys together rather
roughly, using the butts of their muskets.

"What does this mean?" Si asked angrily of the Lieutenant in command.

"It means that you and your precious gang have to go down to Provo'
Headquarters at once," answered the Lieutenant. "And no words about it.
Forward, march, now."

"But you've got no business to interfere with me," protested Si. "I've
got my orders to take this squad o' recruits to my regiment, and I'm
doin' it. I'm goin' to put 'em on the cars as soon's I kin git breakfast
for 'em, and start for Chattanoogy."

"Well, why didn't you get breakfast for them and put them on the cars
peaceably and quietly, without letting them riot around and kill
citizens and do all manner of devilment. You have a fine account to
settle."

"But they haint killed no citizen. They haint bin riotin' around, and I
ain't a-goin' with you. You've no right, I tell you, to interfere with
me."

"Well, you just will go with me, and no more chinning."

A Major, attracted by the altercation, rode up and asked what was the
matter.

"Word came to Headquarters," explained the Lieutenant, "that a squad of
recruits were rioting, and had killed a citizen, and I was sent down
here on the run to stop it and arrest the men. This Sergeant, who seems
to be in command, refuses to go with me."

"I tell you, Major," said Si, who recognized the officer as belonging to
his brigade, "there was nobody killed, or even badly hurt. These little
roosters got up a school-yard scrap all about a mistake; it was all over
in a minute. There's the man they say was killed, settin' over there on
that pile o' lumber smokin' his pipe."

"You're Si Klegg, aren't you, of the 200th Ind.?" asked the Major.

"Yes, Major," answered Si, saluting. "And you're Maj. Tomlinson, of the
1st Oshkosh. This is my pardner. Shorty."

"Glad to see you with Sergeant's stripes on," said the Major, shaking
hands with him. "I congratulate you on your promotion. You deserved it,
I know."

"So did Shorty," added Si, determined that his partner should not lack
full measure of recognition.

"Yes, I congratulate Shorty, too. Lieutenant, I know these men, and they
are all right. There has been a mistake. You can take your men back to
Headquarters."

"'Tention," commanded the Lieutenant. "Get into line! Right dress!
Front! Right face! Forward, file left\x97march!"

"'Tention," commanded Si. "Fall in in single ranks, 'cordin' to size. Be
mighty spry about it. Right dress! Count off in whole numbers."

Another Provost squad came double-quicking up, followed by some
ambulances. Again the boys were hurriedly bunched up. The Provost squad,
however, did not seem to want to come to as close quarters as the other
had. They held back noticeably.

"Now, what in thunder does this mean?" asked Si with angry impatience.
"What's up now?"

"Sergeant, are you in command of this squad?" asked a brisk little man
with the green stripes of a Surgeon, who got out of one of the
ambulances.

"Yes, I am," said Si, saluting as stiffly as he dared. "What's the
matter?"

"Well, get those men of yours that are down into the ambulances as
quickly as you can, and form those that are able to walk close behind.
Be on the jump, because the consequences of your staying here may be
serious to the army. How are you feeling yourself? Got any fever? Let me
see your tongue."

"What in the world's the matter with you?" asked Si in bewilderment.

"Come, don't waste any time asking questions," answered the nervous
little Surgeon. "There's more troops coming right along, and we mustn't
take any chances of their catching it."

"Ketch what? Great grief, ketch what?" groaned Si. "They've already
ketched everything in this mortal world that was ketchable. Now what are
they goin' to ketch?"

"Why, the smallpox, you dumby," said the Surgeon irritably. "Don't you
know that we are terribly afraid of a visitation of smallpox to the
army? They've been having it very bad in some places up North, and we've
been watching every squad of recruits from up there like hawks. A man
came down to Hospital Headquarters just now and reported that a dozen of
your boys had dropped right on the platform. He said that he knew you,
and you came from a place in Indiana that's being swept by the
smallpox."

Smallpox, Your Granny, Said si 237

"Smallpox, your granny," said Si wrathfully. "There haint bin no
smallpox in our neighborhood since the battle o' Tippecanoe. The only
man there who ever had it fit in the battle under Gen. Harrison. He had
it when he was a child, and was so old that the pockmarks on him wuz
wore so smooth you could scarcely see 'em. Our neighborhood's so healthy
you can't even have a square case o' measles. Gosh darn it," Si
exploded, "what glandered fool was it that couldn't tell 'backer-sick
from smallpox? What locoed calves have you runnin' up to your
Headquarters bawlin' reports?"

"Sir," said the Surgeon stiffly, "you forget that you are speaking to
your superior officer."

"Excuse me. Doctor," said Si, recovering himself and saluting. "I'm very
hungry, and worried to death with these frisky kids that I'm trying to
git to my regiment. The only trouble is that some of the trundle-bed
graduates took their first chaw o' terbacker this mornin' on empty
stomachs and it keeled 'em over. Come here and look at 'em yourself.
You'll see it in a minute."

"Certainly. I see it very plainly," said the Surgeon, after looking them
over. "Very absurd to start such a report, but we are quite nervous on
the subject of smallpox getting down to the army.

"Take your men in and give them their breakfast, Sergeant, and they'll
be all right.

"That's what I've bin tryin' to do for the last two hours," said Si, as
he saluted the Surgeon, departing with his ambulances and men.
"'Tention. Confound you, fall in in single rank, 'cordin' to size, and
do it in short meter, before anything else happens. Right dress! Front!
Without doublin', right face! Great Scott, what's the matter with you
roosters? Don't you know your right hands from your lefts? Turn around
there, you moon-eyed goshngs! Forward\x97file right\x97march!"

"Here, Sergeant," said a large man with three chevrons on his arm. "I
want to halt your men till I look 'em over. Somebody's gone through a
sutler's car over there on the other track and I think it was your
crowd. I want to find out."

"Halt nothin'," said Si, brushing him out of the way. "I'm goin' to git
these youngsters their breakfast before there's a tornado or an
earthquake. Go 'way, if you know what's good for you."



CHAPTER XVIII. NO PEACE FOR SI AND SHORTY THE YOUNGSTERS KEEP THEM BUSY
WHILE THE TRAIN MOVES SOUTH.

THE long fast had sharpened the zest the boys had for their first
"soldier-breakfast." Until they got down to "real soldier-living" they
could not feel that they were actually in the service. To have this
formal initiation in the historic city of Nashville, far in the interior
of the Southern Confederacy, was an exhiliarating event. The coarse fare
became viands of rare appetency.

"Gracious, how good these beans taste," murmured Harry Joslyn, calling
for a second plateful; "never knowed beans to taste so good before.
Wonder how they cook 'em? We'll have to learn how, Gid, so's to cook 'em
for ourselves, and when we git back home won't we astonish our mothers
and sisters?"

"And sich coffee," echoed Gid. "I'll never drink cream in my coffee
agin. I hadn't no idee cream spiled coffee so. Why, this coffee's the
best stuff I ever drunk. Beats maple sap, or cider through a straw, all
holler. That's good enough for boys. This 's what men and soldiers
drink."

"You know those old gods and goddesses," put in Montmorency Scruggs, a
pale, studious boy, for shortness called "Monty," and who had a great
likeness for ancient history and expected to be a lawyer, "drunk what
they called nectar. Maybe it was something like this."

"But we haven't had any hardtack yet," complained Albert Russell, a
youth somewhat finicky as to dress, and who had ambitions of becoming a
doctor. "They've only given us baker's bread, same as we got on the
other side of the river, only better-tasting. Why don't they give us
real soldier bread? I've heard Uncle Bob laugh at the 'soft-bread
snoozers,' who never got near enough the front to know the taste of
hardtack."

"Well, I'm going to eat all I can of it while I can get it," said little
Pete Skidmore, the youngest and smallest of the lot, who had only passed
the Mustering Officer by exhibiting such a vehement desire to enter the
service as to make up for his probable lack of years and quite evident
lack of inches. "I've heard Uncle Will say that he was always mighty
glad to get back where he could get soft bread for a change, after he'd
worn his grinders down to the quick chawing hardtack. It tastes awful
good, anyway."

"The Government must pay big wages to the men it hires to do its
cooking," philosophized Harry Joslyn, "same as it does to its lawyers
and Congressmen and Generals. No common men could cook grub that way.
Mebbe it took the cooks away from the Astor House and Delmonico's."

"The boys are certainly making up for lost time," complacently remarked
Shorty, as, having taken off the edge of his own hunger with a plateful
of pork-and-beans and a half loaf of bread, he stopped for a moment to
survey the havoc that his young charges, ranged at a long, rough
counter, were making in the Commissary stores. "They're eatin' as if
this was the last square meal they expected to git till the rebellion's
put down."

"Yes," laughed Si, emptying his second cup of coffee, "I used to think
that we had appetites that'd browse a five-acre lot off clean every
meal, but these kids kin distance us. If they live off the country its
bones 'll be picked mighty white when they pass. That lean, lank Gid
Mackall seems to be as holler as a sassidge-skin. Even that wouldn't
give room for all that he's stowin' away."

"Harry Joslyn 's runnin' nose-and-nose with him. There ain't the width
o' their forelocks difference. Harry's yelled for more beans at the same
second that Gid has. In fact, not one of 'em has lagged. They're a great
gang, I tell you, but I wouldn't want to board any one of 'em for six
bits a week."

Maj. Oglesvie came up.

"Serg't Klegg," said he, "the Quartermaster says that he's got a train
load of ammunition to send forward, but he's scarce of guards. I thought
of your squad. Don't you think you could take charge of it? I don't
imagine there is much need of a guard, for things have been pretty quiet
down the road for some weeks. Still, it isn't right to send off so
important a train without any protection."

"Only be too glad of the dooty, sir," answered Si, saluting. "It'll give
the boys something to think of besides hanging guerrillas. Besides,
they're just crazy to git hold o' guns. Where kin I git muskets for
'em?"

"March them right over to that shed there," said the Major, "and the
Quartermaster will issue them muskets and equipments, which you can turn
over again when you reach Chattanooga. Good-by. I hope you'll have a
pleasant trip. Remember me to the boys of the old brigade and tell them
I'll be with them before they start out for Atlanta."

"Purty slouchy bizniss that, givin' these kids guns before they've had
any drill at all\x97don't know even the facin's, let alone the manual of
arms," remarked Shorty doubtfully, as they marched over to the shed.
"They'll be shooting holes through each others' heads and the tops o'
the cars, and'll waste more ammynition than a six-mule team kin haul.
They'll make a regler Fourth o' July from here to Chattynoogy."

"Don't be worried about them boys," Si reassured him. "Every one of 'em
is used to handlin' guns. Then, we kin keep the catridges ourselves and
not issue any till they're needed, which they mayn't be."

The boys were in a buzz of delight at getting the guns they had so
longed for, and Si's first duty was to end an exuberant bayonet fencing
match between Gid and Harry which was imitated all along the line.

"Stop that," he called. "Put your minds to learnin' to load and shoot
first. It'll be some time before you git a chance to prod a rebel with a
bayonet. Rebels are as wild as crows. You'll be lucky to git as close to
'em as the other side of a 40-acre field."

"But s'posin' a rebel runs at you with his bayonet," expostulated Harry
Joslyn, "oughtn't you to know how to ward him off and settle him?"

"The best way's to settle him jest as he comes over the hill, half-a-
mile away, with an ounce o' cold lead put where he lives. That'll take
the pint offen his bayonet mighty certainly."

Si and Shorty showed the boys how to put on the belts carrying the cap-
and cartridge-boxes, and gave them a little dumb-show instruction in
loading and firing, ending with exhibiting to them a cartridge, and the
method of tearing it with the teeth and putting it in the gun.

"Now give us some catridges," clamored the boys, "and let us do some
real shooting."

"No," said Si; "we'll keep the catridges ourselves, and issue them to
you when the enemy comes in sight."

"Nice time to give out catridges then," grumbled Harry Joslyn. "When we
see the rebels we want to begin shootin' instid o' botherin' you with
questions. You wouldn't kill many coons if you had to run back to the
house for your powder and lead after you saw the coon before you could
shoot him."

"Well, you can't have no catridges now," said Si decisively. "We're not
likely to see any coons before we git to Murfreesboro. Then we'll see
how things look further down the road. Take off your bayonets, all o'
you, and pile into them rear cars there. Stow yourselves around and be
as comfortable as you kin."

The boys preferred the tops of the cars to the inside, and scattered
themselves along the length of the train to view the war-worn country of
which they had heard so much from their relatives who had campaigned
there. Si settled himself down in the car to read the morning papers
which he had gotten in Nashville, and Shorty, producing a pack of new
cards, began a studious practice, with reference to future operations in
Chattanooga.

The train was slowing down for the bridge near Lavergne, when there came
a single shot, followed by a splutter of them and loud yells.

There Was a Chorus of Yells, and then Another Volley. 247

Exceedingly startled, Si and Shorty sprang up, seized their guns,
bounded to the door and looked out. They could see nothing to justify
the alarm. There was not a rebel, mounted or unmounted, in sight. In the
road below were two or three army teams dragging their slow way along,
with their drivers yelling and laughing at a negro, whose mule was
careering wildly across the fenceless field. The negro had been
apparently jogging along, with a collection of plunder he had picked up
in an abandoned camp strung upon his mule, when the latter had become
alarmed at the firing and scattered his burden in every direction. The
rider was succeeding in holding on by clinging desperately to the mule's
neck.

Si set his gun down and clambered up the side of the car.

"What's all that shootin' about?" he demanded of Harry Joslyn.

"I didn't mean it, sir," Harry explained. "I was just aiming my gun at
things I see along the road\x97just trying the sights like. A turkey-
buzzard lighted on a stump out there, and I guess I must have forgot
myself and cocked my gun, for it went off. Then Gid, seeing me miss,
tried to show he was a better shot, and he banged away and missed, too,
and then the other boys, they had to try their hands, and they belted
away, one after another, and they all missed. I guess we didn't count as
we ougther've done on the goin' forward o' the train, because we all
struck much nearer than we expected to that nigger on a mule, and scared
his mule nigh out o' his skin. We really didn't intend no harm."

"Where did you git catridges?" demanded Si.

"Why, that box that Alf Russell got was half full. He tried to keep 'em
all hisself, and intended to shoot 'em off, one by one, to make the rest
of us envious. Alf always was a pig in school, and never would divide
his apples or doughnuts with the other boys. But we see them almost as
quick as he did, an' Gid and me set down on him suddently, as he was
lying on the roof, and took away all his catridges, and give 'em around
to the rest o' the boys, one a-piece."

"Are they all gone now?"

"Yes, sir; every one shot away," answered Harry regretfully.

Si looked through several of the boxes and at some of the guns to assure
himself of this. He gave those near him a lecture on their offense, and
then climbed down into the car and resumed his paper, while Shorty was
soon immersed again in the abstruse study of the relation of the cross-
barred designs on the back of the cards to the numbers and suits of
their faces.

They had passed Lavergne, and were approaching Stewart's Creek, when
another startling rattle of musketry broke out, this time from the
forepart of the train.

"Now, great Scott, what's up?" said Si angrily, as he quickly surveyed
the surrounding country. He saw that they were not attacked, and then
clambered to the top of the car, where he noticed little wreaths of
powder-smoke lingering around the squad in which were Jim Humphreys,
little Pete Skidmore and Wes. Brown.

"What're you young whelps shootin' for?" demanded Si. They were all so
abashed at his sternness that they could not find their tongues for
reply, until little Pete piped up:

"Why we've bin talkin' to the train men, and they said they wuz shot at
wunst, about a year ago, from that swamp back there, and we got some
catridges from them, and we thought we saw something moving in there,
though Jim Humphreys said it wuz only burned stumps that we took for
men, and them other boys back there had bin shootin' off their gunn and
tryin' 'em, and we thought we could too\x97"

"You little brats," said Si; "didn't you hear my orders about firin'
before we started? If another boy shoots without my orders I'll tie him
up by the thumbs! Got any more catridges? Give me every one of 'em."

The boys all protested that every cartridge was gone. Si assured himself
of this by examination, savagely scored the train men for giving them
ammunition and threatened trouble if any more was, and having relieved
his mind returned to his paper in the caboose-car.

The train ran on to a switch where there was another carrying a regiment
going home on veteran furlough. Si and Shorty knew some of the men, and
in the pleasure of meeting them and in hearing all the news from the
front forgot that their boys were mingling with the others and being
filled full of the preposterous stories with which veterans delight to
stuff new recruits. Finally the whistles gave notice that the trains
would move. Si got his boys back on the cars, and renewing his caution
about taking care of themselves, holding on tightly and looking out for
overhanging branches, returned with Shorty to their car and their
occupations.

"We're comin' to Stewart's Crick, Shorty," said Si, looking up from his
paper. "Recollect that hill ovyr there? That's where they had that
battery that the Colonel thought we wuz goin' to git. Great Scott, the
mud and briars in that old field!" "Yes," said Shorty, negligently, with
his eyes fixed on the backs of the cards. "But that's ancient history.
Say, I've got these marks down fine at last. They're just as plain as A,
B, C. You see, when that corner o' the square comes out clear to the
edge it's clubs, every time, and there's just as many spots as there is
of lines\x97"

He was interrupted by a volley, apparently from every gun on the roofs
of the cars. Then a chorus of shrill, treble, boyish yells, and next
instant another volley. The two sprang to the door and looked out. Not a
sign of a rebel anywhere. Si went up one side of the car, Shorty the
other. They ran along the tops of the cars, storming at the boys,
kicking them and bumping their heads against the boards to make them
stop. When they succeeded Si sternly ordered every one of them to leave
the roofs and come down into the cars. When he had gathered them there
he demanded:

"Now, I want to know at once what this means?" Little Pete Skidmore
again became the spokesman of the abashed crowd.

"Why, them men back there on the switch cautioned us above all things
not to let the rebels git the drop on us when we come to that crick;
that we wouldn't see nothin' of 'em\x97nothin' but a low bank, behind which
they wuz hid, with their guns pokin' through the brush, but the moment
we see the bank breastwork throwed up along the crick we must let into
it. That's what it's for. The rebels throwed it up to hide behind. Them
men said that the brush back there was as full o' rebels as a hound o'
fleas, and that we must let into 'em the moment we see the bank, or
they'd git the drop on us. They had an awful time there theirselves, and
they gave us all the catridges they had left for us to use."

"You little numbskulls," said Si; "why didn't you come to use and tell
us about this?"

"They told us to be partickeler and say nothin' to you. Your stayin'
back there in the car showed that you didn't know nothin' about it; you
hadn't bin down this way for a long time and wasn't up to the latest
improvements, and you wuz jest as like as not to run us into a hornets'
nest; that you wuzzent our real officers, anyway, and it didn't much
matter to you what happened to us."

"Our own sins are comin' back on us. Shorty," remarked Si. "This is a
judgment on you for the way you've filled up recruits at every chance
you got."

"'Taint on me," said Shorty, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm not in
command. You are."

"I shall be mighty glad when we git this outfit to Chattanoogy," sighed
Si. "I'm gittin' older every minute that I have 'em on my hands."



CHAPTER XIX. THE FIRST SCRAPE A LITTLE INITIATORY SKIRMISH WITH THE
GUERRILLAS.

THE train passed Shelbyville in the course of the afternoon and halted
on a switch. Tired of reading, Si was standing at the door of the car,
looking out over the country and trying to identify places they had
passed or camped at during the campaign of the previous Summer. Suddenly
his far-seeing eyes became fixed on the intervals in the trees on the
farthest hill-top. Without turning his head he called Shorty in a tone
which made that worthy lose all interest in his inevitable pack of cards
and spring to his side. Without speaking, Si pointed to the sky-line of
the eminence, against which moving figures sketched themselves.

"Guerrillas," said Shorty.

Si nodded affirmatively.

"Skeetin' acrost the country to jump this train or some other,"
continued Shorty.

"This one, most likely," answered Si.

"Yes," accorded Shorty, with an estimating glance at the direction of
the range of hills, "and'll aim at strikin' us at some bridge or deep
cut about 10 miles from here."

"Where we'll probably git sometime after dark," assented Si.

"Yes. Let's talk to the conductor and engineer."

The train had started in the meanwhile, but presently the conductor came
back into the caboose. He had been a soldier, but so severely wounded as
to necessitate his discharge as incapable of further field service.

"I hardly think there's any danger," said Conductor Madden. "Things 've
been very quiet this side of the Tennessee River ever since last
October, when Crook, Wilder and Minty belted the life out of old Joe
Wheeler down there at Farmington and Rodgersville. Our cavalry gave
theirs an awful mauling, and them that were lucky enough to escape
acrost the river have seemed purty well satisfied to stay on that side.
A hell's mint of 'em were drowned trying to get acrost the river. Our
cavalry's been patrolling the country ever since, but hasn't seen
anything of consequence. Still, it is possible that some gang has
managed to sneak acrost a blind-ford somewhere, and in hopes to catch a
train. Guerrillas are always where you find 'em."

"Well, I'll bet a hatful o' red apples," said Si, "that them was
guerrillas that we saw, and they're makin' for this train. The rebels in
Nashville somehow got information to 'em about it."

"Them's guerrillas," affirmed Shorty, "sure's the right bower takes the
left. None o' our cavalry's stringin' around over the hill-tops. Then, I
made out some white horses, which our cavalry don't have. It's just as
Si says, them Nashville spies 's put the rebel cavalry onto us."

"Them cowardly, sneaking, death-deserving rebels in Nashville," broke
out Conductor Madden, with a torrent of oaths. "Every man in Nashville
that wears citizen's clothes ought to be hung on sight, and half the
women. They don't do nothing but lay around and take the oath of
allegiance, watch every move we make like a cat does a mouse, and send
information through the lines. You can't draw a ration of hardtack but
they know it, and they're looking down your throat while you're eating
it. They haint got the gravel in their craws to go out and fight
themselves, and yet they've cost us a hundred times as many lives as if
they had. Why does the General allow them to stay there? He ought to
order rocks tied to the necks of every blasted one of 'em and fling 'em
into the Cumberland River and then pour turpentine on the infernal old
town and touch a match to it. That's what I'd do if I had my way.
There's more, brimstone trouble to the acre in Nashville than in any
town on the footstool, not barring even Richmond."

"Nashville certainly is tough," sighed Shorty. "'Specially in gamblers.
Worst tin-horn crowd that ever fumbled a deck or skinned a greeny out o'
the last cent o' his bounty. Say, Si, do you remember that tin-horny
that I cleaned out o' his whole pile down there at Murfreesboro, with
them cards that I'd clipped with a pair o' scissors, so's I'd know 'em
by the feel, and he never ketched on till his last shinplaster was gone,
and then I throwed the pack in the fire? Well, I seen him down there at
the depot smellin' around for suckers. I told him to let our boys alone
or I'd snap his neck off short. Great Jehosephat, but I wanted a chance
to git up town and give some o' them cold-deckers a whirl."

"Well," said Conductor Madden, after some deliberation, "I believe what
you boys say. You're not the kind to get rattled and make rebels out of
cedar-bushes. All the same, there's nothing to do but go ahead. My
orders were to take this train through to Chattanooga as quick as I
could. I can't stop on a suspicion."

"No, indeed," assented Si and Shorty.

"There's no place to telegraph from till we get to Bridgeport, on the
Tennessee, and if we could telegraph they wouldn't pay any attention to
mere reports of having seen rebels at a distance. They want something
more substantial than that."

"Of course they do, and very properly," said Si. "Is your engineer all
right?"

"Game as they make 'em, and loyal as Abraham Lincoln himself," responded
the conductor.

"Well, I believe our boys 's all right. They're green, and they're
friskier than colts in a clover field, but they're all good stuff, and I
believe we kin stand off any ordinary gang o' guerrillas. I'll chance
it, anyhow. This's a mighty valuable train to risk, but it ought to go
through, for we don't know how badly they may need it. You tell your
engineer to go ahead carefully and give two long whistles if he sees
anything dangerous."

"I'll go and git onto the engine with him," said Shorty.

"Wait a little," said Si. "We'll get the boys together, issue 'em
catridges and give 'em a little preparation for a light, if we're to
have one."

The sun had gone down and the night was at hand. The train had stopped
to take on a supply of wood from a pile by the roadside. Some of the
boys were helping pitch the heavy sticks onto the engine, the rest ware
skylarking along the tops of the cars in the irrepressible exuberance of
animal spirits of boys who had had plenty to eat and were without a care
in the world. Harry Joslyn had been giving exhibitions of standing on
his head on the runningboard. Gid Mackall had converted a piece of rope
he had picked up into a lasso, and was trying to imitate the feats he
had seen performed at the last circus. Monty Scruggs, the incipient
lawyer, who was proud of his elocutionary talents, had vociferated at
the woods they were passing, "Rienzi's Address to the Romans," "The Last
Sigh of the Moor," "Absalom," "The Battle of Waterloo," and similar
staples of Friday afternoon recitations. Alf Russell, the embryonic
doctor, who sang a fine tenor, was rendering "Lily Dale" with much
impressment, and little Pete Skidmore was "skipping" the flat hill-
stones over an adjacent pond.

"'Tention!" shouted Si.

There was something so different in the tone from that in which Si had
before spoken, that it arrested the attention of every one of them
instantly.

"Git your guns and fall in two ranks on that sod, there, at once,"
commanded Si, in quick, curt accents.

An impalpable something in the tones and words stilled everybody into
seriousness. This was deepened by the look they saw on Si's face.

They snatched up their guns and hurried into line on the spot indicated,
looking into each other's countenances and into that of Si's for an
explanation of what was up.

"Mackall and Joslyn," called Shorty from the car, "come here and take
this box of catridges."

"Now," said Si, as they did this, "Joslyn, you and Mackall issue those
to the boys. One of you walk down in front and the other behind and give
each man two packages of catridges. You boys open the packages and put
the catridges in your catridgeboxes, bullet-end up, and the caps in your
capboxes."

The boys followed his directions with nervous eagerness, inspired by his
words and manner, and then fixed their anxious gaze upon him for further
impartment.

Si walked down in front, in the rear of the line, superintending the
operation.

"Now, boys," said Si, taking his place in front and facing them, "you've
bin talkin' about guerrillas ever since we crossed the Ohio, but now
there's a prospect o' meetin' some. I hadn't expected to see any till
after we'd reached Chattanoogy, but guerrillas's never where you expect
'em."

"Knowin' you was so anxious to see 'em, they've come up the road to meet
you," interjected Shorty.

"It looks," continued Si, "as if they'd got news of the train and
slipped out here to take it away from us. They may attack it at any
minute after we start agin. Now, we mustn't let 'em git it. It's too
valuable to the Government to lose and too valuable to them to git. We
mustn't let 'em have it, I tell you. Now, I want you to load your guns
carefully, handle 'em very carefully after they are loaded, git back in
the cars, stop skylarkin', keep very quiet, listen for orders, and when
you git 'em, obey 'em to the letter\x97no more, no less."

Watching the Bridge Burners at Work 259

"Can't we go back on top o' the cars, where we kin watch for 'em, and
git the first pop at 'em?" said Harry Joslyn, in a pleading tone.

"No; that's too dangerous, and you'll lose time in gittin' together,"
answered Si. "You must all come into the cars with me."

"Sergeant," said Shorty, "let me have a couple to go on the engine with
me."

"Le' me go. Le' me go," they all seemed to shout at once, holding up
their hands in eager school-boy fashion.

"I can't take but two o' you," said Shorty; "more'd be in the way."

They all pressed forward. "Count out. That's the only fair way," shouted
the boys in the center.

"That's so," said Harry Joslyn. "Stand still till I count. Imry, Ory,
Ickery, Ann, Quevy, Quavy, Irish Navy, Filleson, Folleson,
Nicholas\x97Buck! That's me. I'm it!"

He rapidly repeated the magic formula, and pronounced Gid Mackall "it."

"He didn't count fair! He didn't count fair! He never counts fair,"
protested the others; but Si hustled them into the cars and the train
started.

It had grown quite dark. The boys sat silent and anxiously expectant on
their seats, clutching their loaded guns, held stiffly upright, and
watching Si's face as well as they could by the dim light of the single
oil lamp. Si leaned against the side of the door and watched intently.

Only little Pete Skidmore was unrepressed by the gravity of the
situation. Rather, it seemed to spur his feet, his hands and his mouth
to nimbler activity. He was everywhere\x97at one moment by Si's side in the
door of the car, at the next climbing up to peer out of the window; and
then clambering to the top of the car, seeing legions of guerrillas in
the bushes, until sternly ordered back by Si. Then he would drop the
butt of his musket on the floor with a crash which would start every one
of the taut nerves to throbbing. And the questions that he asked:

"Say, Sergeant, will the guerrillas holler before they shoot, or shoot
before they holler?"

"Sometimes one and sometimes the other," responded Si, absently. "Keep
quiet, Pete."

Quiet for a minute, and then:

"Shall we holler before we shoot or shoot before we holler?"

"Neither. Keep perfectly quiet, and 'tend strictly to your little
business."

"I think we ought to holler some. Makes it livelier. What sort o' guns
has the guerrillas?"

"Every kind\x97shot-guns, pistols, rifles, flint-locks, cap-locks\x97every
kind. Now, you mustn't ask me any more questions. Don't bother me."

"Yes, sir; I won't."

Quiet for at least five seconds. Then:

"Have the guerrillas guns that'll shoot through the sides of the cars?"

"Probably."

"Then I'd ruther be on top, where I kin see something. Kin they shoot
through the sides o' the tender, and let all the water out and stop the
engine?"

"Guess not."

"Haven't they any real big guns that will?"

"Mebbe."

"Kin we plug up the holes, anyway, then, and start agin?"

"Probably."

"Hain't the engineer got an iron shield that he kin git behind, so they
can't shoot him?"

"Can't he turn the steam onto 'em, and scald 'em if they try to git at
him?"

"What'll happen if they shoot the head-light out?"

"Why wouldn't it be a good idee to put a lot o' us on the cow-ketcher,
with fixed bayonets, and then let the engineer crack on a full head o'
steam and run us right into 'em?"

"Great Scott, Pete, you must stop askin' questions," said Si
desperately. "Don't you see Pm busy?"

Pete was silent for another minute. Then he could hold in no longer:

"Sergeant, jest one question more, and then I'll keep quiet."

"Well, what is it?"

"If the rebels shoot the bell, won't it make a noise that they kin hear
clear back at Nashville?"

The engine suddenly stopped, and gave two long whistles. Above the
screech they heard shots from Shorty and the two boys with him.

"Here they are, boys," said Si, springing out and running up the bank.
"All out, boys. Come up here and form."

As he reached the top of the bank a yell and a volley came from the
other side of the creek. Shorty joined him at once, bringing the two
boys on the engine with him.

"We've bin runnin' through this deep cut," he explained, "and jest come
out onto the approach to the bridge, when we see a little fire away
ahead, and the head-light showed some men runnin' down on to the bank on
the other side o' the crick. We see in a moment what was up. They've
jest got to the road and started a fire on the bridge that's about a
mile ahead. Their game was to burn that bridge, and when this train
stopped, burn this one behind us, ketch us, whip us, and take the train.
We shot at the men we see on the bank, but probably didn't do 'em no
harm. They're all pilin' down now to the other bank to whip us out and
git the train. You'd better deploy the boys along the top o' the bank
here and open on 'em. We can't save that bridge, but we kin this and the
train, by keepin' 'em on the other side o' the crick. I'll take charge
o' the p'int here with two or three boys, and drive off any o' them that
tries to set fire to the bridge, and you kin look out for the rest o'
the line. It's goin' to be longtaw work, for you see the crick's purty
wide, but our guns 'll carry further'n theirs, and if we keep the boys
well in hand I think we kin stand 'em off without much trouble."

"Sure," said Si confidently. "You watch the other side o' the bridge and
I'll look out for the rest."

The eager boys had already begun firing, entering into the spirit of the
thing with the zest of a Fame of town-ball. Shorty took Gid Mackall and
Harry Joslyn down to the cover of some large stones, behind which they
could lie and command the approach to the other end of the bridge with
their rifles. Si took the other boys and placed them behind rocks and
stumps along the crest and instructed them to fire with as good aim as
possible at the flashes from the other side. In a minute or two he had a
fine skirmish-line in operation, with the boys firing as deliberately
and accurately as veterans. The engineer had backed the train under the
cover of the cut, and presently he and the conductor came up with guns
and joined the firing-line.

"I say, Shorty," said Si, coming down to where that worthy was
stationed, "what d' you think o' the boys now? They take to this like a
duck to water. They think it's more fun than squirrel-huntin'. Listen."

They heard Monty Scruggs's baritone call:

"Say, Alf, did you see me salt that feller that's bin yellin' and
cussin' at me over there? He's cussin' now for something else. I think I
got him right where he lived."

"I wasn't paying any attention to you," Alf's fine tenor replied, as his
rammer rang in his barrel. "I've got business o' my own to 'tend to.
There's a feller over there that's firing buckshot at me that I've got
to settle, and here goes."

"The 200th Injianny Volunteers couldn't put up a purtier skirmish than
this," murmured Si, in accents of pride, as he raised his gun and fired
at a series of flashes on the farther bank.

"I say, tell that engineer to uncouple his engine and bring it back up
here where the head-light'll cover the other side," said Shorty. "It'll
make the other side as light as day and we kin see every move, while
we'll be in the dark."

"Good idee," said Si, hastening to find the engineer.

He was none too soon. As the engine rolled up, flooding its advance with
light, it brought a storm of bullets from the other side, but revealed
three men creeping toward the other end of the bridge. Two were carrying
pine knots, and the third, walking behind, had a stick of blazing pine,
which he was trying to shield from observation with his hat.

"Take the front man, Harry. Take the second one, Gid. I'll take the man
with the light," commanded Shorty.

The three rifles cracked in quick succession and the three men dropped.

"Bully, boys," ejaculated Shorty, as he reloaded. "You'll do. The 200th
Injianny's proud o' you."

"I hit my man in the leg," said Harry, flushing with delight, as he bit
off another cartridge. "Jerusalem, I wish they'd send another one down."

"I drawed on my man's bundle o' wood," said Gid, "and then dropped a
little, so's to git him where he was biggest and make sure o' him."

"Well, my man's beauty's spiled forever," said Shorty. "The light flared
up on his face and I let him have it there."

"But Linden saw another light. When beat the drums at dead of night,
Commanding fires of death to hight The darkness of her scenery,"

recited Monty Scruggs. "Gracious, I'm hit!"

"Where?" asked Si, running up to him.

"Through my leg," answered Monty.

"Kin you walk?"

"I guess so."

"Well, make your way back to the cars and git in and lay down."

"Not much," answered Monty determinedly. "It don't hurt much, and I'm
going to stay and see this thing out. I can tie it up with my
handkerchief."

"Scatter again, boys," Si warned several, who had rushed up; "don't make
too big a mark for the fellers on the other side. Go back and 'tend to
your bizniss. I'll help him tie up his wound. I'm afeared, though, that
some o' the boys are runnin' out o' catridges, they have bin shootin' so
rapidly. I want a couple o' you to run back to the cars and git another
box."

"Let me and Sandy go," pleaded little Pete Skidmore. "The big boys went
before."

"All right; skip out. Break the lid o' the box off before you take it
out o' the car. We haven't anything here to do it with. Leave your guns
here."

"No, we'll take 'em along," pleaded Pete, with a boyish love for his
rifle. "We mightn't be able to find 'em agin."

The firing from the opposite bank became fitful, died down, and then
ceased altogether. Then a couple of shots rang out from far in the rear
in the direction of the train. This seemed to rouse the rebels to
another volley, and then all became quiet. The shots in the rear
disturbed Si, who started back to see what they meant, but met Pete
Skidmore and Sandy Baker coming panting up, carrying a box of cartridges
between them.

"We got back as quick as we could," Pete explained as he got his breath.
"Just as we was coming to the train we see a rebel who was carrying a
fat-pine torch, and making for the train to set it on fire. We shot him.
Was that all right?"

"Perfectly," said Si. "Was there any more with him?"

"No. We looked around for others, but couldn't find none. That's what
kept up so long."

"The Johnnies have given it up and gone," said Shorty, coming up. "I
went over to a place where I could see 'em skippin' out by the light o'
the burnin' o' the other bridge. We might as well put out guards here
and go into camp till mornin'."

"All right," assented Si. "We've saved the train and bridge, and that's
all we kin do."



CHAPTER XX. AFTER THE SKIRMISH WILD SHOOTING WAS ALL THAT SAVED A
SURPRISED COLORED MAN.

THOUGH Si and Shorty were certain that the trouble was over and the
rebels all gone, it was impossible to convince the boys of this. The
sudden appearance of the guerrillas had been so mysterious that they
could not rid themselves of the idea that the dark depths beyond the
creek were yet filled with vicious foemen animated by dire intents.

Si and Shorty gathered the boys together on the bank above the railroad
cut, had fires built, posted a few guards, and ordered the rest of the
boys to lie down and go to sleep. They set the example by unrolling
their own blankets at the foot of a little jack-oat, whose thickly-
growing branches, still bearing a full burden of rusty-brown leaves,
made an excellent substitute for a tent.

"Crawl in. Si, and git some sleep," said Shorty, filling his pipe. "I'll
take a smoke and set up for an hour or two. If it looks worth while
then, I'll wake you up and let you take a trick o' keepin' awake. But if
everything looks all right I'll jest crawl in beside you and start a
snorin'-match."

But neither orders nor example could calm down the nerves of boys who
had just had their first experience under fire. There was as little rest
for them as for a nest of hornets which had been rudely shaken. They lay
down at Si's order, but the next minute they were buzzing together in
groups about the fires, or out with their guns to vantage points on the
bank, looking for more enemies. Their excited imaginations made the
opposite bank of the creek alive with men, moving in masses, squads and
singly, with the sounds of footsteps, harsh commands, and of portentous
movements.

Two or three times Shorty repressed them and sharply ordered them to lie
down and go to sleep. Then he decided to let them wear themselves out,
braced his back against a sapling near the fire, pulled out from his
pocket the piece of Maria's dress, and became lost in a swarm of
thoughts that traveled north of the Ohio River.

He was recalled by Harry Joslyn and Gid Mackall appearing before him.

"Say, Corpril," inquired Harry, "what's to be done with them rebels over
there at the end o' the bridge?"

"Them that we shot?" said Shorty carelessly, feeling around for his
tobacco to refill his pipe. "Nothin'. I guess we've done enough for 'em
already."

"Don't we do nothin' more?" repeated Harry.

"No," answered Shorty, as he rubbed the whittlings from his plug to
powder in the hollow of his hand.

"Just plug at 'em as you would at a crow, and then go on your way
whistlin'?" persisted Harry.

"Certainly," answered Shorty, filling his pipe and looking around for a
sliver with which to light it. "What're you thinkin' about?"

"I don't hardly know," hesitated Harry. "It seems awful strange just to
blaze away at men and then pay no more attention to 'em. They mayn't be
knocked out at all\x97only 'possumin'."

"No 'possumin' about them fellers," said Shorty sententiously, as he
lighted his pipe. "Feller that gits an ounce o' lead from a Springfield
rifle anywhere in his carkiss don't play off nor purtend. He's got
something real to occupy his attention, if he's got any attention left
to occupy. You needn't bother any more about them fellers over there.
Their names's mud. They're now only part o' the real estate on the other
side o' the crick. They're suddently become no good for poll-tax; only
to be assessed by the acre."

"So you're sure they can't do more harm to the bridge?"

"No more'n the dead leaves on the banks."

"But I thought," persisted Harry, "that when a man's killed something
had to be done\x97coroner's inquest, corpse got ready, funeral, preacher,
neighbors gather in, and so on."

"Well, you needn't bother about any obsequies to them fellers over
there," said Shorty, sententiously, as he pulled away at his pipe. "You
done your whole share when you done the heavy work o' providin' the
corpses. Let anybody that wants to put on any frills about plantin' 'em.
If we have time tomorrow mornin' and nothin' better to do, we may go
over there and dig holes and put 'em in. But most likely we'll be needed
to rebuild that bridge they burnt. I'd rather do that, so's we kin hurry
on to Chattynoogy. Buzzards'll probably be their undertakers. They've
got a contract from the Southern Confedrisy for all that work. You lay
down and go to sleep. That's the first dooty of a soldier. You don't
know what may be wanted o' you tomorrow, and you should git yourselves
in shape for anything\x97fightin', marchin' or workin'."

"And sha'n't we do nothin' neither to that man that we shot when he was
tryin' to set fire to the train?" asked little Pete Skidmore, who with
Sandy Baker had come up and listened to Shorty's lecture. "He's still
layin' out there where he dropped, awful still. Me and Sandy took a
piece o' fat pine and went down and looked at him. We didn't go very
close. We didn't like to. He seemed so awful quiet and still."

"No; you let him alone," snapped Shorty impatiently. "He'll keep. Lay
down and git some sleep, I tell you. What need you bother about a dead
rebel? He ain't makin' no trouble. It's the livin' ones that need
lookin' out for."

The boys' looks showed that they were face to face with one of the
incomprehensibilities of war. But they lay down and tried to go to
sleep, and Shorty's thoughts returned to Indiana.

A shot rang out from the post on which he had stationed Jim Humphreys.
He was on his feet in an instant, with his gun in hand, and in the next
Si was beside him.

"What's up?" inquired Si, rubbing his eyes.

"Nothin', I believe," answered Shorty. "But hold the boys and I'll go
out and see."

He strode forward to Jim's side and demanded what he had shot at.

"I saw some men tryin' to cross the crick there," replied Jim, pointing
with his rammer in the direction of the opposite bank.

"There, you kin see 'em for yourself."

"I don't see no men," said Shorty, after a moment's scrutiny.

"There they are. Don't you see that white there?" said Jim, capping his
musket for another shot.

"That white," said Shorty contemptously, "is some water-birches. They
was there when you came on guard, for I noticed 'em, and they hain't
moved since. You seen 'em then, lookin' just as they do now. You're a
fool to think you kin see anything white in a rebel. 'Taint their
color."

"I don't care," half whimpered Jim. "Gid Mackall, and Harry Joslyn, and
Alf Russell, and Pete Skidmore, and even Sandy Baker, have all shot
rebels, and I hain't hit none. I don't have half-a-show."

"Be patient," Shorty consoled him. "Your three years's only begun.
You'll have lots o' chances yit. But if I ketch you shootin' at any more
white birches I'll tie you up by the thumbs."

Shorty returned to the fire. Si bade the boys he down again, and took
his own blanket. Shorty relighted his pipe, took out his never-failing
deck of cards and began running them over.

Wild Shooting of the Boys Saves The Surprised Colored Man. 273

Jim Humphreys's shot had given new restlessness to the boys. They did
not at all believe in Shorty's diagnosis of the situation. There must be
more men lurking over there whence all that murderous shooting had come
only a little while ago. Jim Humphreys was more than probably right. One
after another of them quietly slipped away from the fire with his gun
and made his way down to Jim Humphreys's post, which commanded what
seemed to be a crossing of the creek. They stood there and scanned the
opposite bank of darkness with tense expectancy. They had their ears
tuned up to respond to even the rustle of the brown, dry leaves on the
trees and the murmur of the creek over the stones. They even saw the
white birches move around from place to place and approach the water,
but Shorty's dire threat prevented their firing until they got something
more substantial.

"There's rebels over there, sure as you're born,"' murmured Jim to them,
without turning his head to relax his fixed gaze nor taking his finger
from the trigger of his cocked gun. "Wish they'd fire a gun first to
convince that old terror of a Corpril, who thinks he kin tell where
rebels is just by the smell. I'd\x97"

"Sh! Jim, I hear a hoss's hoofs," said Harry Joslyn.

"Sh! so do I," echoed Gid Mackall.

They all listened with painful eagerness.

"Hoss's hoofs and breakin' limbs, sure's you're a foot high," whispered
Harry. "And they're comin' down the hill this way."

"That's right. They're a'most to the crick now," assented Gid. "I'm
going to shoot."

"No; I've got the right to a first shot," said Jim. "You fellers hold
off."

Bang went Jim's gun, followed almost instantly by the others.

"Hi, dere, boys; I's done found you at las'! Whoopee!" called out a
cheery voice from across the creek, and a man rode boldly down to the
water's edge, where the boys were nervously reloading.

"Now, Jim Humphreys, what in blazes are you bangin' away at now?"
angrily demanded Si, striding up. "At a cotton-tailed rabbit or a
sycamore stump?"

"The woods is full o' rebel cavalry comin' acrost the crick," gasped
Jim, as he rammed down his cartridge. "There, you kin see 'em for
yourself."

"What foh you come dis-a-way, boys?" continued the voice of the man on
horseback. "I done los' you! I fought we done agreed to go ober by
Simpson's hill, an' I jine you dar. I went dat-a-way, an' den I hear you
shootin' ober dis-a-way, an' seed yoh fiah, and I cut acrost to git to
you. Whah'd you git so many guns, an' sich big ones? Sound like sojer
guns. I done beared dem way ober dah, an' I\x97"

"Hold on, boys," sternly shouted Shorty, springing in front of them and
throwing up their guns. "Don't one o' you dare shoot! Hold up, I say!
Hello, you there! Who are you?"

"Who's me?" said the negro, astonished by the strange voice. "I's Majah
Wilkinson's Sam, Massa Patrol. I's got a pass all right. De old Majah
done tole me I could go out coon-huntin' wid Kunnel Oberly's boys
tonight, but I done missed dem."

"Come ashore here, boy," commanded Shorty, "and be thankful that you're
alive. You've had a mighty narrow squeak of it. Next time you go out
coon huntin' be sure there's no Yankee and rebel soldiers huntin' one
another in the neighborhood. Coons have a tough time then."

"Yankee sojers!" gasped the negro, as he was led back to the fire, and
saw the blue uniforms. "Lawdy, massy, don't kill me. I pray, sah, don't.
I hain't done nuffin. Sho' I hain't. Massa said you'd burn me alibe if
you eber cotched me, but you won't, will you?"

"We ain't goin' to hurt you," said Shorty. "Sit down there by the fire
and git the goose-flesh offen you." Then turning to the boys he remarked
sarcastically:

"Fine lot o' marksmen you are, for a fact. Halfa dozen o' you bangin'
away at a hundred yards, and not comin' close enough to a nigger to let
him know you was shootin' at him. Now will you lay down and go to sleep?
Here, Si, you take charge o' this gang and let me go to sleep. I've had
enough o' them for one night."

During the night a train came up, carrying a regiment of entirely new
troops. In the morning these scattered over the ground, scanning
everything with the greatest interest and drinking in every detail of
the thrilling events of the previous night.

"It's just killin'," said Si to Shorty, "to watch the veteran airs our
boys are puttin' on over those new fellers. You'd think they'd fit in
every battle since Bunker Hill, and learned Gen. Grant all he knows
about tactics. Talk about the way the old fellers used to fill us up,
why, these boys lay away over everything we ever knowed. I overheard
Harry Joslyn laying it into about 40 of them. 'No man knows just what
his feelin's will be under fire until he has the actual experience,'
says he. 'Now, the first time I heard a rebel bullet whistle,' and his
face took on a look as if he was trying to recollect something years
ago."

"Yes," laughed Shorty, "and you should hear little Pete Skidmore and
Sandy Baker lecturing them greenies as to the need o' lookin' carefully
to their rear and beware o' rebels sneakin' 'round and attackin' their
trains. Hold on. Look through this brush. There's Monty Scruggs
explainin' the plan o' battle to a crowd of 'em. He don't know we're
anywhere around. Listen and you'll hear something."

"The enemy had reached the ground in advance of us," Monty was
elucidating, in language with which his school histories and the daily
papers had familiarized him, "and had strongly posted himself along
those hights, occupying a position of great natural strength, including
their own natural cussedness. Their numbers was greatly superior to
ours, and they had prepared a cunning trap for us, which we only escaped
by the vigilance of Corpril Elliott and the generalship of Serg't Klegg.
I tell you, those men are a dandy team when it comes to running a
battle. They know their little biz, and don't you forget it for a
minute. The enemy opened a galling fire, when Corpril Elliott gallantly
advanced to that point there and responded, while Serg't Klegg rapidly
arrayed his men along there, and the battle became terrific. It was like
the poet says:

"'Then shook the hills with thunder riven, Then rushed the steeds to
battle driven, And louder than the bolts of heaven, Far flashed the red
artillery.'"

"O, come off, Monty," called the more prosaic Gid Mackall; "you know we
didn't have no artillery. If we'd had, we'd a blowed 'em clean offen the
hill."

The whistle summoned them to get aboard and move on.



CHAPTER XXI. CHATTANOOGA AT LAST LOST IN A MAZE OF RAILROAD TRAINS.

"WHAT'S the program?" Si inquired of the conductor, as the boys were
being formed on the bank, preparatory to entering the cars. "I s'pose
it's to go over there and put in a week o' hard work rebuildin' that
bridge. Have you got any axes and saws on the train? How long is the
blamed old bridge, anyway?"

"Not much it ain't," responded the conductor. "If you think the army's
goin' to wait a week, or even a day, on a bridge, you're simply not up
to date, that's all. The old Buell and Rosecrans way o' doin' things is
played out since Sherman took command. Your Uncle Billy's a hustler, and
don't let that escape your mind for a minute, or it'll likely lead you
into trouble. You'll find when you get down to Chattynoogy that nobody's
asleep in daylight, or for a good part o' the night. They're not only
wide-awake, but on the keen jump. The old man kin see four ways at once,
he's always where he ain't expected, and after everybody with a sharp
stick. In Buell's time a burnt bridge 50 foot long 'd stopped us for two
weeks. Now that bridge 'll likely be finished by the time we git there.
I've just been over there, and they were layin' the stringers."

"Why, how in the world did they manage?" asked Si.

"O, Sherman's first move was to order down here duplicates for every
bridge on the road. He's got 'em piled up at Louisville, Nashville,
Murfreesboro and Chattynoogy. The moment a bridge is reported burned a
gang starts for the place with another bridge, and they're at work as
soon's it's cool enough to let 'em get to the abutments. I've seen 'em
pullin' away the burnin' timbers to lay new ones. They knowed at
Chattynoogy as soon's we did that the bridge was burned. The operator at
the next station must 've seen it and telegraphed the news, and they
started a bridge-gang right out. I tell you, double-quick's the time
around where old Cump Sherman is."

"Duplicate bridges," gasped Si. "Well, that is an idee."

"What does he mean by duplicate, Corpril?" asked Harry Joslyn to Shorty.

"O, duplicate's something that you ring in on a feller like a cold
deck."

"I don't understand," said Harry.

"Why\x97hem\x97hem\x97duplicate's the new-fangled college word for anything that
you have up your sleeve to flatten a feller when he thinks he's got you
euchered. You want to deal the other feller only left bowers and keep
the right bowers for yourself. Them's duplicates. If you give him aces,
have the jokers handy for when you want 'em. Them's duplicates.
Duplicates 's Sherman's great lay\x97learned it from his old side-partner,
Unconditional Surrender Grant\x97just as strategy was old McClellan's.
There's this difference: Sherman always stacks the deck to win himself,
while McClellan used to shuffle the cards for the other feller to win."

"Still I don't understand about the duplicate bridges," persisted Harry.

"Why, old Sherman just plays doublets on the rebels. He leads a king at
'em and then plumps down an ace, and after that the left and right
bowers. They burn one bridge and he plumps down a better one instead.
They blow up a tunnel and he just hauls it out and sticks a bigger one
in its place. Great head, that Sherman. Knows almost as much as old Abe
Lincoln himself."

"Do you say that Sherman has extra tunnels, too, to put in whenever one
is needed?" asked Harry, with opening eyes.

"O, cert," replied Shorty carelessly. "You seen that big iron buildin'
we went into to git on the cars at Louisville? That was really a tunnel,
all ready to be shoved out on the road when it was needed. If you hadn't
bin so keen on the lookout for guerrillas as we come along you'd 'a'
seen pieces o' tunnels layin' all along the road ready for use."

As the train dashed confidently over the newly-completed bridge the boys
gazed with intense interest and astonishment at the still smoldering
wreckage, which had been dragged out of the way to admit the erection of
the new structure. It was one of the wonders of the new, strange life
upon which they were entering.

The marvelous impressiveness and beauty of the scenery as they
approached Chattanooga fascinated the boys, who had never seen anything
more remarkable than the low, rounded hills of Southern Indiana.

The towering mountains, reaching up toward the clouds, or even above
them, their summits crowned with castellated rocks looking like
impregnable strongholds, the sheer, beetling cliffs, marking where the
swift, clear current of the winding Tennessee River had cut its way
through the granite walls, all had a deep fascination for them. Then,
everywhere were strong intrenchments and frowning forts, guarding the
crossings of the river or the passages through the mountains. There were
populous villages of log huts, some with canvas roofs, some roofed with
clapboards, some with boards purloined from the Quartermaster's stores.
These were the Winter quarters of the garrisons of the fortifications.
Everywhere men were marching to and fro, and long trains of army wagons
struggling through the mud of the valleys and up the steep hillsides.

"My, what lots o' men," gasped Harry Joslyn. "We won't be once among
sich a crowd. Wonder if Sergeant Klegg and Corpril Elliott kin keep us
from bein' lost?"

"Trust Corpril Elliott," said Gid, returning to his old partisanship of
the taller veteran. "He knows his business every time."

"Not any better'n Sergeant Klegg," responded Harry, taking up the
gantlet for his favorite. "Long-legged men are very good in their way,
but they don't have the brains that shorter men have. Nature don't give
no man everything. What she gives to his legs she takes off his head, my
dad says."

"That's just because you're a duck-legged snipe," answered Gid
wrathfully. "Do you mean to?"

"Don't make any slurs at me, you spindle-legged sand-hill crane,"
retorted Harry.

This was enough. Blows came next. It was their way. Gid Mackall and
Harry Joslyn had been inseparable companions since they had begun going
to school, and they had scarcely ever let a day pass without a fight.
The moment that Si and Shorty appeared within their horizon they had
raised the issue of which was the best soldier, and made it a matter of
lively partisanship.

Si and Shorty had been on the eager lookout for the indications of the
position of the army, for places that they could recognize, and for
regiments, brigades and divisions they were acquainted with, so they did
not at first notice the squabble. Then they pulled the boys asunder,
shook them and scolded them for their conduct.

New emotions filled Si's and Shorty's breasts. They had been away from
their regiment so long that they were acutely homesick to be back to it.
Such is the magic of military discipline and association that their
regimental flag had become the center of their universe, and the real
people of their world the men who gathered around it. Everything and
everybody else was subsidiary to that thing of wonderful sacredness\x97"the
regiment." They felt like wanderers who had been away for years, and
were now returning to their proper home, friends, associations and
vocation. Once more under the Flag life would become again what it
should be, with proper objects of daily interest and the satisfactory
performance of every-day duties. They really belonged in the regiment,
and everywhere else were interlopers, sojourners, strangers in a strange
land. They now sat together and talked of the regiment as they had
formerly sat around the campfire with the other boys and talked of their
far-away homes, their fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters and
sweethearts.

They had last seen their regiment in the fierce charge from the crest of
Snodgrass Hill. The burning questions were who had survived that
terrible day? Who had been so badly wounded as to lose his place on the
rolls? Who commanded the regiment and the companies? Who filled the non-
commissioned offices? What voices that once rang out in command on the
drill-ground, in camp and battle, were now silent, and whose would be
lifted instead? "I'm af eared the old rijimint will never fight agin as
it did at Stone River and Chickamauga," said Si mournfully. "Too many
good men gone what made the rijimint what it is."

"Well, I don't know about that," said Shorty more hopefully. "They got
two mighty good non-commish when they promoted me and you. If they done
as well in the rest o' the promotions, the rijimint is all right. Lord
knows I'd willingly give up my stripes to poor Jim Sanders, if he could
come back; but I guess I kin yank around a squad as well as he done.
This infant class that we're takin' down there ain't up to some o' the
boys that've turned up their toes, but they average mighty well, and
after we git some o' the coltishness drilled out o' 'em they'll be a
credit to the rijimint."

The train finally halted on a side-track in the outskirts of
Chattanooga, under the gigantic shadow of Lookout Mountain, and in the
midst of an ocean of turmoiling activity that made the eyes ache to look
upon it, and awed every one, even Si and Shorty, with a sense of
incomprehensible immensity. As far as they could see, in every
direction, were camps, forts, intrenchments, flags, hordes of men,
trains of wagons, herds of cattle, innumerable horses, countless mules,
mountains of boxes, barrels and bales. Immediately around them was a
wilderness of trains, with noisy locomotives and shouting men. Regiments
returning from veteran furlough, or entirely new ones, were disembarking
with loud cheering, which was answered from the camps on the hillsides.
On the river front steamboats were whistling and clanging their bells.

The boys, too much awed for speech, clustered around Si and Shorty and
cast anxious glances at their faces.

"Great Jehosephat," murmured Shorty. "They seem to be all here."

"No," answered Si, as the cheers of a newly-arrived regiment rang out,
"the back townships are still comin' in."

Monty Scruggs found tongue enough to quote:

"And ships by thousands lay below, And men by nations, all were his."

"Where in time do you s'pose the 200th Injianny is in all this freshet
of men and mules and bosses?" said Si, with an anxious brow. The look
made the boys almost terror-stricken. They huddled together and turned
their glances toward Shorty for hope. But Shorty looked as puzzled as
Si.

"Possibly," he suggested to Si, "the conductor will take us further up
into the town, where we kin find somebody that we know, who'll tell us
where the rijimint is."

"No," said the conductor, who came back at that moment; "I can't go no
further with you. Just got my orders. You must pile right out here at
once. They want the engine and empties in five minutes to take a load
back to Nashville. Git your men out quick as you kin."

"Fall in," commanded Si. "Single rank. Foller me and Corpril Elliott.
Keep well closed up, for if you git separated from us goodness knows
what'll become o' you in this raft o' men."

The passage through the crowded, busy railroad yard was bewildering,
toilsome, exciting and dangerous. The space between the tracks was
scarcely more than wide enough for one man to pass, and the trains on
either side would be moving in different directions. On the tracks that
the boys crossed trains were going ahead or backing in entire
regardlessness of them, and with many profane yells from the trainmen
for them to get out of the way and keep out. Si only kept his direction
by occasionally glancing over his shoulder and setting his face to walk
in the direction away from Pulpit Rock, which juts out from the
extremity of Lookout Mountain.

At last, after a series of hair-breadth dodges, Si drew up his squad in
an open space where the tracks crossed, and proceeded to count them.



SI KLEGG SI AND SHORTY, WITH THEIR BOY RECRUITS, ENTER ON THE ATLANTA
CAMPAIGN



By John McElroy



BOOK No. 6



PUBLISHED BY

THE NATIONAL TRIBUNE COMPANY,

WASHINGTON, D. C.

SECOND EDITION

COPYRIGHT 1915


frontispiece (98K)



titlepage (26K)



THE SIX VOLUMES SI KLEGG, Book I, Transformation From a Raw Recruit SI
KLEGG, Book II, Through the Stone River Campaign SI KLEGG, Book III,
Meets Mr. Rosenbaum, the Spy SI KLEGG, Book IV, On The Great Tullahoma
Campaign SI KLEGG, Book V, Deacon's Adventures At Chattanooga SI KLEGG,
Book VI, Enter On The Atlanta Campaign



CONTENTS


PREFACE.

SI KLEGG

CHAPTER I. SHORTY BEGINS BEING A FATHER TO PETE SKIDMORE

CHAPTER II. SI AND SHORTY COME VERY NEAR LOSING THEIR BOYS

CHAPTER III. THE PARTNERS GET BACK TO THEIR REGIMENT AT LAST

CHAPTER IV. THE RECRUITS ARE ASSIGNED TO COMPANIES

CHAPTER V. THE YOUNG RECRUITS

CHAPTER VI. SI KLEGG PUTS HIS AWKWARD SQUAD THROUGH ITS FIRST DRILL

CHAPTER VII. SHORTY'S HEART TURNS TOWARD MARIA

CHAPTER VIII. SHORTY WRITES A LETTER TO MARIA KLEGG

CHAPTER IX. SI TAKES HIS BOYS FOR A LITTLE MARCH INTO THE COUNTRY

CHAPTER X. THE BOYS HAVE A COUPLE OF LITTLE SKIRMISHES

CHAPTER XI. SHORTY GIVES THE BOYS THEIR FIRST LESSON IN FORAGING

CHAPTER XII. THE OPENING OF THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN

CHAPTER XIII. THE FIRST DAY OF THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN

CHAPTER XIV. THE EVENING AFTER THE BATTLE

CHAPTER XV. THE FIGHTING AROUND BUZZARD ROOST

CHAPTER XVI. THE 200TH IND. ASSAULTS THE REBEL WORKS AT DAYBREAK

CHAPTER XVII. GATHERING UP THE BOYS AFTER THE BATTLE

CHAPTER XVIII.   AN ARTILLERY DUEL

CHAPTER XIX. SI AND SHORTY ARE PUT UNDER ARREST

CHAPTER XX. SHORTY IS ARRAIGNED BEFORE THE COURT-MARTIAL



ILLUSTRATIONS


Little Pete Found 13

He Ain't No Officer 27

You've Lost Little Pete 51

Them's Our Names and Addresses 59

Draw Your Stomachs In. 73

A Letter from Maria. 81

Close Up, Boys. 111

Don't Anybody Shoot. 119

Mr. Yank, Don't Conjure Me. 135

Little Pete's Awful Rebels. 149

Little Pete's Horse Bolts. 168

Capture of Rebel Stronghold. 185

The Charge Thru the Abatis. 211

Hooray for the Old Battery. 231

Awful Destruction. 241

Shorty Before the Court-martial. 256



PREFACE.

"Si Klegg, of the 200th Ind., and Shorty, his Partner," were born years
ago in the brain of John McElroy, Editor of The National Tribune.

These sketches are the original ones published in The National Tribune,
revised and enlarged somewhat by the author. How true they are to nature
every veteran can abundantly testify from his own service. Really, only
the name of the regiment was invented. There is no doubt that there were
several men of the name of Josiah Klegg in the Union Army, and who did
valiant service for the Government. They had experiences akin to, if not
identical with, those narrated here, and substantially every man who
faithfully and bravely carried a musket in defense of the best
Government on earth had sometimes, if not often, experiences of which
those of Si Klegg are a strong reminder.

The Publishers.



THIS BOOK IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED TO THE RANK AND FILE OF THE GREATEST
ARMY EVER MUSTERED FOR WAR.



SI KLEGG



CHAPTER I. SHORTY BEGINS BEING A FATHER TO PETE SKIDMORE.

"Come, my boy," Si said kindly. "Don't cry. You're a soldier now, and
soldiers don't cry. Stop it."

"Dod durn it," blubbered Pete, "I ain't cryin' bekase Pm skeered. I'm
cryin' bekase I'm afeared you'll lose me. I know durned well you'll lose
me yit, with all this foolin' around."

"No, we won't," Si assured him. "You just keep with us and you'll be all
right."

"Here, you blim-blammed, moon-eyed suckers, git offen that 'ere
crossin'," yelled at them a fireman whose engine came tearing down
toward the middle of the squad. "Hain't you got no more sense than to
stand on a crossin'?"

He hurled a chunk of coal at the squad, which hastily followed Si to the
other side of the track.

"Hello, there; where are you goin', you chuckle-headed clodhoppers?"
yelled the men on another train rushing down from a different direction.
"This ain't no hayfield. Go back home and drive cows, and git out o' the
way o' men who're at work."

There was more scurrying, and when at last Si reached a clear space, he
had only a portion of his squad with him, while Shorty was vowing he
would not go a step farther until he had licked a railroad man. But the
engines continued to whirl back and forth in apparently purposeless
confusion, and the moment that he fixed upon any particular victim of
his wrath, he was sure to be compelled to jump out of the way of a
locomotive clanging up from an unexpected direction and interposing a
train of freight cars between him and the man he was after.

Si was too deeply exercised about getting his squad together to pay
attention to Shorty or the jeering, taunting railroaders. He became very
fearful that some of them had been caught and badly hurt, probably
killed, by the remorseless locomotives.

"This's wuss'n a battle," he remarked to the boys around him. "I'd
ruther take you out on the skirmish-line than through them trains agin."

However, he had come to get some comprehension of the lay of the ground
and the movements of the trains by this time, and by careful watching
succeeded in gathering in his boys, one after another, until he had them
all but little Pete Skidmore. The opinion grew among them that Pete had
unwisely tried to keep up with the bigger boys, who had jumped across
the track in front of a locomotive, and had been caught and crushed
beneath the wheels. He had been seen up to a certain time, and then
those who were last with him had been so busy getting out of the way
that they had forgotten to look for him. Si calmed Shorty down enough to
get him to forget the trainmen for awhile and take charge of the squad
while he went to look for Pete. He had become so bewildered that he
could not tell the direction whence they had come, or where the tragedy
was likely to have happened. The farther he went in attempting to
penetrate the maze of moving trains, the more hopeless the quest seemed.
Finally he went over to the engineer of a locomotive that was standing
still and inquired if he had heard of any accident to a boy soldier
during the day.

"Seems to me that I did hear some o' the boys talkin' about No. 47 or 63
havin' run over a boy, or something," answered the engineer carelessly,
without removing his pipe from his mouth. "I didn't pay no attention to
it. Them things happen every day. Sometimes it's my engine, sometimes
it's some other man's. But I hain't run over nobody for nigh a month
now."

"Confound it," said Si savagely; "you talk about runnin' over men as if
it was part o' your business."

"No," said the engineer languidly, as he reached up for his bell-rope.
"'Tain't, so to speak, part o' our regler business. But the yard's
awfully crowded, old Sherman's makin' it do five times the work it was
calculated for, trains has got to be run on the dot, and men must keep
off the track if they don't want to git hurt. Stand clear, there,
yourself, for I'm goin' to start."

Si returned dejectedly to the place where he had left his squad. The
expression of his face told the news before he had spoken a word. It was
now getting dark, and he and Shorty decided that it was the best thing
to go into bivouac where they were and wait till morning before
attempting to penetrate the maze beyond in search of their regiment.
They gathered up some wood, built fires, made coffee and ate the
remainder of their rations. They were all horribly depressed by little
Pete Skidmore's fate, and Si and Shorty, accustomed as they were to
violent deaths, could not free themselves from responsibility however
much they tried to reason it out as an unavoidable accident. They could
not talk to one another, but each wrapped himself up in his blanket and
sat moodily, a little distance from the fires, chewing the cud of bitter
fancies. Neither could bear the thought of reporting to their regiment
that they had been unable to take care of the smallest boy in their
squad. Si's mind went back to Peter Skidmore's home, and his mother,
whose heart would break over the news.

The clanging and whistling of the trains kept up unabated, and Si
thought they made the most hateful din that ever assailed his ears.

Presently one of the trains stopped opposite them and a voice called
from the locomotive:

"Do you men know of a squad of Injianny recruits commanded by Serg't
Klegg?"

"Yes, here they are," said Si, springing up. "I'm Serg't Klegg."

Little Pete Found 13

"That's him," piped out Pete Skidmore's voice from the engine, with a
very noticeable blubber of joy. "He's the same durned old-fool that I
kept tellin' all the time he'd lose me if he wasn't careful, and he went
and done it all the same."

"Well, here's your boy," continued the first voice. "Be mighty glad
you've got him back and see that you take care o' him after this. My
fireman run down on the cow-ketcher and snatched him up just in the nick
o' time. A second more and he'd bin mince-meat. Men what can't take
better care o' boys oughtn't to be allowed to have charge of 'em. But
the Government gits all sorts o' damn fools for $13 a month."

Si was so delighted at getting Pete back unhurt that he did not have the
heart to reply to the engineer's gibes.



CHAPTER II. SI AND SHORTY COME VERY NEAR LOSING THEIR BOYS.

ALL healthy boys have a strong tincture of the savage in them. The
savage alternately worships his gods with blind, unreasoning idolatry,
or treats them with measureless contumely.

Boys do the same with their heroes. It is either fervent admiration, or
profound distrust, merging into actual contempt. After the successful
little skirmish with the guerrillas the boys were wild in their
enthusiasm over Si and Shorty. They could not be made to believe that
Gens. Grant, Sherman or Thomas could conduct a battle better. But the
moment that Si and Shorty seemed dazed by the multitude into which they
were launched, a revulsion of feeling developed, which soon threatened
to be ruinous to the partners' ascendancy.

During the uncomfortable, wakeful night the prestige of the partners
still further diminished. In their absence the army had been turned
topsy-turvy and reorganized in a most bewildering way. The old familiar
guide-marks had disappeared. Two of the great corps had been
abolished\x97consolidated into one, with a new number and a strange
commander. Two corps of strange troops had come in from the Army of the
Potomac, and had been consolidated into one, taking an old corps'
number. Divisions, brigades and regiments had been totally changed in
commanders, formation and position. Then the Army of the Tennessee had
come in, to complicate the seeming muddle, and the more that Si and
Shorty cross-questioned such stragglers as came by the clearer it seemed
to the boys that they were hopelessly bewildered, and the more depressed
the youngsters became.

The morning brought no relief. Si and Shorty talked together, standing
apart from the squad, and casting anxious glances over the swirling mass
of army activity, which the boys did not fail to note and read with
dismal forebodings.

"I do believe they're lost," whimpered little Pete Skidmore. "What in
goodness will ever become of us, if we're lost in this awful
wilderness?"

The rest shuddered and grew pale at this horrible prospect.

"That looks like a brigade headquarters over there," said Si, pointing
to the left. "And I believe that's our old brigade flag. I'm goin' over
there to see."

"I don't believe that's any brigade headquarters at all," said Shorty.
"Up there, to the right, looks ever so much more like a brigade
headquarters. I'm goin' up there to see. You boys stay right there, and
don't move off the ground till I come back. I won't be gone long."

As he left, the boys began to feel more lonely and hopeless than ever,
and little Pete Skidmore had hard work to restrain his tears.

A large, heavy-jowled man, with a mass of black whiskers, and wearing a
showy but nondescript uniform, appeared.

"That must be one o' the big Generals," said Harry Joslyn. "Looks like
the pictures o' Grant. Git into line, boys, and salute."

"No, it ain't Grant, neither," said Gid Mackall. "Too big. Must be Gen.
Thomas."

The awed boys made an effort to form a line and receive him properly.

"Who are you, boys?" said the newcomer, after gravely returning the
salute.

"We're recruits for the 200th Injianny Volunteer Infantry," answered
Harry Joslyn. "Kin you tell us where the rijimint is? We're lost.

"Used to know sich a regiment. In fact, I used to be Lieutenant-Colonel
of it. But I hain't heared of it for a long time. Think it's petered
out."

"Petered out!" gasped the boys.

"Yes. It was mauled and mummixed to death. There's plenty o'
mismanagement all around the army, but the 200th Injianny had the worst
luck of all. It got into awful bad hands. I quit it just as soon's I see
how things was a-going. They begun to plant the men just as soon's they
crossed the Ohio, and their graves are strung all the way from
Louisville to Chickamauga. The others got tired o' being mauled around,
and starved, and tyrannized over, and o' fighting for the nigger, and
they skipped for home like sensible men."

The boys shuddered at the doleful picture.

"Who brung you here?" continued the newcomer.

"Sarjint Klegg and Corpril Elliott," answered Harry.

"Holy smoke," said the newcomer with a look of disgust. "They've made
non-commish out o' them sapsuckers. Why, I wouldn't let them do nothin'
but dig ditches when I was in command o' the regiment. But they probably
had to take them. All the decent material was gone. How much bounty'd
you get?"

"We got $27.50 apiece," answered Harry. "But we didn't care nothin' for
the bounty. We\x97"

"Only $27.50 apiece. Holy smoke! They're payin' 10 times that in some
places."

"I tell you, we didn't enlist for the bounty," reiterated Harry.

"All the same, you don't want to be robbed o' what's yours. You don't
want to be skinned out o' your money by a gang o' snoozers who're
gittin' rich off of green boys like you. Where's this Sarjint Klegg and
Corpril Elliott that brung you here?"

"They've gone to look for the rijimint."

"Gone to look for the regiment. Much they've gone to look for the
regiment. They've gone to look out for their scalawag selves. When you
see 'em agin, you'll know 'em, that's all."

Little Pete Skidmore began to whimper.

"Say, boys," continued the newcomer, "you'd better drop all idee of that
200th Injianny and come with me. If there is any sich a regiment any
more, and you get to it, you'd be sorry for it as long as you live. I
know a man over here who's got a nice regiment, and wants a few more
boys like you to fill it up. He'll treat you white and give you twice as
much bounty as you'll git anywhere's else, and he's goin' to keep his
regiment back in the fortifications, where there won't be no fightin',
and hard marches, and starvation\x97"

"But we enlisted to fight and march, and\x97" interjected Harry.

"Well, you want a good breakfast just now, more'n anything else, judgin'
from appearances. Come along with me and I'll git you something to eat."

"But we waz enlisted for the 200th Injianny Volunteer Infantry, and must
go to that rijimint," protested Monty Scruggs.

"Well, what's that got to do with your havin' a good breakfast?" said
the newcomer plausibly. "You need that right off. Then we kin talk about
your regiment. As a matter of fact, you're only enlisted in the Army of
the United States and have the right to go to any regiment you please.
Tyrannical as the officers may be, they can't take that privilege of an
American freeman away from you. Come along and git breakfast first."

The man's appearance was so impressive, his words and confident manner
so convincing, and the boys so hungry that their scruples vanished, and
all followed the late Lieut.-Col. Billings, as he gave the word, and
started off through the mazes of the camp with an air of confident
knowledge that completed his conquest of them.

Ex-Lieut.-Col. Billings strode blithely along, feeling the gladsome
exuberance of a man who had "struck a good thing," and turning over in
his mind as to where he had best market his batch of lively recruits,
how he could get around the facts of their previous enlistment, and how
much he ought to realize per head. He felt that he could afford to give
the boys a good breakfast, and that that would be fine policy.
Accordingly, he led the way to one of the numerous large eating houses,
established by enterprising sutlers, to their own great profit and the
shrinkage of the pay of the volunteers. He lined the boys up in front of
the long shelf which served for a table and ordered the keeper:

"Now, give each of these boys a good breakfast of ham and eggs and
trimmings and I'll settle for it."

"Good mornin', Kunnel. When 'd you git down here?" said a voice at his
elbow.

"Hello, Groundhog, is that you?" said Billings, turning around. "Just
the man I wanted to see. Finish your breakfast and come out here. I want
to talk to you."

"Well," answered Groundhog, wiping his mouth, "I'm through. The feller
that runs this shebang ain't made nothin' offen me, I kin tell you. It's
the first square meal I've had for a week, and I've et until there ain't
a crack left inside o' me that a skeeter could git his bill in. I laid
out to git the wuth o' my money, and I done it. What're you doin' down
here in this hole? Ain't Injianny good enough for you?"

"Injianny's good enough on general principles, but just now there's too
much Abolition malaria there for me. The Lincoln satraps 've got the
swing on me, and I thought I'd take a change of air. I've come down here
to see if there weren't some chances to make a good turn, and I've done
very well so far. I've done a little in cattle and got some cotton
through the lines\x97enough at least to pay my board and railroad fare. But
I think the biggest thing is in recruits, and I've got a scheme which I
may let you into. You know there are a lot of agents down here from the
New England States trying to git niggers to fill up their quotas, and
they are paying big money for recruits. Can't you go out and gether up a
lot o' niggers that we kin sell 'em?"

"Sure," said Groundhog confidently. "Kin git all you want, if you'll pay
for 'em. But what's this gang you've got with you?"

"O, they're a batch for that blasted Abolition outfit, the 200th
Injianny. Them two ornery galoots, Si and Shorty, whose necks I ought've
broke when I was with the regiment, have brung 'em down. They're not
goin' to git to the 200th Injianny if I kin help it, though. First
place, it'll give old McBiddle, that Abolition varmint, enough to git
him mustered as Colonel. He helped oust me, and I have it in for him. He
was recommended for promotion for gittin' his arm shot off at
Chickamauga. Wisht it'd bin his cussed head."

"But what're you goin' to do with the gang?" Groundhog inquired.

"O, there are two or three men around here that I kin sell 'em to for
big money. I ought to make a clean thousand off 'em if I make a cent."

"How much'll I git out o' that?" inquired Groundhog anxiously.

"Well, you ain't entitled to nothin' by rights. I've hived this crowd
all by myself, and kin work 'em all right. But if you'll come along and
make any affidavits that we may need, I'll give you a sawbuck. But on
the nigger lay I'll stand in even with you, half and half. You run 'em
in and I'll place 'em and we'll whack up."

"'Tain't enough," answered Groundhog angrily. "Look here, Jeff Billings,
I know you of old. You've played off on me before, and I won't stand no
more of it. Jest bekase you've bin a Lieutenant-Colonel and me only a
teamster you've played the high and mighty with me. I'm jest as good as
you are any day. I wouldn't give a howl in the infernal regions for your
promises. You come down now with $100 in greenbacks and I'll go along
and help you all I kin. If you don't\x97"

"If I don't what'll you do, you lowlived whelp?" said Billings, in his
usual brow-beating manner. "I only let you into this as a favor, because
I've knowed you before. You hain't brains enough to make a picayune
yourself, and hain't no gratitude when someone else makes it for you.
Git out o' here; I'm ashamed to be seen speakin' to a mangy hound like
you. Git out o' here before I kick you out. Don't you dare speak to one
o' them boys, or ever to me agin. If you do I'll mash you. Git out."

Si and Shorty's dismay when they returned and found their squad entirely
disappeared was overwhelming. They stood and gazed at one another for a
minute in speechless alarm and wonderment.

"Great goodness," gasped Si at length, "they can't have gone far. They
must be somewhere around."

"Don't know about that," said Shorty despairingly. "We've bin gone some
little time and they're quick-footed little rascals."

"What fools we wuz to both go off and leave 'em," murmured Si in deep
contrition. "What fools we wuz."

"No use o' cryin' over spilt milk," answered Shorty. "The thing to do
now is to find 'em, which is very much like huntin' a needle in a
haystack. You stay here, on the chance o' them comin' back, and I'll
take a circle around there to the left and look for 'em. If I don't find
'em I'll come back and we'll go down to the Provo-Marshal's."

"Goodness, I'd rather be shot than go back to the rijimint without 'em,"
groaned Si. "How kin I ever face the Colonel and the rest o' the boys?"

Leaving Si gazing anxiously in every direction for some clew to his
missing youngsters, Shorty rushed off in the direction of the sutler's
shanties, where instinct told him he was most likely to find the
runaways.

He ran up against Groundhog.

"Where are you goin' in sich a devil of a hurry?" the teamster asked.
"Smell a distillery somewhere?"

"Hello, Groundhog, is that you? Ain't you dead yit? Say, have you seen a
squad o' recruits around here\x97all boys, with new uniforms, and no
letters or numbers on their caps?"

"Lots and gobs of 'em. Camp's full of 'em. More comin' in by every
train."

"But these wuz all Injianny boys, most of 'em little. Not an old man
among 'em."

"Shorty, I know where your boys are. What'll you give me to tell you?"

Shorty knew his man of old, and just the basis on which to open
negotiations.

"Groundhog, I've just had my canteen filled with first-class whisky\x97none
o' your commissary rotgut, but old rye, hand-made, fire-distilled. I got
it to take out to the boys o' the rijimint to celebrate my comin' back.
Le' me have just one drink out of it, and I'll give it to you if you'll
tell."

Groundhog wavered an instant. "I wuz offered $10 on the other side."

Shorty was desperate. "I'll give you the whisky and $10."

"Le' me see your money and taste your licker."

"Here's the money," said Shorty, showing a bill. "I ain't goin' to trust
you with the canteen, but I'll pour out this big spoon full, which'll be
enough for you to taste." Shorty drew a spoon from his haversack and
filled it level full.

"It's certainly boss licker," said Groundhog, after he had drunk it, and
prudently hefted the canteen to see if it was full. "I'll take your
offer. You're to have just one swig out o' it, and no more, and not a
hog-swaller neither. I know you. You'd drink that hull canteenful at one
gulp, if you had to. You'll let me put my thumb on your throat?"

"Yes, and I'll give you the canteen now and the money after we find the
boys."

"All right. Go ahead. Drink quick, for you must go on the jump, or
you'll lose your boys."

Shorty lifted the canteen to his lips and Groundhog clasped his throat
with his thumb on Adam's apple. When Shorty got his breath he sputtered:

"Great Jehosephat, you didn't let me git more'n a spoonful. But where
are the boys?"

"Old Jeff Billings's got 'em down at Zeke Wiggins's hash-foundry feedin'
'em, so's he kin toll 'em off into another rijimint."

"Old Billings agin," shouted Shorty in a rage. "Where's the place? Show
it to me. But wait a minute till I run back and git my pardner."

"Gi' me that licker fust," shouted Groundhog, but Shorty was already
running back for Si. When he returned with him he threw the canteen to
Groundhog with the order, "Go ahead and show us the place."

By the time they came in sight of the sutler's shanty the boys had
finished their breakfast and were moving off after Billings.

"There's your man and there's your boys," said Groundhog, pointing to
them. "Now gi' me that 'ere sawbuck. You'll have to excuse me havin'
anything to do with old Billings. He's licked me twice already."

Shorty shoved the bill into his hand, and rushed down in front of
Billings.

"Here, you black-whiskered old roustabout, where 're you takin' them
boys?" he demanded.

"Git out o' my way, you red-headed snipe," answered Billings, making a
motion as if to brush him away.

"If you don't go off and leave them boys alone I'll belt you over the
head with my gun," said Si, raising his musket.

"You drunken maverick," answered Billings, trying to brave it out. "I'll
have you shot for insultin' and threatenin' your sooperior officer. Skip
out o' here before the Provo comes up and ketches you. Let me go on
about my business. Forward, boys."

"Officer nothin'. You can't play that on us," said Si. "Halt, there,
boys, and stand fast."

A crowd of teamsters, sutlers' men and other camp followers gathered
around. A tall, sandybearded man with keen, gray eyes and a rugged,
stony face rode up. He wore a shabby slouch hat, his coat was old and
weather-stained, but he rode a spirited horse.

"Here, what's all this row about?" he asked in quick, sharp tones.

"Keep out o' this mix," said Shorty, without looking around. "'Tain't
none o' your business. This is our party." With that he made a snatch at
Billings's collar to jerk him out of the way.

"What, you rascal, would you assault an officer?" said the newcomer,
spurring his horse through the crowd to get at Shorty.

He Ain't No Officer 27

"He ain't no officer, General," said Si, catching sight of two dim stars
on the man's shoulders. "He's tryin' to steal our recruits from us."

"Yes, I am an officer," said Billings, avoiding Shorty's clutch. "These
men are assaultin' me while I'm on duty. I want them arrested and
punished."

"Fall back there, both of you," said the General severely, as Si and
Shorty came to a present arms. "Sergeant, who are you, and where do you
belong?"

"I'm Serg't Klegg, sir, of Co. Q, 200th Injianny Volunteer Infantry."

"Who are you, Corporal?"

"I'm Corp'l Elliott, sir, of Co. Q, 200th Injianny Volunteer Infantry."

"Now, officer, who are you?"

"I'm Lieut.-Col. Billings, sir."

"Where's your shoulder-straps?"

"I had 'em taken off this coat to git fixed. They were torn."

"Where's your sword?"

"I left it in my quarters."

"Fine officer, to go on duty that way. Where do you belong?"

Billings hesitated an instant, but he felt sure that the General did not
belong to the Army of the Cumberland, and he answered:

"I belong to the 200th Ind."

"That ain't true, General," Si protested. "He was fired out of the
regiment a year ago. He's a citizen."

"Silence, Sergeant. Billings? Billings? The name of the Lieutenant-
Colonel of the 200th Ind. happens to be McBiddle\x97one-armed man, good
soldier. Billings? Billings? T. J. Billings? Is that your name?"

"Yes, sir," answered Billings, beginning to look very uncomfortable.

"Didn't you have some trouble about a bunch of cattle you sold to the
Quartermaster-General?"

"Well, there was little difference of opinion, but\x97"

"That'll do, sir. That'll do for the present. I begin to get you placed.
I thought I knew the name Billings as soon as you spoke it, but I
couldn't remember any officer in my army of that name. Now, Sergeant,
tell me your story."

"General, me and my pardner here," began Si, "have bin home on wounded
furlough. Wounded at Chickamauga and promoted. We got orders to bring on
this squad o' recruits from Jeffersonville for our rijimint. We got in
last night and this mornin' me and my pardner started out to see if we
could find someone to direct us to the rijimint, leavin' the squad alone
for a few minutes. While we wuz gone this feller, who's bin fired out of
our rijimint and another one that he was in, come along and tolled our
boys off, intendin' to sneak 'em into another rijimint and git pay for
'em. By great good luck we ketched him in time, just before you come up.
You kin ask the boys themselves if I hain't told you the truth."

"Good idea," said the General, in his quick, peremptory way. "You three
(indicating Si, Shorty and Billings) march off there 25 paces, while I
talk to the boys."

Gen. Sherman, for it was the Commander of the Military Division of the
Mississippi, who, with his usual impetuous, thorough way, would
investigate even the most insignificant affair in his camps, when the
humor seized him, now sprang from his horse, and began a sharp, nervous
cross-questioning of the boys as to their names, residence, ages, how
they came there and whither they were bound.

"You came down with this Sergeant and Corporal, did you? You were
recruited for the 200th Ind., were you? You were put under the charge of
those men to be taken to your regiment?" he asked Pete Skidmore, at the
end of the line.

"Yes, sir," blubbered Pete. "And they are always losin' us, particularly
me, durn 'em. Spite of all I kin say to 'em they'll lose me, durn their
skins."

"No, my boy, you sha'n't be lost," said the General kindly, as he
remounted. "Stick to our command and you'll come through all right.
Billings, you thorough-paced rascal, I want you to get to the other side
of the Ohio River as quickly as the trains will carry you. I haven't
time to deal with you as you deserve, but if I have occasion to speak to
you again you'll rue it as long as you live. There's a train getting
ready to go out. If you are wise, you'll take it. Serg't Klegg and
Corp'l Elliott, you deserve to lose your stripes for both of you leaving
your squad at the same time. See that you don't do it again. You'll find
the 200th Ind. in camp on the east side of Mission Ridge, about a mile
south of Rossville Gap. Go out this road until you pass old John Ross's
house about a half a mile. You'll find several roads leading off to the
right, but don't take any of them till you come to one that turns off by
a sweet gum and a honey-locust standing together on the banks of a
creek. Understand? A sweet gum and a honey-locust standing together on
the banks of a creek. Turn off there, go across the mountain and you'll
find your camp. Move promptly now."

"I declare," said a big Wagonmaster, as the General galloped off, "if
that old Gump Sherman don't beat the world. He not only knows where
every regiment in his whole army is located, but I believe he knows
every man in it. He's a far-reacher, I tell you."

"Great Jehosephat," gasped Shorty, "was that Gen. Tecumseh Sherman?"

"As sure 's you're a foot high," replied the Wagonmaster.

"And I told him to mind his own business," stammered Shorty.

"Yes, and if it hadn't bin for him you'd 'a' lost us, durn it,"
ejaculated little Pete Skidmore.



CHAPTER III. THE PARTNERS GET BACK TO THEIR REGIMENT AT LAST WITH ALL
THEIR RECRUITS.

SI AND SHORTY were too glad to get their boys back, and too eager to
find their regiment, to waste any time in scolding the derelicts.

"Now that you boys have had a good breakfast," Si remarked with an
accent of cutting sarcasm, "at the expense of that kind-hearted
gentleman, Mr. Billings, I'm goin' to give you a pleasant little
exercise in the shape of a forced march. If you don't make the distance
between here and the other side o' Rossville Gap quicker'n ary squad has
ever made it I'm much mistaken. Shorty, put yourself on the left and
bring up the rear."

"You bet," answered Shorty, "and I'll take durned good care I don't lose
little Pete Skidmore."

"Now," commanded Si, getting a good lay of the ground toward the gap,
"Attention. All ready? Forward, march."

He led off with the long march stride of the veteran, and began
threading his way through the maze of teams, batteries, herds, and
marching men and stragglers with the ease and certainty born of long
acquaintance with crowded camps. He dodged around a regiment here,
avoided a train there, and slipped through a marching battery at the
next place with a swift, unresting progress that quickly took away the
boys' wind and made them pant with the exertion of keeping up.

In the rear was the relentless Shorty.

"Close up, there! Close up!" he kept shouting to those in front. "Don't
allow no gaps between you. Keep marchin' distance\x9719 inches from back to
breast. Come along, Pete. I ain't a-goin' to lose you, no matter what
happens."

"Sarjint," gasped flarry Joslyn, after they had gone a couple of miles,
"don't you call this purty fast marchin'?"

"Naah," said Si contemptuously. "We're just crawlin' along. Wait till we
git where it's a little clear, and then we'll go. Here, cut acrost ahead
o' that battery that's comin' up a-trot."

There was a rush for another mile or two, when there was a momentary
halt to allow a regiment of cavalry to go by at a quick walk.

"Goodness," murmured Gid Mackall, as he set down the carpet-sack which
he would persist in carrying, "are they always in a hurry? I s'posed
that when soldiers wuzzent marchin' or fightin' they lay around camp and
played cards and stole chickens, and wrote letters home, but everybody
'round here seems on the dead rush."

"Don't seem to be nobody pic-nickin' as far's I kin see," responded Si,
"but we hain't no time to talk about it now. We must git to the
rijimint. Forward!"

Another swift push of two or three miles brought them toward the foot of
Mission Ridge, and near the little, unpainted frame house which had once
been the home of John Ross, the chief of the Cherokees.

"Boys, there's the shebang or palace of the big Injun who used to be
king of all these mountains and valleys," said Si, stopping the squad to
give them a much needed rest. "He run this whole country, and had Injuns
to burn, though he generally preferred to burn them that didn't belong
to his church."

"Roasted his neighbors instid o' his friends in a heathen sort of a
way," continued Shorty.

"What was his name?" inquired Monty Scruggs.

"John Ross."

"Humph, not much of a name," said Monty in a disappointed tone, for he
had been an assiduous reader of dime novels. "'Tain't anything like as
fine as Tecumseh, and Osceola, and Powhatan, and Jibbeninosay, and Man-
Afraid-of-Gettin'-His-Neck-Broke. Wasn't much of a big Injun."

"Deed he was," answered Si. "He and his fathers before him run' this
whole neck o' woods accordin' to the big Injun taste, and give the Army
o' the United States all they wanted to do. Used to knock all the other
Injuns around here about like ten-pins. The Rosses were bosses from the
word go."

"Don't sound right, though," said Monty regretfully. "And such a shack
as that don't look like the wigwam of a great chief. 'Tain't any
different from the hired men's houses on the farms in Injianny."

"Well, all the same, it's got to go for the scene of a cord o' dime
novels," said Shorty. "We've brung in civilization and modern
improvements and killed more men around here in a hour o' working time
than the ignorant, screechin' Injuns killed since the flood."

"Do them rijimints look like the 200th Injianny?" anxiously inquired
Harry Joslyn, pointing to some camps on the mountain-side, where the men
were drilling and engaged in other soldierly duties.

"Them," snorted Shorty contemptuously. "Them's only recruits that ain't
got licked into shape yet. When you see the 200th Injianny you'll see a
rijimint, I tell you. Best one in the army. You ought to be mighty proud
you got a chanst to git into sich a rijimint."

"We are; we are," the boys assured him. "But we're awful anxious to see
jest what it's like."

"Well, you'll see in a little while the boss lot o' boys. Every one of
'em fightin' cocks, thoroughbred\x97not a dunghill feather or strain in the
lot. Weeded 'em all out long ago. All straight-cut gentlemen. They'll
welcome you like brothers and skin you out of every cent o' your bounty,
if you play cards with 'em. They're a dandy crowd when it comes to
fingerin' the pasteboards. They'll be regler fathers to you, but you
don't want to play no cards with 'em."

"I thought you said they wuz all gentlemen and would be regler brothers
to us," said Harry Joslyn.

"So they will\x97so they will. But your brother's the feller that you've
got to watch clostest when he's settin' in front o' you with one little
pair. He's the feller that's most likely to know all you know about the
cards and what he knows besides. They've bin skinnin' one another so
long that they'll be as anxious to git at your fresh young blood as a
New Orleans skeeter is to sink into a man just from the North."

"Didn't think they'd allow gambling in so good a regiment as the 200th
Ind.," remarked Alf Russell, who was a devoted attendant on Sunday
school.

"Don't allow it. It's strictly prohibited."

"But I thought that in the army you carried out orders, if you had to
kill men."

"Well, there's orders and orders," said Shorty, philosophically. "Most
of 'em you obey to the last curl on the letter R, and do it with a jump.
Some of 'em you obey only when you have to, and take your chances at
improving the State o' Tennessee by buildin' roads and diggin' up stumps
in the parade ground if you're ketched not mindin'. Of them kind is the
orders agin gamblin'."

"Shorty, stop talkin' to the boys about gamblin'. I won't have it,"
commanded Si. "Boys, you mustn't play cards on no account, especially
with older men. It's strictly agin orders, besides which I'll break any
o' your necks that I ketch at it. You must take care o' your money and
send it home. Forward, march."

They went up the road from the John Ross house until they came to that
turning off to the right by a sweet gum and a sycamore, as indicated by
Gen. Sherman, and then began a labored climbing of the rough, stony way
across Mission Ridge. Si's and Shorty's eagerness to get to the regiment
increased so with their nearness to it that they went at a terrific pace
in spite of all obstacles.

"Please, Sarjint," begged Gid Mackall, as they halted for an instant
near a large rock, "need we go quite so fast? We're awfully anxious to
git to the regiment, too, but I feel like as if I'd stove two inches
offen my legs already against them blamed rocks."

"I can't keep up. I can't keep up at all," whimpered little Pete
Skidmore. "You are just dead certain to lose me."

"Pull out just a little more, boys," Si said pleasantly. "We must be
almost there. It can't be but a little ways now."

"Close up there in front!" commanded Shorty. "Keep marchin' distance\x9719
inches from back to breast. Come on, Pete. Gi' me your hand; I'll help
you along."

"I ain't no kid, to be led along by the hand," answered Pete sturdily,
refusing the offer. "I'll keep up somehow. But you can't expect my short
legs to cover as much ground as them telegraph poles o' your'n."

The summit of the ridge was crossed and a number of camps appeared along
the slope.

"Wonder which one o' them is the 200th Injianny's?" said Si to Shorty.

"I thought the 200th Injianny was so much finer rijimint than any other
that you'd know it at sight," said Harry Joslyn, with a shade of
disappointment in his voice.

"I would know it if I was sure I was lookin' at it," answered Shorty.
"But they seem to have picked out all the best rijimints in the army to
go into camp here this side o' Mission Ridge. Mebbe they want to make
the best show to the enemy."

"That looks like the camp o' the 200th Injianny over there," said Si,
pointing to the right, after scanning the mountain-side. "See all them
red shirts hangin' out to dry? That's Co. A; they run to red flannel
shirts like a nigger barber to striped pants."

"No," answered Shorty; "that's that Ohio rijimint, made up o' rollin'
mill men and molders. They all wear red flannel shirts. There's the
200th Injianny just down there to the left, with all them men on extra
duty on the parade ground. I know just the gang. Same old crowd; I kin
almost tell their faces. They've bin runnin' guard, as usual, and comin'
back full o' apple-jack and bad language and desire to give the camp a
heavy coat o' red paint. Old McBiddle has tried to convince 'em that he
was still runnin' the rijimint, and his idees wuz better 'n theirs, and
there they are. There's Jim Monaghan handlin' that pick as if he was in
the last stages o' consumption. There's Barney' Maguire, pickin' up
three twigs 'bout as big as lead pencils, and solemnly carryin' 'em off
the parade ground as if they wuz fence-rails. I'll just bet a month's
pay that's Denny Murphy marchin' up and down there with his knapsack
filled with Tennessee dornicks. Denny's done that feather-weight
knapsack trick so often that his shoulders have corns and windgalls on
'em, and they always keep a knapsack packed for him at the guard-house
ready for one of his Donnybrook fair songs and dances. Mighty good boy,
Denny, but he kin git up a red-hotter riot on his share of a canteen of
apple-jack than any three men in the rijimint. That feller tied to a
tree is Tony Wilson. He's refused to dig trenches agin. O, I tell you,
they're a daisy lot."

"Shorty," admonished Si. "You mustn't talk that way before the boys.
What'll they think o' the rijimint?"

"Think of it?" said Shorty, recovering himself. "They've got to think of
it as the very best rijimint that ever stood in line-of-battle. I'll
punch the head of any man that says anything to the contrary. Every man
in it is a high-toned, Christian gentleman. Mind that, now, every one of
you brats, and don't you allow nobody to say otherwise."

"No," said Si, after further study of the camps, "neither o' them 's the
200th Injianny. They've both got brass bands. Must be new rijimints."

"Say," said Shorty, "there's a royal lookin' rooster standin' up in
front of that little house there. Looks as if the house was headquarters
for some highroller, and him doin' Orderly duty. If he knows as much as
he's got style, he knows more'n old Sherman himself. Go up and ask him."

It was the first time in all their service that either of them had seen
a soldier in the full dress prescribed by the United States Army
regulations, and this man had clearly won the coveted detail of Orderly
by competition with his comrades as being the neatest, best-dressed man
in the squad. He was a tall, fine-looking young man, wearing white
gloves and a paper collar, with a spotless dress coat buttoned to the
chin, his shoes shining like mirrors, his buttons and belt-plates like
new gold, and his regulation hat caught up on the left side with a
feather and a gilt eagle. The front of his hat was a mass of gilt
letters and figures and a bugle, indicating his company, regiment and
State. On his breast was a large, red star.

"Jehosephat," sighed Shorty. "I wish I had as many dollars as he has
style. Must be one of old Abe's body guards, sent out here with Grant's
commission as Lieutenant-General. Expect that red star passes him on the
railroads and at the hotels. I'd like to play him two games out o'
three, cut-throat, for it. I could use it in my business."

"No," said the Orderly to Si, with a strong Yankee twang, "I don't know
a mite about the 200th Ind. Leastwise, I don't remember it. Everybody
down here's from Indiana, Ohio or Illinois. It's one eternal mix, like
Uncle Jed Stover's fish\x97couldn't tell shad, herring nor sprat from one
another. It seems to me more like a 'tarnal big town-meeting than an
army. All talk alike, and have got just as much to say; all act alike.
Can't tell where an Indiana regiment leaves off and Ohio one begins;
can't tell officer from private, everybody dresses as he pleases, and
half of them don't wear anything to tell where they belong. There wasn't
a corps badge in the whole army when we come here."

"Corps badges\x97what's them?" asked Si.

"Corps badges? Why this is one," said the man, tapping his red star.
"This shows I belong to the Twelfth Corps\x97best corps in the Army of the
Potomac, and the First Division\x97best division in the corps. We have to
wear them so's to show our General which are his men, and where they be.
Haven't you no corps badges?"

"Our General don't have to tag us," said Shorty, who had come up and
listened. "He knows all of us that's worth knowin', and that we'll go
wherever he orders us, and stay there till he pulls us off. Our corps
badge's a full haversack and Springfield rifle sighted up to 1,200
yards."

"Well, you do fight in a most amazing way," said the Orderly, cordially.
"We never believed it of such rag-tag and bobtail until we saw you go up
over Mission Ridge. You were all straggling then, but you were
straggling toward the enemy. Never saw such a mob, but it made the
rebels sick."

"Well, if you'd seen us bustin' your old friend Long-street at Snodgrass
Hill, you'd seen some hefightin'. We learned him that he wasn't
monkeyin' with the Army o' the Potomac, but with fellers that wuz down
there for business, and not to wear paper collars and shine their
buttons. He come at us seven times before we could git that little fact
through his head, and we piled up his dead like cordwood."

"Well, you didn't do any better than we did with Early's men at Gulp's
Hill, if we do wear paper collars," returned the other proudly. "After
we got through with Johnston's Division you couldn't see the ground in
front for the dead and wounded. And none of your men got up on Lookout
Mountain any quicker'n we did. Paper collars and red stars showed you
the way right along."

"My pardner's only envious because he hain't no paper collars nor fine
clothes," said Si, conciliatorily. "I've often told him that if he'd
leave chuck-a-luck alone and save his money he'd be able to dress
better'n Gen. Grant."

"Gen. Grant's no great shakes as a dresser," returned the other. "I was
never so surprised in my life as one day when I was Orderly at Division
Headquarters, and a short man with a red beard, and his clothes
spattered with mud, rode up, followed by one Orderly, and said,
'Orderly, tell the General that Gen. Grant would like to see him.' By
looking hard I managed to make out three stars on his shoulder. Why, if
Gen. McClellan had been coming you'd have seen him for a mile before he
got there."

"If Gen. Grant put on as much style in proportion to what he done as
McClellan, you could see him as far as the moon," ventured Shorty.

"Well, we're not gettin' to the rijimint," said the impatient Si. "Le's
rack on. So long, Orderly. Come and see us in the 200th Injianny and
we'll treat you white. Forward, march!"

"There's a couple of boys comin' up the road. Probably they kin tell us
where the rijimint is," suggested Shorty.

The two boys were evidently recruits of some months' standing, but not
yet considered seasoned soldiers.

"No," they said, "there is no 200th Ind. here now. It was here
yesterday, and was camped right over there, where you see that old camp,
but before noon came an order to march with three days' rations and 40
rounds. It went out the Lafayette Road, and the boys seemed to think
they wuz goin' out to Pigeon Mountain to begin the general advance o'
the army, and wuz mightily tickled over it."

"Gone away," said Si, scanning the abandoned camp sadly; "everybody
couldn't have gone. They must've left somebody behind that wasn't able
to travel, and somebody to take care o' 'em. They must've left some
rijimintal stuff behind and a guard over it."

"No," the boys assured him. "They broke up camp completely. All that
wasn't able to march was sent to the hospital in Chattynoogy. Every mite
of stuff was loaded into wagons and hauled off with 'em. They never
expected to come back."

"That camp ground don't look as it'd bin occupied for two weeks," said
Shorty. "See the ruts made by the rain in the parade ground and the
general look o' things. I don't believe the rijimint only left there
yisterday. It don't look as if the 200th Injianny ever had sich a camp.
It's more like one o' the camps o' them slack-twisted Kaintucky and
Tennessee rijimints."

"If Oi didn't belave that Si Klegg and Sharty was did intoirely, and up
home in Injianny, Oi'd be sure that was their v'ices," said a voice from
the thicket by the side of the road. The next instant a redheaded man,
with a very distinct map of Ireland in his face, leaped out, shouting:


041 (105K)


"Si and Sharty, ye thieves of the worruld, whin did ye get back, and how
are yez? Howly saints, but Oi'm glad to see yez."

"Jim Monaghan, you old Erin-go-bragh," said Shorty, putting his arm
around the man's neck, "may I never see the back o' my neck, but I'm
glad to see you. I was just talkin' about you. I thought I recognized
you over there in one of the camps, at your favorite occupation of extry
dooty, cleanin' up the parade ground."

"No; Oi've not bin on extry doty for narely two wakes now, but it's
about due. But here comes Barney Maguire and Con Taylor, Tony Wilson and
the rest iv the gang. Lord love yez, but they'll be surely glad to see
yez."

The others came up with a tumultuous welcome to both.

"Where's the camp?" asked Si.

"Jist bey ant\x97jist bey ant them cedars there\x97not a musket-shot away,"
answered Jim, pointing to the place.

"What'd you mean, you infernal liars, by tellin' us that the rijimint
was gone?" said Shorty, wrathfully to the men whom he had met, and who
were still standing near, looking puzzled at the demonstrations.

"Aisy, now, aisy," said Jim. "We're to blame for that, so we are. Ye
say, we wint over by Rossville last night and had a bit av a shindy and
cleaned out a sutler's shop. We brought away some av the most illegant
whisky that iver wet a man's lips, and hid it down there in the gulch,
where we had jist come back for it. We sane you comin' and thought yez
was the provo-guard after us. Ye say ye stopped there and talked to that
peacock at the Provo-Marshal's quarters, and we thought yez was gittin'
instructions. We sint these rookies out, who we thought nobody'd know,
to give you a little fairy story about the rijimint being gone, to throw
you off the scint, until we could finish the liquor."

"Yes, I know," laughed Shorty, "after you'd got the budge down you
didn't care what happened. You're the same old brick-topped Connaught
Ranger."

"You and Si come down into the gulch and jine us."

"Can't think of it for a minute," said Shorty with great self-denial.
"Don't speak so loud before these boys. They're recruits for the
rijimint. We must take 'em into camp. We'll see you later."



CHAPTER IV. THE RECRUITS ARE ASSIGNED TO COMPANIES.

THE strangest feeling possessed Si and Shorty when once in the camp of
their old regiment, and after the first hearty welcome of their comrades
was over.

There was a strangeness about everything that they could not comprehend.

It was their regiment\x97the 200th Ind.; it was made up of the same
companies, with the great majority of the men the same, but it was very
far from being the 200th Ind. which crossed the Ohio River in September,
1862.

Marvelous changes had been wrought by 18 months' tuition in the iron
school of war, in the 10 separate herds of undisciplined farmer boys
which originally constituted the regiment. Yellow, downy beards appeared
on faces which had been of boyish smoothness when the river was crossed,
but this was only one of the minor changes. There was an alertness, a
sureness, a self-confidence shining from eyes which was even more
marked. Every one carried himself as if he knew precisely what he was
there for, and intended doing it. There was enough merriment around
camp, but it was very different from the noisy rollicking of the earlier
days. The men who had something to do were doing it with systematic
earnestness; the men who had nothing to do were getting as much solid
comfort and fun as the situation afforded. The frothy element among
officers and men had been rigorously weeded out or repressed. All that
remained were soldiers in the truest sense of the word. The change had
been very great even since the regiment had lined up for the fearful
ordeal of Chickamauga.

"Did you ever see a gang o' half-baked kids get to be men as quick as
these boys?" Si asked Shorty. "Think o' the awkward squads that used to
be continually fallin' over their own feet, and stabbing theirselves
with their own bayonets."

"Seems so," answered Shorty, "but I don't know that they've growed any
faster'n we have. Walt Slusser, who's bin Orderly at Headquarters, says
that he heard Capt. McGillicuddy tell Col. McBiddle that he'd never seen
men come out as me and you had, and he thought we'd make very effective
noncommish."

"Probably we've all growed," Si assented thoughtfully. "Just think o'
McBiddle as Lieutenant-Colonel, in place o' old Billings. Remember the
first time we saw McBiddle to know him? That time he was Sergeant o' the
Guard before Perryville, and was so gentle and soft-spoken that lots o'
the boys fooled themselves with the idee that he lacked sand. Same
fellers thought that old bellerin' bull Billings was a great fightin'
man. What chumps we all wuz that we stood Billings a week."

"Wonder if I'm ever goin' to have a chanst for a little private sociable
with Billings? Just as I think I'm goin' to have it, something
interferes. That feller's bin so long ripe for a lickin' that I'm afraid
he'll be completely spiled before my chanst comes."

"But I can't git over missin' so many familiar voices in command, and
hearin' others in their places," said Si. "That battalion drill they wuz
havin' as we come in didn't sound like our rijimint at all. I could
always tell which was our rijimint drillin' half a mile away by the
sound of the voices. What a ringin' voice Capt. Scudder had. It beat the
bugle. You could hear him sing out, 'Co. C, on right, into line!
Forward, guide right\x97March!' farther'n you could the bugle. The last
time I heard him wuz as we wuz' going up Snodgrass Hill. A rebel bullet
went through his head just as he said, 'March!' Now, Lieut. Scripps is
in command o' Co. C, and he's got a penny-whistle voice that I can't git
used to."

"Lieut. Scripps's a mighty good man. He'll take Co. C as far as Capt.
Scudder would."

"I know that Scripps's all right. No discount on him. But it don't seem
natural, that's all. Every one o' the companies except ours has a new
man in command, and in ours Capt. McGillicuddy's voice has got a
different ring to it than before Chickamaugy."

"Practicin' to command the battalion," suggested Shorty. "You know he'll
be Major if McBiddle's made a full Kurnel."

"That reminds me," said Shorty, "that our squad o' recruits'll probably
fill up the rijimint so's to give McBiddle his eagle. They'll be 'round
presently to divide up the squad and assign 'em to companies. As all the
companies is about equally strong, they'll divide 'em equally\x97that'll
make six and one-half boys to each company. Capt. McGillicuddy bein' the
senior Captain, is to have first choice. We want to pick out the best
six and one-half for our company and put 'em in one squad at the right
or left, and give the Captain the wink to choose 'em."

"If we do it's got to be done mighty slick," said Si. "They're all
mighty good boys, and spunky. They'll all want to go with us, and if
they find out we've made any choice they'll never forgive us. I'd a'most
as soon have one six boys as another, yit if I had to pick out six I
believe I'd take Harry Joslyn, Gid Mackall, Alf Russell, Monty Scruggs,
Jim Humphreys and Sandy Baker."

"And Pete Skidmore," added Shorty. "We've got to take special care o'
that little rat. Besides, I want to. Somehow I've took quite a fancy to
the brat."

"Yes, we must take little Pete," assented Si. "The proportion's six and
one-half to a company. He 'll pass for the half man. But it won't do to
let him know it. He thinks he's as big as any man in the rijimint. But
how're we goin' to fix it not to let the other boys know that we've
picked 'em out?"

"I'll tell you what we'll do," said Shorty, the man of many wiles. "When
the boys are drawed up in line and Capt. McGillicuddy goes down it to
pick 'em out, you stand at attention, two paces in front, facin' 'em and
lookin' as severe and impartial as a judge on the bench. I'll stand
behind you with my leg against your'n, this way, and apparently fixing
my gun-lock. When Cap comes in front o' one that we want, yo give me a
little hunch with your leg, and I'll make the lock click."

"Splendid idee," said Si. "I'll go and post the Cap while you git the
boys into line."

When Shorty returned to the squad he found them in feverish excitement
about the distribution to the different companies. As he and Si had
apprehended, all were exceedingly anxious to go with them into Co. Q,
which Si and Shorty had unwittingly impressed upon them was the crack
company of the regiment, and contained the very cream of the men. To be
assigned to any other company seemed to them, if not an actual
misfortune, a lack of good luck.

"Nonsense," Shorty replied to their eager entreaties; "all the companies
in the 200th Injianny is good, prime, first-class\x97better'n the companies
in ary other rijimint. You're playin' in great luck to git into any one
o' 'em, I tell you. You might've got into one o' 'em rijimints that're
back there at Nashville guardin' fortifications, or one o' 'em that lost
their colors at Chickamaugy. I'd ruther be the tail end o' the 200th
Injianny, than the Drum Major o' any other."

"That's all right," they shouted. "We're glad we're in the 200th
Injianny, but we want to be in Co. Q."

"Well, you can't all be in Co. Q. Only six and one-half of you. The
rest's got to go to other companies."

"Say, Corpril," spoke up Harry Joslyn, "you'll see that I git in, won't
you? You know I shot that rebel at the burnt bridge."

"And didn't I shoot one, too?" put in Gid Mackall. "Just as much as you
did. They want tall men in the company, don't they, Corpril? Not little
runts."

"And didn't I watch the crossing down there at the burnt bridge?"
pleaded Jim Humphreys.

"And git scared to death by a nigger huntin' coons," laughed the others.

"Who kept the rebel from gittin' back to the train and settin' it on
fire, but me and Sandy Baker?" piped up little Pete Skidmore. "Who got
lost, and nearly killed by a locomotive. Don't that count for nothin'?"

You've Lost Little Pete 51

"Boys," said Shorty, leaning on his musket, and speaking with the utmost
gravity, "this's a great military dooty and must be performed without
fear, favor nor affection. I'd like to have you all in Co. Q, but this's
a thing 'bout which I hain't got no say. There's a great many things in
the army 'bout which a Corpril hain't as much inflooence as he orter
have, as you'll find out later on. Here comes the Captain o' Co. Q, who,
because o' his rank, has the first pick o' the recruits. He's never seen
you before, and don't know one o' you from Adam's off-ox. He has his own
ideas as to who he wants in the company, and what he says goes. It may
be that the color o' your hair'll decide him, mebbe the look in your
eyes, mebbe the shape o' your noses. 'Tention! Right dress! Front!
Saloot!"

Capt. McGillicuddy came down at the head of the company officers of the
regiment, and took a comprehensive survey of the squad.

"Fine-looking lot of youngsters," he remarked. "They'll make good
soldiers."

"Every one o' them true-blue, all wool and a yard wide. Captain," said
Si.

"You'll play fair, now, Captain, won't you, and choose for yourself?"
said Capt. Scripps. "I've no doubt they're all good boys, but there's a
choice in good boys, and that Sergeant of yours has learned where the
choice is. You let him stay back, while you go down the line yourself."

"Certainly," replied Capt. McGillicuddy. "Serg't Klegg, stay where you
are."

Si saluted and took his position, facing the line, with a look of calm
impartiality upon his face. Shorty turned around and backed up to him so
that the calves of their legs touched, and began intently studying his
gunlock.

Capt. McGillicuddy stepped over to the right of the line stopped in
front of Harry Joslyn and Gid Mackall. Shorty full-cocked his gun with
two sharp clicks.

"You two step forward one pace," said Capt. McGillicuddy to the two
radiant boys, who obeyed with a jump. The Captain walked on down the
line, carefully scrutinizing each one, but did not stop until Shorty's
gun clicked twice, when he was in front of Alf Russell and Monty
Scruggs.

"Step forward one pace," he commanded.

He proceeded on down the line until he came in front of Jim Humphreys
and Sandy Baker, when Shorty's gun clicked again.

"You two step forward one pace," he commanded. "Gentleman, I've got my
six. The rest are yours."

"But you hain't got me. You've lost me," screamed Pete Skidmore,
dismayed at being separated from Sandy Baker. Shorty's gun clicked
again.

"I believe that there is a fraction of a half a man to be distributed
around," the Captain said, turning to the other officers. "We agreed to
draw cuts for that choice. But as that's the smallest boy in the lot
I'll take him for my fraction. I think that's fair. Step forward, there,
you boy on the left."

"All right Captain," laughed Capt. Scripps. "You've got the pick of the
men, and I'm glad of it.

"I know you have, for I've been watching that Corporal of yours. I know
him of old. I've played cards too often with Shorty not to keep my eye
on him whenever he is around. I saw through that gun-lock trick."

"The trouble with you fellows," responded Capt. McGillicuddy, "is that
you are constantly hunting around for some reason rather than the real
one for Co. Q being always ahead of you. It isn't my fault that Co. Q is
the best company in the regiment. It simply comes natural to the men
that make up the company. You gentlemen divide up the rest among you,
and then come down to the sutler's and we'll talk the matter over.
Serg't Klegg, take these men down to the company and have the Orderly
provide for them."

"Hello, awful glad to see you back\x97and you, too, Shorty," said the busy
Orderly-Sergeant, speaking in his usual short, snappy sentences, without
using any more words than absolutely necessary. "We need you. Short of
non-commish. Two Sergeants off on detached duty and two Corporals in
hospital. Being worked for all we're worth. Both of you look fine. Had a
nice, long rest. In great shape for work. Pitch in, now, and help me.
First, let's get the names of these kids on the roll. Humphreys\x97we've
got two other Humphreys, so you'll answer to Humphreys, 3d.

"But I don't want to be with the Humphreys, sir," broke in Jim. "Me and
Monty Scruggs\x97"

"Hold your tongue," said the Orderly sharply. "Don't interrupt me. If
you speak when you're spoken to you'll do all the talking expected of
you.

"Joslyn, you're after Jones, 3d. M\x97M\x97Mackall, you come after Lawrence."

"But you've put me after Joslyn," protested Gid. "He's never ahead of
me."

"Shut up," answered the Orderly. "I do the talking for this company.
Russell, Scruggs, Skidmore; there, I've got 'em all down. Si, go down
toward Co. A and find Bill Stiles and walk him up to the guard-tent and
leave him there to cool off. He's got his hide full of coffin varnish
somewhere, and of course wants to settle an old score with that Co. A
man, who'll likely knock his head off if he catches him. Shorty, go back
there to the cook tent and shake up those cooks. Give it to them, for
they're getting lazier every day. I want supper ready as soon's we come
off dress parade. Here, you boys, trot along after me to the
Quartermaster's tent, and draw your blankets, tents, haversacks and
canteens. Shorty, as soon's you're through with the cooks, go to the
left of the company and start to fixing up a place for these boys'
tents. Si, get back as soon's you can, for I want you to take the squad
down after rations. Then you'll have to relieve Jake Warder as Sergeant
of the Guard, for Jake's hardly able to be around."

The Orderly strode off toward the Quartermaster's tent at such a pace
that it gave the boys all they could do to keep up with him. Arriving
there he called out sharply to the Quartermaster-Sergeant:

"Wes, give me seven blankets."

That official responded by tossing the required number, one after
another, counting them as he did so. As the Orderly caught them he
tossed them to the boys, calling their names. Gid Mackall happened to be
looking at a battery of artillery when his name was called, and received
the blanket on the back of his neck, knocking him over.

"'Tend to your business, there; don't be gawking around," said the
Orderly sternly. "Now, Wes, seven halves of pup-tents."

These were tossed and counted the same way. Then followed canteens,
haversacks and tin plates and cups.

"Now, boys, there's your kits. Give you your guns tomorrow. Hurry back
to the company street and set up those tents on railroad time, for it's
going to rain. Jump, now."

When they reached Shorty he hustled them around to pitch their tents,
but he was not fast enough to please the Orderly, who presently
appeared, with the remark:

"Cesar's ghost. Shorty, how slow you are. Are you going to be all night
getting up two or three tents? Get a move on you, now, for there's a
rain coming up, and besides I want you for something else as soon's
you're through with this?"

"Who is that man, Corpril?" asked Monty Scruggs, as the Orderly left.

"That's the Orderly-Sergeant of Co. Q."

"Orderly-Sergeant?" repeated Monty dubiously. "Who's he? I've heard of
Captains, Majors, Colonels and Generals, but never of Orderly-Sergeants,
and yit he seems to be bigger'n all of 'em. He has more to say, and does
more orderin' around than all of 'em put together. He even orders you
and Sarjint Klegg. Is he the biggest man in the army?"

"Well, SO far's you're concerned and to all general purposes he is. You
needn't pay no partickler attention as a rule to nobody else, but when
the Orderly speaks, you jump, and the quicker you jump the better it'll
be for you. He don't draw as much salary, nor put on as many frills as
the bigger fellers, but you hain't nothin' to do with that. You kin find
fault with the Captain, criticize the Kurnel, and lampoon the General,
but you don't want to give the Orderly no slack. He's not to be fooled
with. Russell, run up there and snatch that spade to dig ditches around
these tents."

"When I enlisted," Monty confided to Alf Russell, "I thought I'd do my
best to become a Captain or a General. Now, I'm dead anxious to be an
Orderly-Sarjint."



CHAPTER V. THE YOUNG RECRUITS ARE GIVEN AN INITIATION INTO ARMY LIFE.

BY the time Shorty had gotten the boys fairly tented, he was ordered to
take a squad and guard some stores at the Division Quartermaster's. Si,
instead of going on camp-guard, had to go out to the grand guard. When
he came back the next morning the Orderly-Sergeant said to him:

"See here, Si, you've got to take that squad of kids you brung into your
particular charge, and lick 'em into shape. They need an awful sight of
it, and I hain't got any time to give 'em. I've something else to do
besides teaching an infant class. I never was good at bringing children
up by hand, anyway. I ain't built that way. I want you to go for them
young roosters at once, and get 'em into shape in short meter. Marching
orders may come any day, and then we want everybody up and dressed.
There'll be no time for foolishness. Those dratted little rats were all
over camp last night, and into more kinds of devilment than so many pet
crows. I've been hearing about nothing else this morning."

"Why," said Si, "I supposed that they was too tired to do anything but
lay down and go to sleep. What'd they do?"

"Better ask what they didn't do," replied the Orderly. "They done
everything that a passel o' impish school boys could think of, and what
they couldn't think of them smart Alecks down in the company put 'em up
to. I'm going to put some o' them smarties through a course o' sprouts.
I like to see boys in good spirits, and I can enjoy a joke with the next
man, but there's such a thing as being too funny. I think a few hours o'
extry fatigue duty will reduce their fever for fun."

"Why, what'd they do?" repeated Si.

"Well, in the first place, they got that Joslyn and Mackall to mark a
big number 79 on their tents, and then put the same, with their names,
on a sheet of paper, and take it up to the Captain's tent.

"The Captain was having a life-and-death rassle with Cap Summerville
over their eternal chess, when he's crosser'n two sticks, and liable to
snap your head off if you interrupt him. 'Hello, what do you want?
What's this?' says he, taking the paper."

Them's Our Names and Addresses 59

"'Them's our names and addresses,' says the brats, cool as cucumbers.
Thought we ought to give 'em to you, so's you'd know where to find us,
in case you wanted us in a hurry, say, at night.'

"The blazes it is,' says Cap, and Cap Summerville roared. 'You get back
to your quarters quick as you can run. Don't worry about my not finding
you when I want you. It's my business to find you, and I've got men to
help me do it. I'll find you sometime in a way that'll make your hair
stand up. Get out, now, and never come around my tent with any such
blamed nonsense as that.'

"And Cap Somerville took advantage of the break to snap up Cap's queen,
which made him hotter'n ever.

"When the boys got back they found them smart Alecks, Bob Walsh and Andy
Sweeney, waiting for 'em, and they consoled 'em, saying, That's just the
way with that old bull-head. Never'll take no good advice from nobody
about running' the company. Thinks he knows it all. You see how he runs
the company. He haint got the addresses o' half his men this minnit, and
don't know where they are. That's the reason so many o' our letters from
home, and the good things they send us, never reach us. He ought to keep
a regler directory, same as in the other companies.'"

"Then some o' them smarties found out that Scruggs was stuck on his
spouting. Seems that he was the star declaimer in his school. They laid
it in to him that I was soft on hearing poetry spouted, especially after
night, when the moon was up, and everything quiet in camp, and that I
was particularly tender on 'Bingen on the Rhine.' You know that if there
is anything I'm dead sore on it's that sniveling rot. There used to be a
pasty-faced boy in school that'd wail that out, and set all the girls to
bawling. Then they gave us an entertainment just before we left, and all
the girls were there, and Pasty-Face he must be the star attraction. He
wailed out his condemned old There-was-a-soldier-of-the Legion\x97laying-i-
n-Algiers, and all the girls looked at us as if we were already dead,
and they'd better look out for new beaux. My own particular geranium did
not lose any time, but married another feller before we got to Stone
River. That made me hate the blasted caterwaul worse'n ever. Then that
white-eyed, moon-struck Alfonso used to be yowling it at every chance,
until he went to the hospital, and he got all the rest so that they were
sputtering rags and tags of it. But I've been sorer than a bile on the
condemned sick calfishness ever since I brung my chum Jim Bridgewater
off the field at Chickamauga, and watched him die as the moon rose, back
there at McFarland Gap. Well, what do these smarties do but fill up
Scruggs with the idea that the best way to make himself forever solid
with me was to stroll down close to my tent and casually let off 'Bingen
on the Rhine' in his best style. I'd just got down to work on them pesky
pay-rolls, having kept Monaghan two days in the guard-house, so's to be
sure that he'd be sober enough to help me\x97and you know Monaghan's
lightning with the pen when he's sober\x97when that possessed sap-sucker
Scruggs began blatting out 'Bingen on the Rhine' till you could hear him
down to the Colonel's quarters. It made me so mad that I knocked over
the ink as I jumped up, and spoiled the triplicate rolls that we'd got
about half made out. I snatched up a club to simply mash the bawling
brat, but they got him away before I could reach 'im. They explained to
Scruggs afterward that I was subject to fits whenever the moon was in
her last quarter, and they'd forgotten to look at the almanac that
evening. O, but I'll soak 'em for that yet."

"Trouble is," said Si, laughing, "the boys've bin layin' around doin'
nothin' too long. They're fuller o' devilment than a dog is of fleas."

"But I haint told you half," continued the Orderly-Sergeant. "Them
smarties were quick to find out that Alf Russell and Jim Humphreys
leaned strongly toward religion, and they filled 'em with the idea that
Cap McGillicuddy was a very devout man, and held family devotions every
evening in his tent, in which his company joined."

"Great goodness," gasped Si. "They never heard Cap's remarks when we
balked on a right wheel in company column."

"Well," continued the Orderly, "Cap had been waxed by Cap Summerville
two games hand-running, and they were nip-and-tuck on the third, and
just as impatient and cross as they always are when they're neck-and-
neck in the last heat. The tent-flap raised, and in walked Russell and
Humphreys soft and quietlike, as if they were going into the sitting-
room for evening prayers. They had their caps in their hands, and didn't
say anything but brushed their hair back and took their seats in the
first place they could find, which happened to be Cap's cot. Cap didn't
notice 'em till after Cap Summerville had caught his queen and then
checkmated him in two moves. You know how redhot Cap gets when he loses
a game of chess, particularly to Cap Summerville, who rubs it in on him
without mercy.

"Cap looked at the boys in astonishment, and then snapped out: 'Well,
what do you boys want?' 'We've just come in for evening prayers,' says
they, mild as skimmed milk. 'Evening what?' roared the Cap. 'Evening
prayers,' says they. 'Don't you have family devotion every evening? Cap
Summerville couldn't hold in any longer, and just roared, and the
fellers outside, who'd had their ears against the canvas listening to
every word, they roared too. Cap was madder'n a July hornet, and cussed
till the ridgepole shook. Then he took the two boys by the ears and
marched 'em out and says: 'You two brats go back to your tents and stay
there. When I want you to come to my tent I'll send for you, and you'll
wish I hadn't. You'll do praying enough if you're on hand when the
church call's sounded. You'll be mightily different from the rest of my
company if you don't prefer going on guard to church. Get, now!'"

"Now the Captain oughtn't to say that about the company," protested Si.
"I for one go to church every chance I get."

"O, yes, you do," sneered the Orderly-Sergeant. "Who was it, I'd like to
know, that sent word back to the boys in the rear to steal the
Chaplain's horse, and keep him hid for a day or two so's he couldn't get
up and hold services, because you boys wanted to go fishing in the
Tennessee River?"

"Yes, I did," Si confessed; "but it was because the boys begged me to.
We'd just got there, and it looked as if the biting was good, and we
probably wouldn't stay there longer'n over Sunday."

"Well, I ain't done yet," continued the Orderly-Sergeant. "That little
snipe, Pete Skidmore\x97"

"Good gracious, he wasn't lost again, was he?" gasped Si.

"That's just what he was, the little runt, and we had the devil's own
time finding him. What in Sam Hill did the Captain take him for, I'd
like to know? Co. Q aint no nursery. Well, the bugler up at Brigade
Headquarters blowed some sort of a call, and Skidmore wanted to know
what it meant. They told him that it was an order for the youngest man
in each company to come up there and get some milk for his coffee
tomorrow morning, and butter for his bread. There was only enough issued
for the youngest boys, and if he wanted his share he'd have to get a big
hustle on him, for the feller whose nose he'd put out o' joint 'd try
hard to get there ahead o' him, and get his share. So Skidmore went off
at a dead run toward the sound of the bugle, with the boys looking after
him and snickering. But he didn't come back at roll-call, nor at tattoo,
and the smart Alecks begun to get scared, and abuse each other for
setting up a job on a poor, innocent little boy. Osc Brewster and Ol
Perry, who had been foremost in the trick had a fight as to which had
been to blame. Taps come, and he didn't get back, and then we all became
scared. I'd sent Jim Hunter over to Brigade Headquarters to look for
him, but he came back, and said they hadn't seen anything of him there.
Then I turned out the whole company to look for him. Of course, them
too-awfully smart galoots of Co. A had to get very funny over our
trouble. They asked why we didn't get the right kind of nurses for our
company, that wouldn't let the members stray out of their sight? Why we
didn't call the children in when the chickens went to roost, undress
'em, and tuck 'em in their little beds, and sing to 'em after they'd
said 'Now I lay me down to sleep?' I stood it all until that big,
hulking Pete Nasmith came down with a camp-kettle, which he was making
ring like a bell, as he yelled out, 'Child lost! Child lost!' Behind him
was Tub Rawlings singing, 'Empty's the cradle, baby's gone.' Then I
pulled off my blouse and slung it into my tent, and told 'em there went
my chevrons, and I was simply Scott Ralston, and able to lick any man in
Co. A. One o' their Lieutenants came out and ordered them back to their
quarters, and I deployed the company in a skirmish-line, and started 'em
through the brush toward Brigade Headquarters. About three-quarters o'
the way Osc Brewster and Ol Perry, when going through a thicket, heard a
boy boo-hooing. They made their way to him, and there was little
Skidmore sitting on a stump, completely confused and fagged out. He'd
lost his way, and the more he tried to find it the worse he got turned
around. They called out to him, and he blubbered out: 'Yes, it's me;
little Pete Skidmore. Them doddurned fools in my company 've lost me,
just as I've bin tellin' 'em right along they would, durn 'em.' Osc and
Ol were so tickled at finding him that they gathered him up, and come
whooping back to camp, carrying him every step of the way."

"Well, I declare to gracious," ejaculated Si. "But there's one left yet.
Didn't anything happen to Sandy Baker?"

"O, yes," groaned the Orderly. "He had to be in it, too. He took
advantage of the tumult to fall into the company well. We didn't know
anything about it till we come back from hunting Skidmore. By that time
he was so chilled that he could hardly holler any more, and his teeth
chattered like a nigger minstrel's bones. I'd got a can of brandied
peaches down at the sutler's, and it took all the brandy to bring him
around, and I had nothing left but the peaches. Now, while I like a
little variety in camp-life as well as the next man, I don't want no
more ructions like last night's. I'll put you in charge of those kids,
and hold you responsible for 'em. I don't care what you do with 'em, so
long's you keep 'em quiet, and don't disturb the company. Kill 'em, if
you want to, but keep 'em quiet. I've got to finish up them pay-rolls
tonight."

"You bet me and Shorty'll stop these smart Alecks from imposin' on the
poor little greenies," asserted Si.



CHAPTER VI. SI KLEGG PUTS HIS AWKWARD SQUAD THROUGH ITS FIRST DRILL

"I GUESS," thought Si, as he left the Orderly-Sergeant, and walked down
the company street to the left, "that the best way to begin is to get
them little whelps into an awkward squad, and give 'em an hour or two o'
sharp drillin'. That'll introduce 'em to the realities o' soljerin'."

It was a warm, bright March day, with the North Georgia mountains
rapidly robing themselves in fresh green, to welcome the coming Spring.
The effervescent boys had entirely forgotten the worries of the previous
night, and were frolicking in the bright sunshine as if "out-at-recess"
from school.

Mackall, Joslyn, Humphreys and Baker had gotten hold of a ball, and were
having a game of "two-cornered cat," with noise enough for a whole
school play-ground. Russell and Scruggs were running a foot-race, for
the entertainment of a squad of cooks and teamsters, and little Pete
Skidmore was giving an exhibition before the same audience of his
ability to stand on his head, and turn somersaults.

"Little thought they have of the seriousness of war," thought Si, with a
shrug of his shoulders, as he yelled out:

"Come, boys, fall in here."

When the boys had first come under Si's command they regarded him as one
of the greatest men in the army. In their shadowy notions of military
matters they rather thought that he stood next to the great Generals
whose names filled all mouths. These ideas had been toppled into dust by
their arrival in camp, and seeing so many different men order him
around. They felt ashamed of themselves that they had ever mistaken him
for a great man, and put him up on a pedestal. That is the way with
boys. They resent nothing more sharply than the thought of their having
been deceived into honoring somebody or something unworthy of honor.
They can stand anything better than a reflection upon their shrewdness
and judgment.

"Hear Klegg a-calling?" said Joslyn, pausing for an instant, with the
ball in his hand.

"Let him call," said Mackall, indifferently, finishing his run to base.
"He ain't big boss no more. He's only the lowest Sergeant in the
company. Throw the ball, Harry. You must do better'n you've been doing.
We're getting away with you."

"Fall in here, boys, I tell you," said Si so sternly that Pete Skidmore
stopped in his handspring, but seeing the bigger boys making no move to
obey, decided that it would be improper for him to show any signs of
weakness, and he executed his flip-flap.

"Here, you're out, Gid. Gi' me the bat," shouted Harry Joslyn, as he
caught the ball which Mackall had vainly struck at.

Si strode over to the group, snatched the bat from Harry's hand, spanked
him with it, and started for the others of the group.

"Say, you musn't hit that boy," exclaimed Gid, jumping on Si's back. Gid
was as ready to fight for Harry as to fight with him. The others rushed
up, school boy like, to defend their companion against "the man," and
little Pete Skidmore picked up a stone and adjusted it for throwing.

"Why, you little scamps you," gasped Si in amazement. "What'd you mean?
Ain't you goin' to obey my orders?"

"You haint no right to give us orders no more," asserted Humphreys,
flourishing his bat defiantly. "You're only an enlisted man, same as the
rest o' us. They told us so, last night, and that we mustn't let you
impose on us, as you'd bin doin'. Only the Captain and the Colonel
command us. We've bin posted. And if you dare hit any o' us we'll all
jump on you and maul your head offen you."

The rest looked approval of Jim's brave words.

"We're goin' to strike for our altars and our fires. Strike for the
green graves of our sires. God and our native land," declaimed Monty
Scruggs.

The waspish little mutiny was so amusing that Si had to smile in spite
of himself. With a quick, unexpected movement he snatched the bat from
Jim Humphreys' hand, and said good-humoredly:

"Now, boys, you mustn't make fools of yourselves agin'. Stop this
nonsense at once, I tell you. I'm just as much your commandin' officer
as I ever was."

"How can you be a commanding officer, when everybody else bosses you
about?" persisted the argumentative Monty Scruggs. "Everybody that comes
near you orders you around, just the same as you used to us, and you
mind 'em. That ain't no way for a commanding officer. We don't want
anybody bossing us that everybody else bosses."

"Well, that's the way o' the army," Si explained patiently, "and you've
got to git used to it. 'Most everybody bosses somebody else. The
President tells Gen. Grant what he wants done. Gen. Grant orders Gen,
Thomas to do it. Gen. Thomas orders a Major-General. The Major-General
orders a Brigadier-General. The Brigadier-General orders our Colonel.
Our Colonel orders Cap McGillicuddy. Cap McGillicuddy orders the
Orderly-Sarjint, the Orderly-Sarjint orders me, and I command you."

"Why, it's worse'n 'The-House-That-Jack-Built,'" said Monty Scruggs.

"Well, you needn't learn all of it," said Si. "It's enough for you to
know that I command you. That's the A B C of the business, and all you
need know. A man in the army gits into trouble offen by knowin' too
much. You git it well into your craws that I command you, and that
you've got to do just as I say, and I'll do the rest o' the knowin' that
you need.\x97"

"But how're we to know that you're right every time," argued Monty
Scruggs.

"Well," explained the patient Si, "if you've any doubts, go to the
Orderly-Sarjint. If he don't satisfy you, go to the Captain. If you have
doubts about him, carry it to the Colonel. If you're still in doubt,
refer it to the Brigadier-General, then to the Major-General, to Gen.
Thomas, Gen. Grant, and lastly to the President of the United States."

"Great goodness!" they gasped.

"But the less you bother your heads with Captains and Curnels and
Generals the better you'll git along. The feller that's right over
you\x97in arm's length o' you all the time\x97is the feller that you've got to
look out for sharply. I'm him. Now I want you to form in two ranks
quicker'n scat, and 'tend to business. I'm goin' to drill you. Gid
Mackall, take your place there. Harry Joslyn, stand behind him."

The old squabbles as to precedence immediately broke out between Gid and
Harry, which Si impatiently ended by snatching Harry by the collar and
yanking him behind Gid, with the wrathful Harry protesting that he
intended carrying the matter up through the whole military hierarchy,
even to the President of the United States, if necessary. He did not
come into the army to be run over.

"You came into the army to do just as I tell you, and you'll do it.
Silence in the ranks," commanded Si. "Humphreys, stand next to Mackall.
Scruggs, stand behind Humphreys."

"Why do you put one man behind another?" queried Monty Scruggs. "I don't
think that's right.\x97Jim's big head'll be forever in my way, so's I can't
see anything. Why don't you put us out in one line, like a class in
school? Then everybody's got the same show."

"I didn't make the tactics. Git into your places," snapped Si.

"Well, I don't think much of a teacher that can't explain what he's
teaching," mumbled Monty, as he reluctantly obeyed.

"Now, Russell, stand next to Humphreys; Baker, stand behind Russell;
Skidmore, stand next to Russell."

"Goody, I'm in the front rank," giggled little Pete, and Harry Joslyn
looked as if here was another case of favoritism that he would have to
call the President's attention to.

"Now," commanded Si, "put your heels together, turn your toes out, stand
erect, draw your stomachs in\x97"

'draw Your Stomachs In. 73

"Look here, Jim Humphreys," grumbled Monty Scruggs, "when he told you to
draw your stomach in he didn't mean for you to stick your hips out till
you bumped me over into the next Township. I've got to have room to
stand here, as well as you."

"Silence in the ranks," commanded Si. "Draw your stomachs in, put your
little fingers down to the seams of your pantaloons\x97"

"You mean the middle finger, don't you?" queried Monty Scruggs. "That's
more natural way of standing."

"No, I mean the little finger," asserted Si.

"But the middle finger is more natural," persisted Monty. "You can't
stand straight with your little finger at the seam. See here."

"Scruggs, do as I say, without no words," said Si, and then Monty's face
took on an expression of determination to carry the matter to a higher
court.

"Now, keep your faces straight to the front, and at the command 'Right
dress!' turn your eyes, without moving your heads, until you kin see the
buttons on the breast of the second man to the right. 'Right dress!'"

"There's no man on my right for me to look toward. What 'm I to do?"
complained Gid Mackall.

"There, you see what come o' putting him in front," exulted Harry
Joslyn. "Now, if I'd bin\x97"

"Say, I can't see up to Jim Humphreys' big breast without twistin' my
neck nearly off," murmured little Pete Skidmore. "Can't you make him
scrooch a little? Jest see him swell up."

"What's the use o' linin' on a feller that can't stand still a second?"
complained the others.

"Great Scott, what a line," groaned Si, walking along, shoving the boys
back, and twisting them around, to get them straight. "Crooked as a
pumpkin vine in a cornfield. Here, I told you not to turn your heads,
but only your eyes. If you snipes wouldn't gab so much, but listen to
what I say, you'd git along better. Silence in ranks. Now, try it over
again. Faces straight to the front. Eyes cast to the right, until they
catch the buttons on the breast of the second man. Right dress!"

"Great grief," sighed he, looking at the result. "You wriggle about like
so many eels. Might as well try to line up so many kittens. Won't you
straighten Up and keep straight?" Then came a renewal of the noisy
discussion, with mutual blaming of one another.

Si picked up a stick and drew a line in the ground. "Now bring your toes
to that line, and keep 'em there."

"Shall we take that scratch along with us as we march, or will you draw
another one for us as we need it?" Monty Scruggs asked, at which the
other boys laughed, which did not improve Si's temper. It was long, hard
work before he got the restless, talkative young fellows so that they
would form a fairly straight line, and maintain it for a minute or two.

He looked at them, wiped his perspiring brow, and remarked internally:

"Well, I thought them was bright boys, that it'd be no trouble to drill.
I'd ruther break in the stoonidest lot o' hayseeds that ever breathed,
rather than boys that think they know more'n I do. Now I'm goin' to have
the time o' my life learnin' 'em the right face."

He began the explanation of that complicated manuver:

"Now, I want every one o' you to stop talkin', gether up them scatter-
fire brains o' your'n, and pay strict 'tention to every word I say\x97"

"Harry Joslyn," broke in Gid, "if you tramp on my heels just one more
time, I'll knock your head off. I've told you often enough."

"Well, you just keep off en my toes with them rockgrinders o' your'n,"
Harry retorted.

"Silence in ranks," commanded Si. "Each rank will count twos."

"What are twos? Where are they, and how many of 'em do you want us to
count?" asked Monty Scruggs, at which the other boys snickered. They
were getting very tired of the drill, and in the humor to nag and balk
the drillmaster. Si lost a trifle of his temper, and said:

"You're too all-fired smart with your tongue, Scruggs. If you were only
half as smart learnin' your business\x97"

"Sergeant," said one of the Lieutenants who happened to be passing,
"keep your temper. You'll get along better. Don't squabble with your
men."

This made the boys much worse.

"What I mean by countin' twos," explained Si, "is that the man on the
right in each rank shall count one, the next one, two; the next one, one
and so on. Count twos!"

They made such an exasperating muddle of it, that Si almost had a fit.
The cooks, teamsters and other hangers-on saw the trouble and came
flocking around with all manner of jesting remarks and laughter, which
strained Si's temper to the utmost, and encouraged the boys in their
perversity. Si curbed himself down, and laboriously exemplified the
manner of counting until the boys had no excuse for not understanding
it.

"Now, said he, at the command 'Right face,' the No. 1 man in the front
rank faces to the right and stand fast\x97"

"What do the rest of us do?" they chorused.

"The rest o' you chase yourselves around him," said a humorist among the
cooks, while the others laughed uproariously.

"Shut up, you pot-wrastlers," said Si wrathfully. "If I hear another
word from you, I'll light into you with a club. Now you brats\x97"

"Sergeant," admonished the Lieutenant, "you mustn't use such language to
your men."

This made Si angrier, and the boys more cantankerous. Si controlled
himself to go on with his explanations in a calm tone:

"No 1 in the front rank will face to the right, and stand fast, and take
a side step to the right. Each No. 2 will face to the right, and take on
oblique side step to the right to place himself on the right hand of his
No. 1 man."

"Say that all again, Sergeant," asked Monty Scruggs.

Si patiently repeated the explanation.

"Now sing it to the tune of 'When this Cruel War is Over,' called out
the cook-humorist.

"Right face," commanded Si.

A roar went up from the camp-follower audience at the hopeless tangle
which ensued. No two of the boys seemed to have done the same thing.
Several had turned to the left, and all were sprinting around in various
ways in a more or less genuine pretense of executing the order.
Meanwhile the news that Si's squad of recruits were having fun with him
spread through the camp, and a crowd gathered to watch the performance
and give their jeering advice in that characteristic soldierly way when
they see a comrade wrestling with a perplexing job.

"Git a bushel basket, and gather 'em up in it."

"Tie straw around their left feet, and hay around their right ones, so's
they'll know 'em."

"Back 'em up agin' a rail fence and git 'em into line;" were among the
freely offered suggestions. Si was sweating all over, and so angry that
he had to stolidly bite his words off, one at a time, to keep from
showing his temper. To add to his troubles, he saw the Colonel, of whom
he stood in proper awe, become interested in the crowd and the shouting,
and stroll down from his tent to see what the excitement was.

"As you were," Si commanded, steadying his voice with a great effort.
"Every one of you git back as I placed you. Right dress!"

To his wonderment they formed as good a line as veterans could have
done. They heard a whisper that the Colonel was coming, and it sobered
them.

"Right face!" commanded Si.

They all faced to the right and stepped into their places without an
error.

"Front!" commanded Si, and they returned to two ranks.

"Ah, Sergeant," said the Colonel, kindly, as he made his way through the
respectfully opened, saluting crowd. "Giving your men their first drill,
are you? Well, you are getting along remarkably well for recruits. I saw
that last movement, and it was very well done, indeed. You've got some
very nice-looking boys there, and I think they'll be a credit to the
regiment."

"Saved by the skin o' my teeth," gasped Si to himself, as the Colonel
strolled on. "Now, you young roosters, I see that you kin do it whenever
you want to, and you've got to want to after this. A boy that don't want
to I'll take down to the branch there, and hold his head under water
till he does want to. I'm goin' to stay with you until you learn the
drill dead letter perfect. You can't git rid of me. You'll save trouble
by rememberin' that. Now we'll go back for supper. Right
face\x97forward\x97file left\x97March!"



CHAPTER VII. SHORTY'S HEART TURNS TOWARD MARIA AND HE FINALLY GETS A
LETTER FROM HER.

AFTER the flush of excitement of returning to his old regiment and
meeting his comrades\x97after the process of readjusting himself to the
changed relations made by death, wounds, discharges, resignations and
promotions\x97after the days had brought a settling back into the old
routine of camp-life, there developed in Shorty's heart growing
homesickness for Maria Klegg.

At least that was what it seemed to him. He did not exactly know what
homesickness was from personal experience, as he had never really had a
home. But he had seen thousands of boys more or less affected by that
obscure but stubborn and dangerous malady, and had noted their symptoms,
which strongly resembled his own.

Somehow, the sun only shone with real brightness and warmth over the
pleasant homes and fertile fields of Posey County, Ind. Somehow, women
had a fairness and sweetness there denied to their sex elsewhere, and
somehow the flower of them all was a buxom maiden of 20 dwelling under
the roof of Deacon Klegg.

Shorty appreciated very properly the dignity and responsibilities of his
two stripes. He was going to be the model Corporal of the regiment, and
give all the rest a copy which they could follow to advantage. Of all
the Corporals he had ever known, Si Klegg had come nearest his ideas as
to what a Corporal should be, but even Si had his limitations. He would
show him some improvements. So shorty bent his mind upon the performance
of everything pertaining to the Corporalcy with promptness and zeal. He
even set to studying the Regulations and Tactics\x97at least those
paragraphs relating to Corporals and their duties\x97where heretofore he
had despised "book-soldiering," and relied on quick observation and
"horse sense" to teach him all that was worth knowing. But his stay in
the Deacon's home showed him that they esteemed "book-knowledge" even in
common things as of much value, and he began to have a new respect for
that source of instruction.

Even through the pressure of official duties and responsibilities there
would steal, like the wafting of a sweet song to the ears of the reapers
in a hot field, thoughts of the coolness, the beauty and the peace of
that quiet home on the Wabash, with one flower-faced girl, with white,
soft arms, going about her daily tasks, singing with such blithe
cheeriness that even the birds stopped to listen to a sweeter note than
theirs. Some subtle fragrance from her seemed to be with him wherever he
was, and whatever he might be doing. When, as the tallest Corporal in
Co. Q, he stood on the right of the company, on drill and dress parade,
and made the others "dress" on him, he wished that Maria Klegg could
only see how straight the line was, and how soldierly the boys looked.
When the Colonel personally selected him to command the squad which was
to escort the Paymaster through a dangerous part of the country, he
would have given much had Maria known of the trust reposed in him. And
when, as Corporal of the Guard, he suppressed in his usual summary way a
noisy row among the teamsters and cooks, he was very glad that Maria did
not hear the remarks that a Corporal always thinks necessary to make on
such occasions. Shorty did not swear with the fluent ease of before his
visit to the Klegg homestead, but a little excitement gave the old
looseness to his tongue. And when he sat around the guard-fire, he would
refuse to be drawn into any "little games," but turn his back upon the
chattering crowd, and furtively draw from his breast-pocket the remnant
of Maria's dress, and feel it, and muse over it, until aroused by the
call:

"Corporal of the Guard, Post No. 14. I want a drink o' water."

Shorty began to watch for Si's mail a good deal more anxiously than that
worthy did. He managed to go by the Chaplain's tent whenever duty took
him in that part of the camp, and sometimes when it did not, and inquire
if there was any mail there for Si. One day he was rewarded by the
Chaplain handing him two letters. His heart beat a little quicker by
seeing that they were both postmarked Bean Blossom Creek. The smaller\x97a
white envelope, superscribed in Annabel's cramped little hand\x97he thrust
indifferently into his pocket, and the larger\x97a fat, yellow envelope,
covered with the good Deacon's massive crow-tracks, and securely
fastened by a dab of sealing wax, pressed down with a cent\x97he studied
with tender interest. It had come directly from her home\x97from her
father. It probably told something about her.

It seemed as if there was something of the perfume of her presence about
it. Possibly she had carried it to the station and mailed it. He turned
it over gently, studied every detail, and fixed his eyes upon it, as if
he would make them pierce the thick, strong paper and devour the
contents. Then it occurred to him that the better and quicker way to get
at the inside would be to deliver the letters to Si. So he hunted up his
partner, whom he found about to take his squad out for a turn at wagon
guarding.

Si looked pleased as he recognized his father's letter, but his face
flushed to the roots of his sandy hair at the sight of Annabel's. He put
the latter carefully in his pocket. It was too sweet and sacred a thing
to be opened and read under the gaze of any one else's eyes. He broke
open his father's and as his eyes traveled slowly down the large
foolscap pages, covered with the Deacon's full-grown characters, for the
Deacon made his letters as he liked his stock\x97big and full\x97he said:

"They're all well at home, but mother's had a tech of her old rheumatiz.
Pap's sold his wheat at a dollar and four bits. Peaches about half
killed. Had good luck with his lambs. Wheat's lookin' unusually well.
Beck Spangler's married Josh Wilson, whose wife died last Fall, leavin'
him two little children. Brindle cow's come in fresh, with a nice calf,
quarter Jersey. Copperhead's gittin' sassy agin. Holdin' night meetin's
and wearin' butternut badges, and talkin' about resistin' draft. Hogs
wintered well, and looks as if Pap'd have a nice drove to sell in the
Fall. Pap'll put in 'bout 90 acres o' corn, and'll have to hustle his
plowin' ez soon's the ground's fit. Little Sammy Woggles had a fight
with Beecham's boy, who's six months older, and licked him. Sammy likes
school better now than he did. Pap's bought Abraham Lincoln a new suit
o' store clothes and the girls have made him some white shirts. He goes
to church every Sunday now, and carries a cane. Pap sends his regards to
you, Shorty, and mother and the girls want to be kindly remembered.
There, take the letter, Shorty, and read it for yourself. I've got to
skip out with my squad."

Shorty took the letter with eagerness, and retired to a nook to read it
all over carefully, and see if he could not mayhap glean out of it
something more relating to Her. But the main satisfaction was in reading
again and again "Mother and the girls want to be kindly remembered to
Shorty."

"Not uncomfortably warm, and purty general, like the gal who promised to
be a sister to the hull rijimint," mused Shorty, as he refolded the
letter and replaced it in the envelope. "But, then, it is better to be
kindly remembered by sich people as them than to be slobbered over by
anybody else in the world. Wisht I knowed jest how much o' the kind
remembrance was Maria's, and if it differed in any way from her mother's
and sister's?"

The next evening the Orderly-Sergeant handed Shorty a badly-thumb-marked
and blotted yellow envelope, on which was scrawled in a very schoolish
hand:

"To Mister Corpril Elliott, "Co. Q, Two Hundred Injianny Volintears,

"Chattynoogy, 10-S-E."

Opening it he read:

Mister Shortee

U ar a Frawd!!! That's what U ar!!!

Whairz mi Gunn??????

U ar a long-shanked, brick-topt Frawd & a promisbraker!!!

Whairz mi Gunn???

U hav now bin away a hole month, & I haint seen no Gunn!

Awl the boiz is makin fun ov Me, bekaws I blowed around bout the Gunn I
waz going 2 git, & I didn't git none.

Whairz mi Gunn???

I likked Ans. Beechum till he hollered nuff, for teezin Me bout mi Gunn.
That's quiled the other boiz.

But I want mi Gunn!

I have just lots & Gobs 2 tell U, bout what Maria's bin sayin bout yore
saffron head, but I shant write a word till I git mi Gunn!

I wont tell U how the girls is pleggin her bout her Big Sunflower till I
git mi Gunn!

If U doant send mi Gunn rite off He tel Maria everything I no.

I tel U now. He spile yore fun

Onless at once U send mi Gunn.

Yores til deth,

SAMUEL WOGGLES.

The reception of this perturbed Shorty to his depths. He had not
forgotten his promise to Sammy\x97merely postponed its execution under the
pressure of other engrossments. He reproached himself for not
remembering how eagerly the boy had been looking forward to a possession
which would make him the envy of the other boys\x97really hated by them for
his towering and undeserved fortune.

"And Maria and the girls is talkin' about me," he communed with himself.
"I knowed that my left ear hadn't bin burnin' ever since we crossed the
Ohio River for nothin'. I thought it was because it'd got so tender
layin' on pillers that the blankets chafed it. Now I understand it. And
I can't hear nothin' of what they've bin sayin' till I git that gun to
Sammy. I'll start it to him this day, if it takes a leg. I'd intended to
go over to the camp o' the Maumee Muskrats today, on a missionary, tower
with them new tricks I brung back with me, but I'll put in the time
gittin' Sammy's gun and shippin' it to him. Wonder where I kin pick up a
rebel musket and trimmins'?" Shorty did not find this so easy as he had
anticipated. Generally, rebel guns had been a drug in the market. They
could be found lying around camp almost anywhere, and were used for any
purpose to which they could be applied\x97poles to hang kettles on over the
fire, tent-sticks, revetments to hold the dirt back, or any other use.
But under the rigid system now prevailing in Sherman's camps everything
had to be accounted for, and every gun sufficiently serviceable to be
worth sending to Sammy had been gathered up and stored away in a large
shed. Shorty went down there and scrutinized the armory. There were
plenty of guns in there, any one of which would make Sammy's heart leap
for joy, and render him the object of the burning envy of all the boys
for miles around. But there were guards pacing around, and they looked
watchful. Still, if the night were dark he might slip in and steal one.
But somehow since he had known Maria there had risen in his mind a
repugnance to that way of procuring things. It was not in accordance
with Klegg ideas. He sat down and pondered on other methods. He went
over and talked to the Sergeant in charge, an old acquaintance, but the
Sergeant was obdurate.

"No, sir. Can't let one of 'em go on no account," said the Sergeant
firmly. "My Captain's in charge of 'em, and he's put me in charge. He
knows he can trust me, and I know that he can. He don't know how many
guns and bayonets and cartridge-boxes there are, but I do, for I counted
them first thing when I come on. I don't propose that he shall have to
have any shortage charged against him when he comes to settle his
accounts. I don't know whether they've got an account of the things at
Headquarters, but they're likely to have, and I'm not taking any risks.
I'm looking out for my Captain."

"But suppose I pay you the value of the blamed old blunderbuss," said
Shorty, as a desperate resort, for it was the first time that he had
ever thought of a rebel gun having a money value.

"I wouldn't take it," replied the Sergeant. "First place, I haint no
idea what they're worth. Next place, if I had, I wouldn't take it, for I
don't want any shortage in Cap's accounts. Thirdly, if I took the money
I'd like as not set into a game o' poker tonight and lose it, and then
where'd I be, and where'd Cap be? I've been having monstrous hard luck
at poker lately."

"That's because you ain't up to the latest kinks," said Shorty,
hopefully. "I've been back to the rear\x97just come from Jeffersonville\x97and
I've got on to a lot of new dodges. I'll show 'em all to you for one o'
them guns."

The waver in the Sergeant's face showed the temptation was a trying one,
but he answered firmly:

"No; I won't do it."

"I'll put up a $10 bill agin one o' the guns, play you two out o' three
for it, learn you the tricks, and give you back the money if I win,"
said Shorty desperately.

Again the Sergeant's face showed great irresolution, but again his
fidelity triumphed, and he answered firmly, "No I won't." Then he
softened his refusal by saying:

"Come, Shorty, walk over a little way with me. I know where we can get
something good."

After they had shared a tincupful of applejack that a teamster supplied
them the Sergeant's heart thawed out a little.

"I tell you. Shorty, there's a gun in there that'd just tickle your boy
to death. It's an Enfield, new one, and has a Yankee bullet sticking in
the butt. Must've knocked the Johnny a double somersault when it struck.
I've been thinkin' sending it home myself. But I'll let you have it, and
I'll tell you how you can get it. See that camp over there? Well, that's
a regiment being organized out o' Tennessee refugees. They and their
officers are the carelessest lot of galoots that ever lived. Their
Quartermaster stores and their Commissary stores, and everything they
have is allowed to lie around loose, just wherever they get the notion
to drop them. I've had my eye on 'em for several days, and've helped
several of my friends to straighten up their company accounts, and
replace things that they'd lost. You just waltz over there, careless
like, as if you belonged to the regiment, pick up a gun and traps, put
'em on, and sail back here, and I'll turn your things in, and give you
that gun with the bullet in the stock in exchange."

Shorty lost no time in acting on the advice. That afternoon the express
from Chattanooga carried a gun to Sammy Woggles, the contemplation of
which deprived that youth of sleep the night after he received it, and
won him the cordial hatred of every boy in his neighborhood for his
overweening pride.

But after the gun was gone, and after Shorty had written a laborious
letter, informing Sammy of the shipment of the gun and its history,
which letter inclosed a crisp greenback, and was almost as urgent in
injunctions to Sammy to write as Sammy had been about his piece of
ordnance, Shorty sat down in sadness of heart. He was famishing for
information from Maria, and at the lowest calculation he could not hope
for a letter from Sammy for two weeks.

"It'll take at least a week for that little rat to git over his fever
about that gun," he mused, "until he'll be able to set up and think
about anything else. Then it'll take him at least another week to build
a letter. Great Jehosephat, how'm I goin' to stand it till then?
Where'll I be two weeks from now? What kin I do? I a'most wish that
something'd happen to Si that'd give me an excuse for writin'."

He racked his fertile brain with expedients and devices for getting up
communication, but for once he had to reject them all. There was a halo
of unapproachableness about Maria Klegg that paralyzed him.

He awoke the next morning with the same anxiety gnawing at his heart,
and it haunted him so that he went through the morning's routine
mechanically. When he came back from taking a squad up to Headquarters
to report for fatigue duty, the Orderly-Sergeant called out:

"Here's a letter for you, Corporal Elliott." Shorty took the small white
envelope from the Orderly's hand, and looked at it curiously. Who could
it be from? It resembled somewhat the letters that once came from Bad
Ax, Wis., but then again it was very different. He studied the
handwriting, which was entirely strange to him. Then he was electrified
by seeing that the postmark seemed to be something the same as on Si's
letters, but was blurred. He gave a little gasp, and said:

"Orderly, I'd like to git off a little while today." "Why, Shorty,"
remonstrated the busy Sergeant, "you were off yesterday. But go. I'll
try to get along without you. Don't stay long."

A Letter from Maria. 81

Shorty would not trust himself to more than look at the outside, until
he had gained a safe screen behind a clump of bushes. Then he took out
his knife, carefully slit the envelope, and read:

Dear Mr. Elliot\x97

I take my pen in hand to inform you that we are all in good health and
hope you are enjoyin' the same blessing fur which we should all be
thankful to God. I am over on a visit to Prairie Hen and Mrs. Skidmore a
widow woman called to see me today In the course of conversation she
said her little boy Peter had run off and shed hurd hed joined the 200th
Indiana Volunteer Infantry. She heard that we had folks in that regiment
and so had come over to see me to see if I knowed anybody that would
give her any news about her boy so as she could ask them to look out for
him. I told her I knowed a gentleman in the 200th Indiana who would look
out for Peter and be a second father to him and as soon as she had went
I started this epistle. I thot id answer my letters because its all he
can do to write answer my letter because its all he can do to write to
mother and Annabel and dont write to mother haf often enuf besides id
like to hear from you myself. Sincerely Yore Friend

Maria Klegg.

"M-a-r-i-a-r K-l-e-g-g," gasped Shorty, spelling over the letters, one
at a time, to make sure that his eyes were not making a fool of him.
"And she'd like to hear from me."

And he took off his hat, and fanned his burning face.



CHAPTER VIII. SHORTY WRITES A LETTER TO MARIA KLEGG AND ENTERS UPON HIS
PARENTAL RELATIONS TO LITTLE PETE SKIDMORE.

THE self-sufficient, self-reliant Shorty had never before had anything
to so completely daze him. "Ackchelly a letter from Maria Klegg. Writ of
her own free will and accord. And she wants to hear from me," he
murmured, reading the letter over and over again, and scanning the
envelope as if by intensity of gaze he would wring more from the mute
white paper. The thought was overpowering that it had come directly from
her soft hand; that she had written his name upon it; that her lips had
touched the stamp upon it. He tenderly folded up the letter and replaced
it in the envelope. His thoughts were too tumultuous for him to sit
still. He would walk and calm himself. He wrapped the piece of Maria's
dress around the letter, rose and started off. He had gone but a few
steps when it seemed to him that he had not caught the full meaning of
some of the words in the letter. He sought a secluded place where he
could sit down, unseen by any eyes, and read the letter all over again
several times. Then came the disturbing thought of how he was to care
for and protect the precious missive? He could not bear to part with it
for a single minute, and yet he did not want to carry the sacred thing
around exposed to the dirt and moil of daily camp-life and the danger of
loss. He thought long and earnestly, and at last went down to a large
sutler's store, and purchased the finest morocco wallet from his stock.
Even this did not seem a sufficiently rich casket for such a gem, and he
bought a large red silk bandana, in which he carefully wrapped letter,
dress fragment and wallet, and put them in the pocket of his flannel
shirt, next his breast. Next came the momentous duty of writing an
answer to the letter. Yesterday he was burning with a desire to make an
opportunity to write. Now the opportunity was at hand, the object of his
desires had actually asked him to write her, and the completeness of the
opportunity unnerved him.

"The first thing I have got to do," said he, "is to git some paper and
envelopes and ink. I don't s'pose they've got anything here fit for a
gentleman to write to a lady with." He turned over the sutler's stock of
stationery disdainfully, and finally secured a full quire of heavy,
gilt-edged paper, and a package of envelopes, on which was depicted a
red-and-blue soldier, with a flag in one hand and a gun in the other,
charging bayonets through a storm of bursting shells.

"It's true I ain't one o' the color-guard yit," mused Shorty, studying
the picture, "but the Colonel sorter hinted that I might be, if Cap
McGillicuddy could spare me from Co. Q, which ain't at all likely. Now,
Mister, le'me see some pens."

"Here's some\x97Gillott's\x97best quality," said the sutler's clerk.

"Naw," said Shorty contemptuously. "Don't want no common steel pens.
Goin' to write to a lady. Git me your best gold ones."

Shorty made quite a pretense of trying, as he had seen penmen do, the
temper of the pens upon his thumb-nail, but chose the largest and
highest priced one, in an elaborate silver holder.

"I'm very partickler 'bout my pens," said he to the clerk. "I must have
'em to just suit my hand. Some folks's very keerless about what they
write with, but I wasn't brung up that way."

"If you'd ask my advice," said the clerk, "I'd recommend this thing as
the best for you to use. It'd suit fine Italian hand better'n any pen
ever made."

And he held up a marking-pot and brush.

"Young man," said Shorty, solemnly, as he paid for his purchases, "the
condition o' your health requires you not to try to be funny. It's one
o' the dangerousest things in the army. You're exposed to a great many
complaints down here, but nothin' 'll send you to the hospital as
suddenly as bein' funny."

The next thing was a studio where he could conduct his literary task
without interruption, and Shorty finally found a rock surrounded by
bushes, where he could sit and commune with his thoughts. He got the
cover of a cracker-box, to place on his knees and serve for a desk, laid
his stationery down beside him, re-read Maria's letter several times,
spoiled several sheets of paper in trying to get his fingers limber
enough for chirography, and then, begun the hardest, most anxious
afternoon's work he had ever done, in writing the following letter:

"Camp ov the 2 Hunderdth Injianny

"Voluntear Infantry,

"Mishun Rij, nere Chattynoogy, April the 10, 1864.

"Miss Maria Klegg,

"Respected Frend.

(This part of the letter had cost Shorty nearly an hour of anxious
thought. He had at first written "Dere Miss Maria," and then recoiled,
shuddered and blushed at the thought of the affectionate familiarity
implied. Then he had scrawled, one after another, the whole gamut of
beginnings, before he decided upon addressing her, as was her right, as
formally as he would the wife of the President.)

"Yore letter was welcomer to me than the visit ov the Pamaster, after
six months exclipse ov hiz cheerful mug."

("I think 'mug' is the word they use for face in good society," mused
Shorty, with the end of the penholder in his mouth. "At least I heard
the Kurnel use it one day. She can't expect no man to be much gladder of
anything than the comin' o' the Paymaster, and that orter please her.")

"Thankee for yore kind inkwiries az to mi helth? Ime glad to say that
Ime all rite, and sound in lung, body and runnin' gear, and\x97"

(Shorty was on the point of adding "Hope that you are enjoying the same
blessing," when a shiver passed through him that it might be improper to
allude to a young lady's locomotory apparatus. After deep meditation, he
took safety's side and added):

"So's Si. I sinserely hoap that you are injoyin' the blessin's ov helth,
and the konsolashuns ov religion."

("I'm not certain about that last," thought Shorty, "but I heard a
preacher say it once, and it ought to be all right to write to a young
lady.")

"We are still layin' in camp, but expectin' every day orders to move out
for a little soshable with Mister Joe Johnston, whose roostin over on
Pigeon Mountain. When we git at him, there won't be no pigeon about it,
but a game ov fox-and-geese with us for the foxes.

("There," mused Shorty, complacently; "that'll amuse her. Girls like a
little fun throwed into letters, when it's entirely respectful.)

"Little Pete Skidmore is in the company, all rite. He is wun ov the
nicest boys that ever lived, but he needs half-killin' nerely every day.
All real nice boys do. Woodent give much for them if they diddent. Tel
his mother He look out for him, and fetch him up in the way he shood go,
if I haf to break every bone in his body. She needent worry. I no awl
about boys. Thair like colts\x97need to be well-broke before thair enny
akount."

("Now," commented Shorty, as he read what he had written, "that'll make
Maria and his mother feel easy in their minds. They'll think they're in
great luck to git a man who'll be a second father to Pete, and not risk
spilin the child by sparin the rod.")

("Great Jehosephat, what work writing to a young lady is. I'd much
ruther build breastworks or make roads. Now, if it was some ordinary
woman, I wouldn't have to be careful about my spelin' and gramer, but
with sich a lady as Maria Klegg\x97great Cesar's ghost! a man must do the
very best that's in him, and then that ain't half enough. But I must
hurry and finish this letter this afternoon. I can't git another day off
to work at it.")

"Respected Miss Maria, what a fine writer you are. Yore handwritin' is
the most beautiful I ever seen. Jeb Smith, our company clerk, thinks
that he can sFlink ink to beat old Spencerian System hisself, but he
ain't once with you. Ide ruther see one line ov your beautiful ritin'
than all that he ever writ."

("That's so," said Shorty, after judicially scanning the sentence. "Jeb
kin do some awful fancy kurlys, and draw a bird without takin' his pen
from the paper, but he never writ my name a thousandth part as purty as
Maria kin.")

"And how purty you spel. Ime something ov a speler myself, and can nock
out most ov the boys in the company on Webster's Primary, but I aint to
be menshuned in the saim day with you.

"With best respecks to your family, and hoapin soon to here from you, I
am very respeckfully, your friend,

W. L. Elliot.

Corpril, Company Q, 2 Hundsrdth Injiamiy Volintear Infantry."

By the time he had his letter finished, and was wiping the sweat of
intense labor from his brow, he heard the bugle sounding the first call
for dress parade. "I must go and begin my fatherly dooties to little
Pete Skidmore," he said, carefully sealing his letter and sticking a
stamp on it, to mail at the Chaplain's tent as he went by. "It's goin'
to be extry fatigue to be daddy to a little cuss as lively as a
schoolhouse flea, and Corpril of Co. Q, at the same time, but I'm going
to do it, if it breaks a leg."

He was passing a clump of barberry bushes when he overheard Pete
Skidmore's voice inside:

"I'll bet $10 I kin pick it out every time. I'll bet $25 I kin pick it
out this time. Don't tech the cards."

"I don't want to lose no more money on baby bets," replied a tantalizing
voice. "I'll make it $40 or nothin'. Now, youngster, if y're a man\x97"

Shorty softly parted the bushes and looked in. Two of the well-known
sharpers who hung around the camps had enticed little Pete in there, and
to a game of three-card monte. They had inflamed his boyish conceit by
allowing him to pick out two cards in succession, and with small bets.

"I hain't got but $40 left o' my bounty and first month's pay," said
little Pete irresolutely, "and I wanted to send $35 of it home to
mother, but I'll\x97"

"You'll do nothin' o' the kind," shouted Shorty, bursting through the
bushes. "You measly whelps, hain't you a grain o' manhood left? Ain't
you ashamed to swindle a green little kid out o' the money that he wants
to send to his widowed mother?"

"Go off and 'tend to your own business, if you know what's good for
you," said the larger of the men threateningly. "Keep your spoon out o'
other folks' soup. This young man knows what he's about. He kin take
care o' himself. He ain't no chicken. You ain't his guardeen."

"No he ain't," said Pete Skidmore, whose vanity was touched as well as
his cupidity aroused. "Mind your own business, Mister Elliott. You're
only a Corpril anyway. You hain't nothin' to do with me outside the
company. I kin take care o' myself. I've beat these men twice, and kin
do it again."

"Clear out, now, if you don't want to git hurt," said the larger man,'
moving his hand toward his hip.

Shorty's response was to kick over the board on which the cards were
lying, and knock the man sprawling with a back-handed blow. He made a
long pass at the other man, who avoided it, and ran away. Shorty took
Pete by the collar and drew him out of the bushes, in spite of that
youngster's kicks and protestations.

He halted there, pulled out his pocket-knife, and judicially selected a
hickory limb, which he cut and carefully pruned.

"What're you goin' to do?" asked Pete apprehensively.

"I'm goin' to give you a lesson on the evils of gamblin', Pete,
especially when you don't know how."

"But I did know how," persisted Pete. "I beat them fellers twice, and
could beat them every time. I could see quicker'n they could move their
hands."

"You little fool, you knowed about as much about them cards as they know
of ice-water in the place where Jeff Davis is goin'. Pete, I'm goin' to
be a second father to you."

"Dod dum you, who asked you to be a daddy to me? I've had one already.
When I want another, I'll pick one out to suit myself," and Pete looked
around for a stone or a club with which to defend himself.

"Pete," said Shorty solemnly as he finished trimming the switch, and
replaced the knife in his pocket, "nobody's allowed to pick out his own
daddy in this world. He just gits him. It's one o' the mysterious ways
o' Providence. You've got me through one o' them mysterious ways o'
Providence, and you can't git shet o' me. I'm goin' to lick you still
harder for swearin' before your father, and sayin' disrespeckful words
to him. And I'm goin' to lick you till you promise never to tech another
card until I learn you you how to play, which'll be never. Come here, my
son."

The yells that soon rose from that thicket would have indicated that
either a boy was being skinned alive or was having his face washed by
his mother.



CHAPTER IX. SI TAKES HIS BOYS FOR A LITTLE MARCH INTO THE COUNTRY.

"SI," said the Orderly-Sergeant, "here's a chance to give them pin-
feather roosters o' yours a little taste of active service, that'll be
good seasoning for 'em, and help develop their hackles and spurs."

"Good idee. What is it?" responded Si with alacrity.

"An order's come down from Headquarters to detail a Sergeant and eight
men from the company to go out about eight or 10 miles in the country,
and take a turn guarding a little mill they're running out there,
grinding meal. There's a gang of bushwhackers around there, that
occasionally pester the men at work and they've tried once to burn the
mill. I don't think you'll have much trouble, but you've got to keep
your eye peeled, and not let any of your boys go to sleep on post."

"I'll look out for that."

"I know you will. You'll take Shorty along, and your seven kids,
which'll make up the number. You'll draw three days' rations, at the end
of which time you'll be relieved."

"Now, boys," said Si, returning to his squad, "we won't drill today, but
are going out on some real soldierin'. The Kurnel has given us a very
important detail."

The boys swelled up visibly at the news.

"I want you to all act like soldiers, now," continued Si, "and be a
credit to the company and the rijiment. We're goin' to be all by
ourselves, and everybody's eyes 'll be on us."

"Yes," echoed Shorty, "we'll be the only part o' the rijiment at the
front, and we want to git a good stiff brace on ourselves, because if we
don't some o' these other rijiments may git the grand laugh on us."

Shorty's tone was that this was a calamity to which death was
preferable, and the boys were correspondingly impressed. They were
rapidly learning the lesson that the regiment and its reputation were
the most important things in the whole world.

"Come along, and le's draw our rations," said Si. "And you boys want to
keep in mind that this's all you'll git for three days, and govern
yourselves accordingly. The 'Leventh Commandment is to take all that you
kin git, and take mighty good care of it after you git it\x97"

"For sich is the Kingdom of Heaven," interjected Shorty, imitating the
Chaplain's tone.

"No," said Si, who was irritated by his partner's irreverence: "but it's
the way a good soldier does. His first dooty's to take care o' his grub,
because that's takin' care o' himself, and keepin' himself in good shape
to do the dooty the Government expects o' him. 'Tain't servin' the
Government right for him to be careless about himself. Now here's 27
rations o' bread, meat, coffee, sugar, salt and beans\x97three apiece for
each of us. Harry Joslyn, you and Gid Mack divide them up into nine
equal piles."

Si and Shorty turned to give directions about packing up the shelter-
tents and blankets for carrying.

"Now, Gid Mackall," said Harry, "play fair, if you ever did in your
life. I won't have none o' your shenanniging."

"Don't talk to me about shenanniging, you little imp," responded Gid
cordially. "You can't do a straight thing if you try, and you never try.
You never fisted-up with me on a ball-bat that you didn't slip your hand
so's to come out ahead."

"Now, there's three loaves o' bread for the Sargint," said Harry, laying
them down on a newspaper. "There's three for the Corpril; there's three
for me; there's three for you."

"Here, what're you givin' me that broken loaf for?" demanded Gid,
stopping in his distribution of meat. "Give that to Pete Skidmore. He's
the littlest."

"Ain't goin' to do nothin' o' the kind," responded Harry. "You've got to
take things as they come. That loaf fell to you, and you've got to keep
it."

"If you don't take that nubbin loaf away and put a full one in its
place, not a speck o' lean meat 'll you get\x97nothin' but fat six inches
thick."

"You'll cut that meat straight across, and give me my right share o'
lean, you puddin'-headed, sandhill crane," shouted Harry.

"Who're you a-calling names, you bow-legged little shrimp?" shouted Gid,
slapping Harry across the face with a piece of fat pork.

An angry mix-up, school boy rules, followed, to the great detriment of
the rations. Si and Shorty rushed up, separated the combatants, and
administered shakes, cuffs, and sharp reprimands.

"Now, you quarrelsome little whelps," said Si, after quiet had been
restored, "you've got to take them rations that you've spiled for
yourselves. You shan't have no other. Put that bread and that meat
you've kicked around into your own haversacks. Then go back there and
roll up your blankets\x97same as the other boys. Alf Russell, you and Jim
Humphreys come here and divide the rest o' these rations into seven
parts, if you kin do it without fightin'."

The division of the rations proceeded, with some jars between Russell
and Humphreys over the apportionment of fat and lean meat, and angry
protests from little Pete Skidmore because they made his share smaller
than anybody else's.

"Yit," said he, "I've got to march just as far as any of you, carry just
as big a gun, and do just as much shootin'."

"You're wrong," said the medical-minded Alf Russell. "You ought to have
less than the others, because you're smaller. The littler and younger
the person the smaller the dose, always."

"No," acceded the farmer Jim Humphreys. "Tain't natural, nor right. You
don't give a colt as much feed as you do a grown horse. Anybody knows
that."

"Pete's plea is sound," contraverted the legal-minded Monty Scruggs.
"All men are equal before the law, though they mayn't be a foot high.
Rations are a matter of law, and the law's no respecter of persons."

"Rations is intended," persisted Alf, "to give a man what he needs to
eat\x97nothing more, nothing less. Pete don't need as much as a man; why
give it to him? There'd be just as much sense in giving him the clothes
for a six-footer."

"All o' you are always imposin' on me 'cause I'm little," whimpered
Pete. "And that stuck-up Alf Russell's the worst of all. Just because
he's goin' to be a doctor, and leads in singin' at church, he thinks he
knows more'n the man what writ the arithmetic, and he's down on me
because I won't take all he says for law and gospel, in spite of his
airs. Jim Humphreys is down on me, because I writ home that I'd shot a
man back there at the burnt bridge, and Jim got skeered at a coon-
huntin' nigger."

"Never mind, Pete," said Monty consolingly, "none o' them shall impose
on you while I'm around. Now, Alf, you and Jim give Pete just as much as
the rest, or I'll make you."

"Who'll you make, you brindle steer?" said Alf, laying down his bread
and bristling up.

"Stand back, Alf; he meant me," said Jim, disposing his meat, and
approaching Monty with doubled fists. "Now, Mister Scruggs, le's see you
do some makin', since you're so brash."

"Here, stop that, you little scamps," shouted Si, whose attention had
been so far devoted to quieting Harry and Gid, and showing them how to
prepare their traps for marching. "Great Scott, can't you git along
without fightin'? I'm goin' to take you where you'll git real fightin'
enough to satisfy you.

"Go ahead, there, and divide them rations, as I ordered you, and be
quick about it, for we must hurry off."

The mention of real fighting immediately sobered up the boys, and made
them forget their squabbles. They hurried about their work with
quickened zeal.

"Now," said Si, "pack your rations carefully in your haversacks, just as
you see me and Corpril Elliott doin'. First, keep your sugar, coffee and
salt separate. Put 'em in little tin boxes, like these, and see that the
lids are on tight. Hurry up, now. Shorty, you'd better look over the
boxes, and go up and draw as many cartridges as you think we'll need."

The mention of need for cartridges was an electric impulse which set the
boys keenly alive. They bundled their rations into their haversacks, and
flung their blanket rolls over their shoulders, and were standing in a
state of palpitating expectancy, when Shorty came back with his hands
full of cartridges, which he proceeded to distribute.

"Take arms," commanded Si. "Forward!\x97March!"

Si and Shorty started off with their long, easy campaign stride, which,
in some incomprehensible way that the veteran only learns by practice,
brought their feet down every time in exactly the right place, avoiding
all stumbling-blocks, and covering without apparent effort a long
distance in the course of an hour. The boys pattered industriously
after, doing their best to keep up, but stumbling over roots and stones,
and slipping on steep places, and dropping to the rear in spite of
themselves.

When Si made the customary halt at the end of the first hour, his little
command was strung back for a quarter of a mile, and little Pete
Skidmore was out of sight.

"Better go back and look for little Pete, Shorty," said Si. "We seem to
be losin' him."

Pete was soon brought up, panting and tired.

"Dod durn it, what're you all runnin' away from me for?" he gasped.
"Want to lose me? Want to git into the fight all by yourselves, and
leave me out? Think because I'm little I can't help? I kin shoot as well
as anybody in the crowd, dod durn you."

"There, you see the nonsense o' giving you as much rations as the
others," suggested Alf Russell. "You can't pack 'em, and you wouldn't
need 'em if you did pack 'em."

"What business is it of yours. Mister Russell, I'd like to know," asked
Monty Scruggs, "what he does with his rations. His rations are his
rights, and he's entitled to 'em. It's nobody's business what use a man
makes of his rights."

"Where are these rebels that we're goin' to fight?" asked Harry Joslyn,
eagerly scanning the horizon. "I've been looking for 'em all along, but
couldn't see none. Was you in such a hurry for fear they'd get away, and
have they got away?"

"I wasn't in no hurry," answered Si. "That was only regler marchin'
gait."

"Holy smoke," murmured the rest, wiping their foreheads; "we thought you
was trying to run the rebels down."

"Don't be discouraged, boys," said Si. "You'll soon git used to marchin'
that way right along, and never thinking of it. It may seem a little
hard now, but it won't last long. I guess you're rested enough.
Attention! Forward!\x97March!"

Si and Shorty had mercifully intended to slow down a little, and not
push the boys. But as they pulled out they forgot themselves, and fell
again into their long, swinging stride, that soon strung the boys out
worse than ever, especially as they were not now buoyed up by an
expectation of meeting the enemy.

"We must march slower. Si," said Shorty, glancing ruefully back, "or
we'll lose every blamed one o' them boys. They're too green yit."

"That's so," accorded Si. "It's like tryin' to make a grass-bellied
horse run a quarter-stretch."

"Might I inquire," asked Monty Scruggs, as he came up, wiped his face
and sat down on a rock, "whether this is what you'd call a forced march,
or merely a free-will trial trot for a record."

"Neither," answered Si. "It's only a common, straight, every-day march
out into the country. You kin count upon one a day like this for the
rest o' your natural lives\x97I mean your service. It's part o' what you
enlisted for. And this's only a beginnin'. Some days you'll have to keep
this up 15 or 18 hours at a stretch."

There was a general groan of dismay.

"Gracious, I wish I'd wings, or that I'd enlisted in the cavalry,"
sighed Harry.

"Brace up! Brace up!" said Shorty. "You'll soon git used to it, and make
your 40 miles a day like the rest of us, carrying your bed-clothes and
family groceries with you. It's all in gittin' used to it, as the man
said who'd bin skinnin' eels for 40 years, and that now they didn't mind
it a bit."

"Well, le's jog along," said Si. "We ought to git there in another hour.
There's a big rain comin' up, and we want to git under cover before it
strikes us. Forward!\x97March!"

But the rain was nearer that Si thought. It came, as the Spring rains
come in the North Georgia mountains\x97as if Niagara had been shifted into
the clouds overhead. The boys were literally washed off the road, and
clung to saplings to avoid being carried away into the brush.

"I'll fall back and keep the boys together," said Shorty, as soon as an
intermission allowed them to speak.

"Alright," said Si. "Look out for little Pete." And Si began to forge
stolidly ahead.

"Goodness, Sarjint, you're not going to travel in such a storm as this,"
gasped Gid Mackall.

"Certainly," Si called back. "Come on. We've got to reach that mill
tonight, no matter what happens. You'd might as well be drowned marchin'
as standin' still. 'Tain't rainin' no worse further ahead than here.
Forward!"

Close Up, Boys. 111

"Close up, boys," said Shorty, taking little Pete's gun and the
youngster's hand. "This's only a Spring shower. 'Tain't nothin' to what
we had on the Tullyhomy Campaign. There the drops was as big as punkins,
and come as thick as the grains on a ear o' corn. Close up, there; dodge
the big drops, and go ahead."

"Hold on to me tight! Hold on to me!" clamored little Pete. "If you
don't I'll be washed away and lost for sure."

"Come along, Peter, my son," Shorty assured him.

"I hain't never lost no children yit, and I hain't goin' to begin with
you."

The storm grew more violent every minute, limbs were torn from the
trees, and fell with a crash, and torrents rushed down from the mountain
side, across the road. Si strode on resolutely, as if the disturbance
were nothing more than a Summer zephyr. He waded squarely through the
raging streams, turning at times to help the next boy to him, strode
over the fallen limbs, and took the dashing downpour with stolid
indifference.

"Close up, boys! Close up!" shouted Shorty from time to time, "Don't
mind a little sprinkle like this. It'll lay the dust, and make marchin'
easier. Come along, Peter, my son. I'm not goin' to lose you."

Night suddenly came, with pitchy darkness, but Si steadily forged
onward. Then the rain ceased as suddenly as it began, but the road was
encumbered with fallen timber and swirling races of muddy water. They
seemed more uncomfortable even than when the rain was falling. They were
now nearing the mill, and the sound of a fitful musketry fire came to
their ears.

"They've sneaked up in the storm to attack the mill," Si called out to
Shorty. "Close up and prepare for action."

"Goodness," gasped Gid Mackall, much of whose vim had been soaked out of
him by the fearful downpour, and who was oppressed by fatigue, hunger,
and the dense blackness of the night in the strange woods. "You don't
have to fight when you're wetter'n a drowned rat, and so tired you're
ready to drop, do you?"

"That's what you do," said Shorty, wiping off his musket. "That's the
way you'll have to do most o' your fightin'. The miserabler you feel the
miserabler you want to make the other fellers feel. Boys, turn your guns
upside down and let the water run out. Then half-cock 'em, and blow into
'em to clean the water out o' the tubes. Then find a dry rag somewhere
about you, and wipe off the nipples. We want every gun to go off when
the order is given. Don't anybody load till Si gives the order."

The drenched but excited boys followed his directions with nervous
haste. Shorty took one gun after another and examined it, while Si went
forward a little ways to reconnoiter. The calm deliberation of the
partners steadied the nervous boys.

"Load," called back Si, from the vantage ground of a little knoll, upon
which he was standing, trying to see into the darkness beyond. A volley
from out in front responded to the sound of his voice, and bullets
knocked bark off the big chestnut behind which he had shrewdly taken
refuge.

"Jest as I expected, Si," Shorty called back to him. "The rebels have
throwed back a squad to watch for us."

"Yes," said Si, coolly, as he stepped back to meet the boys. "There
ain't but 10 o' them, though. I counted every flash and located 'em.
They're all in a bunch right over there by a dead tree to the left. Move
up there quick, aim a little to the left. Aim low, and fire just as we
reach the rise. I'll fire first, and the rest of you foller. Try to hit
something, every one of you."



CHAPTER X. THE BOYS HAVE A COUPLE OF LITTLE SKIRMISHES BUT FINALLY GET
TO THE MILL.

THE time and the surroundings were such as to bring the spirits of the
boys to their lowest ebb.

The gloomy, mysterious woods seemed a world's distance away from their
homes, friends and assistance.

The long, tiresome tramp, the violent rainstorm, which had soaked them
to their skins, and apparently found its way to their hearts; the muddy,
slippery road, with torrents rushing across it, the splashing, searching
rivulets from the boughs overhead, were all deeply depressing.

The boys huddled together, as if to gain courage by closer contact.

"Gracious, I never supposed they'd pull off a fight at night, when
everybody was tired to death and soaked to a gruel," said Alf Russell in
a shivery whisper.

"They fought at Hohenlinden at night, and on the snow," answered Monty
Scruggs. "But snow's not so bad as rain, and, then, they didn't have
these awful woods. I'd feel much better if we was out in a clearing
somewhere."

"Come into line to the left, there," commanded Si, in a low tone.
"Deploy, one pace apart. Shorty, take the left out there in the bushes.
Don't make no noise, step carefully, and don't shoot till I do."

"Keep near me, Pete, and you won't git lost," said Shorty, as he stepped
off into the brush.

\x97"Must I shoot the same time you do, or wait till you shoot?" asked
Pete, who seemed less depressed by his surroundings than the others, and
mainly eager to get a chance to shoot.

"Don't watch me," cautioned Shorty. "Watch the fellers you are shootin'
at, and try to hit 'em. Fire just as soon as you want to after you hear
the others."

"I'll bet I'll hit a rebel if anybody does," said Pete with hopeful
animation.

They tramped forward a few steps over the spongy ground, and through the
dripping bushes.

The musketry fire continued fitfully around the mill in the distance.

They came to the summit of the little rise.

"Hist\x97halt; lay down, quick," called the watchful Si, in a penetrating
voice. "They've loaded agin', and are about to shoot."

He and Shorty were down on their faces as he spoke. The others obeyed
more slowly and clumsily. The rebel volley cut the limbs and bushes over
their heads, and whistled viciously through the damp air and the
darkness.

As little Pete dropped to the ground, his nervous finger touched the
trigger and his gun went off up in the air. The others took this as a
cue, and banged away as rapidly as they could get their muskets off.

Only Si and Shorty, in dropping, had kept the lay of the ground in view,
and without rising they deliberately aimed their pieces whither the
volley had come and fired. A suppressed yell of pain came from the other
side.

"We salted one of 'em, anyway," chuckled Shorty, as he raised on his
knee to reload his gun.

"Gosh all Chrismus," said Si, using his most formidable swear-word, for
he was very angry. "What was you brats shootin' at? Squirrels or angels?
A rebel'd had to be 80 cubits high, like old Haman, for one o' you to've
hit him. Lots o' good o' your packin' around guns and cartridges, if
you're goin' to waste your ammynition on the malaria in the clouds. Load
agin, now, carefully, and when you shoot agin be sure to fetch
something. I'll take my ramrod to the next boy that I ketch shootin'
higher'n a man's head. This ain't no Fourth-o'-July business. Our job's
te kill them whangdoodles over there, and I want you to 'tend strictly
to that."

The threat of a real boyish thrashing and the cool, matter-of-fact way
that Si and Shorty conducted themselves\x97precisely as if chopping trees
or mowing a field\x97steadied the boys wonderfully.

"They're about ready to shoot agin," Si spoke down the line, in a
penetrating whisper. "Everybody hug the ground, and watch the flashes.
Each feller git a good line on the flash straight in front of him, and
let the hound have a chunk o' lead just below his belt. If you're all
real good, and shoot just right, I'll take you on a rush right at them
fellers, and we'll scatter what's left like a flock o' quail. Lay low.
There it comes agin. Lay low."

An irregular volley burnt out in the blackness beyond. The bullets sang
around much closer than before, and several of them struck near Si, one
landing in the leaves and moss directly in front of him, and throwing a
wet sprinkle in his face.

"Like the parrot, I was talkin' too much and too loud," thought Si.
"They wuz all reachin' for me, and one feller made a mighty good line
shot. Le's see if I can't better him."

He drew down in his sights as carefully as he could in the darkness, and
pulled the trigger. As the smoke thinned out a little he thought he saw
something beyond which indicated a man staggering and falling.

This time the boys seemed to be firing effectively. There was a
commotion in the woods beyond, and the sound of groans on the damp air.

"Raise up!" shouted Si. "Forward! Forward! Jump 'em. Jump 'em before
they kin load agin!"

Loading his gun with the practiced ease of a veteran as he rushed
forward, Si led his squad directly against the position of the rebels.
Part of the rebels had promptly run away, as they heard Si order the
charge, but part boldly stood their ground, and were nervously
reloading, or fixing bayonets, as the squad came crashing through the
brush. One of the rebels fired a hasty, ineffectual shot, and by its
light Shorty saw the nervous little Pete, who had torn off his cumbering
haversack, letting his hat go with it, slip between him and Si, and gain
a pace in advance.

"Git back, you little rat," said Shorty, reaching out a long arm,
catching the boy by the collar, and yanking him back. "Git behind me and
stay there."

The flash revealed another rebel fumbling for a cap. Shorty's gun came
down, and the rebel fell, shot through the shoulder. The rebel leader, a
long haired, lathy man, with the quickness of a wildcat, sprang at Si
with his bayonet fixed. Heavy-footed and deliberate as Si usually was,
when the electricity of a fight was in him there was no lack of
celerity. He caught the rebel's bayonet on his musket-barrel and warded
it off so completely that the rebel shot by him in the impetus of his
own rush. As he passed Si delivered a stunning blow on the back of his
head with his gun-barrel.

"That zouave drill was a mighty good thing, after all," thought Si, as
he turned from his prostrate foe to the others.

While this was going on, the boys were imitating Shorty's example,
getting their guns loaded, and banging away as fast as they did so into
the rebels, who went down under the shots, or ran off, leaving one of
their number, a tall, lank mountaineer, who seemed beside himself with
rage. He had grasped his empty gun by the stock, and was swinging it
around his head, yelling fierce insults and defiance to the whole race
o' Yankees.

"Come on, you infernal pack o' white-livered, nigger-stealin', house-
robbin', hell-desarvin' hypocrites," he shouted. "I kin lick the hull
bilin' o' yo'uns. This is my wounded pardner here, and yo'uns can't have
neither me nor him till yo'uns down me, which y' can't do. Come on, y'
pigeon-livered cowards."

The boys who had pressed lip near him, shrank back a little, out of
possible range of that violently brandished musket, and began loading
their guns.

Shorty had stopped for an instant to turn over into an easier position
the rebel he had shot.

Si paced up. His gun was loaded, and he could have easily brought the
rebel down. But the rebel's devotion to his partner touched him.

Don't Anybody Shoot. 119

"Don't shoot, boys," he commanded; "leave me to 'tend to him. Say,
Johnny," he addressed the rebel, in a placatory way, "don't make a fool
o' yourself. Come down, we've got you, dead. Drop that gun."

"Go to brimstone blazes," shouted the rebel. "If yo'uns have got me, why
don't y' take me. I kin lick the hull caboodle o' y' sneakin' mulatters.
Come on, why don't y'?"

"Give him a wad, Si," said Shorty, reloading his own gun. "We haint no
time to lose. They need us over there."

"No, don't anybody shoot," commanded Si; "he's just crazy about his
partner. He's too brave a man to kill. Say, Johnny, have a little sense.
We haint goin' to hurt your partner, nor you, if you'll behave. Drop
that gun at once, and surrender."

"Go to blazes," retorted the rebel, swinging his gun more wildly than
ever. "Yo'uns is all liars. No dependence kin be placed on y'. If y'
want me, come and git me."'

Shorty had begun to think the thing somewhat humorous. "Look here,
Johnny," said he, "wouldn't you like a big chaw o' navy terbacker\x97bright
plug. Genuine Yankee plug? Swingin' that ere gun that way is awful
tiresome."

"Eh\x97What's that?" said the rebel, startled by the new proposition and
its coolness.

"I say, don't you want a big chaw o' terbacker? You must need it. I
always do after I've bin workin' hard. Drop your gun, and have one with
me. We're Injiannians, and we don't mean no harm to your partner, nor to
you. We'll take care o' him, if he's hurt. Here, cut your own chaw."

"Air yo'uns from Injianny?" said the rebel, bringing his gun down to a
less menacing attitude. "I've done got two brothers in Injianny, and I
hear they'uns 've done inlisted in Yankee rijiments. Mebbe yo'uns know
'em."

"Mebbe we do," said Shorty, handing him a long plug and his knife. "But
we hain't time to talk it over now. We'll do that in the mornin', when
business ain't so pressin'. Le' me hold your gun while you cut your
terbacker."

"Now, look here," said Si, "time's jumpin', and we must talk quick. If
we parole you, will you stay here, and take care o' your partner and the
others, and be here in the mornin', when we send for you?"

"You won't send for me, if yo'uns is a-gwine on ter fout we'uns up at
the mill. We'uns chaw yo'uns up, or run y' outen the country."

"We'll take care o' that," said Si sharply. "Will you promise on your
honor to stay with these men, and take care o' them till daylight, if we
don't come sooner?"

"Sartin,\x97'pon honor," answered the rebel, with his mouth full of
tobacco.

"All right, then. Load at will. Load! Forward!\x97March!" commanded Si.

Si moved on cautiously, for he feared that the runaways had told those
attacking the mill about his advance, and would bring them all down upon
him. The dying down of the firing about the mill confirmed this opinion.
He warned his boys to make as little noise as possible, and went ahead
of them some distance, to reconnoiter, slipping along the side of the
road, under the shadow of the trees. He arranged a system of signals
with Shorty, by which one click of his gunlock meant halt, and two to
come ahead. Presently he came in sight of the broad race which ran to
the mill. The starlight was sufficient to show its width and its banks,
with the logs lying along, which had been cut when it was dug. A bridge
crossed the race for the road to the mill. Beyond the ground rose
sharply, and looking at the crest against the sky, he could see the
rebels, one by one, file over, and come down to where they could crouch
behind the logs and ambuscade the bridge.

Si clicked his gunlock, and waited till he had counted 25 rebels
gathered there, which seemed to be all, as no more appeared. Then he
slipped back to Shorty, and hurriedly explained the situation.

The boys listened with sinking hearts. More than three times as many
rebels as they themselves numbered, and perhaps fiercer and stronger
than those they had already encountered.

The elation of their recent victory subsided. Again the woods became
ominously dark and gloomy, the soaking dampness very depressing. They
huddled together to brace each other up.

"Si," said Shorty, "didn't you say that it was a squad o' the Maumee
Muskrats in the mill, and that we wuz goin' to relieve 'em."

"Yes, and the Orderly said that railroad 'Mick'\x97Hennessey\x97was the
Sarjint in command."

"O, that bog-trottin' old section boss, that hairy-handed artist with
the long shovel, is there, is he with his crucifix and his prayers to
the Saints. That's all right. He's bin stormin' and swearin' ever since
the fight begun; because he's bin obliged to stay inside and shoot, and
instid of making a grand rush and settling things, according to
Donnybrook Fair rules. I tell you what you do. You work the boys
carefully down through the brush toward the race, and git 'em into
position in easy range of the rebels, covering 'em behind logs. I'll
take a circuit around to the left, and git over to the hill, behind the
rebels, and near enough the mill for Hennessey to hear me. Then I'll
fire a shot and yell for Hennessey. He knows my voice, and he'll bring
his men out like a pack o' hornets. Then you let into the rebels from
your side. They can't git across the race at you, and we'll have 'em
where we kin whipsaw 'em."

"Shorty," said Si admiringly, "Gen. Grant 'll hear o' you some day, and
then Co. Q will lose its brightest star, but the army'll gain a great
General."

"I know it; I know it," said Shorty, modestly; "but don't stop to talk
about it now. I think I've got the lay o' the mill in mind. I'll just
cut around that way. Don't shoot till you hear me."

Si quietly deployed his boys to the left of the road, and worked them
through the brush until they came to the crest overlooking the mill-
race. They took readily to this sort of work. They had all hunted
rabbits over the hills of southern Indiana, and they came into position
so softly that the rebels beyond did not suspect their presence.

Then came a long wait for the signal from Shorty. The rebels seemed to
get tired first. Presently they could be seen moving around, and Si had
hard work restraining his squad from shooting at the tempting marks.
Then the rebels began talking, at first in murmurs, and then louder.
There seemed to be a division of opinion among them. Those who had been
run back were sure that the Yankee were coming on to the relief of their
comrades in the mill. The others thought that their comrades had run the
other away just as fast.

"I tell you, hit's no use to wait for they'uns no longer," said one
strong voice. "Them Yankees is runnin' back to their camps as fast as
they'uns's legs 'll carry they'uns. If yo'uns 'd had any sand, and stood
yer ground, you'd 'a seed 'em. But yo' yaller hammers allers git the
ager when ever a cap's busted, and run yer rabbit-gizzards out."

"Y're a liar," hotly responded another voice. "Thar was more'n 50 o'
them Yankees, if thar was a man. We fit 'em awful, before we give away,
and they'd killed Burt Dolson and Bob Whittyker, and I don't know how
many more. They come bulgin' right on toward the mill, arter they'd
reformed. I know hit, bekase Eph and me staid and watched 'em, and shot
at 'em, till we thought hit best to run back and warn ye."

"Ye wuz in a powerful hurry to warn us," sneered the other. "Well,
thar's no Yankees over thar, and none haint a-comin' till daylight. I've
ketched all the ager and rhematiz here that I'm a-gwine ter. Le's go
back and salivate them fellers in the mill, and set fire to it."

This seemed to be the prevailing sentiment, and Si began to fear that
they would all go, and might intercept Shorty. He was on the point of
ordering the boys to fire, and attract their attention, when Shorty's
rifle rang out, and the next instant came a roar from Shorty's powerful
lungs, with each word clear and distinct:

"Hennessy\x97you\x97red\x97mouthed\x97Mick\x97come out. The 200th Injianny is\x97here.
Come out\x97with a rush\x97you\x97imported spalpeen\x97and jump\x97'em\x97in\x97the\x97rear!"

"Now, boys," commanded Si, "keep cool, pick your man, and fire low. I'm
goin' to take the feller that's bin doin' the big talkin'."

Each of the boys had already picked his man, and was eagerly waiting the
word. Their fire threw their enemies into confusion, and as their guns
rattled, the barricaded doors of the mill were thrown open, and
Hennessey rushed out with a wild Irish "hurroo." The rebels
incontinently fled, without an attempt at resistance.

After it was ascertained that every unhurt rebel was running for dear
life to get away, after Hennessey and his squad had gathered up the
wounded and carried them into the mill, and after the boys had yelled
themselves hoarse over their victory gained with such unexpected ease,
they suddenly remembered that they were so tired that they could
scarcely drag one foot after another, and hungrier than young wolves at
the end of a hard Winter.

"Gewhillikins," murmured Jim Humphreys, "I wonder when we're going to
have supper. I'm as holler as a stovepipe."

"You've got your suppers in your haversacks," said Si. "We'll go into
the mill and build a fire and make some coffee and fry some meat."

"In my haversack," said Jim ruefully, after they had entered the mill,
and he had run his hand into his forgotten haversack, and withdrawn it
covered with a viscid greasy mush. "My haversack's full o' water, that's
soaked everything else in it to a gruel."

"So's mine; so's mine," echoed the rest, as they examined.

"Confound it," said Si' wrathfully, as he looked into one after another.
"Didn't none o' you have sense enough to fasten down the covers
carefully, so's to keep the water out? Here it is\x97salt and sugar and
coffee, bread and greasy pork all in one nasty mess. I declare, you
don't seem to have the sense you wuz born with. You've bin breakin'
yourselves down luggin' around 10 or 15 pounds o' water, besides spilin'
your rations."

"Probably Sarjint Hennessey has some rations that he kin give us,"
suggested Shorty, who was genuinely sorry for the poor boys.

"Dade I haint\x97not a smidgeon," answered Hennessey. "We ixpicted ye's to
git here this forenoon and relieve us, and we et up ivery spoonful of
our grub for breakfast, so's to lighten us for a quick march back to
camp. They've not bin runnin' in the mill for several days, and've
carted off ivery bit of the male they ground. We're nigh starved
oursilves, but we've had a lovely little foight, and we forgive ye's for
not coming airlier. Oi wouldn't 've missed that last rush on thim
divil's for a month's double rations."

"Well," said Si, encouragingly, "we'll have to make mine and Shorty's
rations go around as well as they kin, among all of you. Fish the meat
out o' your haversacks, boys, and wash the dope off it. It ain't spiled,
anyway. We kin each of us have a little to eat tonight, and we'll trust
to Providence for termorrer."



CHAPTER XI. SHORTY GIVES THE BOYS THEIR FIRST LESSON IN FORAGING.

WITH the elasticity of youth the boys slept away their fatigue during
the night, but woke up the next morning ravenously hungry.

"What in the world are we goin' to do for grub, Si?" asked Shorty, as
soon as he got his eyes fairly open.

"Oi know what Oi'm goin' to do," said Hennessey. "Oi'm goin to show the
foinest pace av shprinting back to camp that has been sane in these
parts since our roight bruk that day at Chickamaugy. No grass'll grow
under me fate, Oi tell yez. And as I pass through your camp Oi'll foind
yer Captain, and tell the fix you're in, and to sind out some rations."

"But even if he does send them at once, they can't git here till
evenin', and I hate powerfully to let him and the rest know that we
didn't have sense enough to take care o' our victuals after we'd drawed
'em," said Si.

"If it was only one, or even two days, I'd let the boys starve it out,
as a good lesson to 'em," said Shorty. "But three seems like cruelty to
dumb beasts."

"But what'll they say about us in camp?" groaned Si. "They'll have the
grand laugh on me and you, and every one o' the boys. I'd ruther go on
quarter rations for a month than stand the riggin' they'll give us, and
have Capt. McGillicuddy give me one look when he asks the question about
how we come to lose all our rations so soon? He'll think me a purty
Sarjint to send out into the country in charge o' men, and you a fine
Corpril."

"Say," said Shorty, his face illuminated with a bright idea. "We might
report the rations 'lost in action.' That'd fix it fine. We had two good
fights, and come out ahead. That'll tickle the Captain so that he won't
be partickler what we report."

"Hurroo!" echoed Hennessey; "that's the ticket."

"But we didn't lose 'em in action, and to say so'd be a lie," answered
Si, whose conscience had none of the easy elasticity of his partner's.
"We could report 'em burnt up by lightnin','but we won't. They was lost
by sheer, dumbed carelessness, that me and you and the boys should
knowed better than to've allowed. That's all there is of it, and that's
what I'm goin' to report, if I have to."

"Great Jehosephat," exploded Shorty; "you kin certainly be the
stubbornest mule over nothin', Si Klegg, that I ever seen. We've done
fightin' enough to excuse sich a report, or any that we've a mind to
make."

"Nothin' kin justify a lie," persisted the obdurate Si.

"Holy smoke! bigger men than you\x97lots bigger\x97have squared up their
accounts that way. Didn't all the Captains in the rijiment, and the
Quartermaster and Commissary, and, for what I know, the Chaplain and the
Colonel, git clean bills o' health after the battle o' Stone River, by
reportin' everything that they couldn't find 'lost in action?'"

"Yis," added Hennessey, "and didn't my Captain, after Chickamaugy, git
us all new uniforms and complete kits, by reportin' iverything 'lost in
action?' Smart man, my Captain, Oi tell yez."

"Well, I don't think any the more o' them for it. We spiled our rations
before the fightin' begun, they'd bin spiled if there'd bin no fightin',
and I haint going to send no other words, if I've got to send any word."

"Who the divil's goin' to carry this word, Oi'd like to know, Misther
Klegg?" broke in Hennessey. "Are you goin' to put words into my mouth,
Misther Klegg? Oi'll tell your Captain just fwhat Oi plaze, about you
and your foight and your rations. Oi want no more worrids wid ye.
Attintion, min! Shoulder, a-r-m-s! Roight face! Forward, foile left!\x97M-
a-r-c-h!"

"I s'pose I ain't responsible for any o' the fairy tales with which that
wild Mick'll fill up the Captain," said Si, self-consolingly, as
Hennessey and his squad marched away in quick time. "He'll put a rich,
red, County Connaught color on everything that's happened out here, and
the Captain'll believe as much as suits him. Anyhow, Hennessey'll not
say anything to our disadvantage, and probably the Captain'll send out
some rations by fast mule express."

"Yes," accorded Shorty; "we'll git some rations from camp by this
evenin'. Cap will look out for that. Meanwhile, I'll take out two or
three o' the boys on a scout into the country, to see if we can't pick
up something to eat."

"Humph," said Si, skeptically, "you'll find mighty poor pickin', after
them Ohio boys 's bin out here three days. What they haint taken has
been rooted in the ground."

"Yes; they're awful foragers and thieves," assented Shorty. "All Ohio
boys is. I'm glad I'm from Injianny. Still, I've generally bin able to
find something, even after the Ohio boys had bin there."

"Well, I think we'd better first go back and see about them rebels that
we wounded last night. They may be sufferin' awfully, and we oughtn't to
think about something to eat, before doin' what we kin for them."

"That's so," assented Shorty. "I'd a-gone back last night, but we was
all so dead tired."

"Well, I'll take two o' the boys and go back. You stay here with the
rest, and hold the mill. I'll git back as soon's I kin, and then you kin
take a couple o' the boys and go out foragin'."

Calling Alf Russell and Monty Scruggs to follow him, Si started back to
the scene of the skirmish of the night before. The woods looked totally
different, under the bright Spring sunshine, from what they had seemed
in the chill, wet blackness of the previous night. Buds were bursting
and birds singing, and all nature seemed very blithe and inspiring.

"Gracious, what a difference daylight makes in the woods," murmured
Monty Scruggs. "Tain't a bit like Hohenlinden.

"'Tis morn, but scarce yon lurid sun Can pierce the war-clouds rolling
dun, Where furious Frank and fiery Hun Shout 'mid their sulphurous
canopy."

"You'd think, from the way the bird 's singing, and the flowers
blooming, that there'd never been a gun fired within a hundred miles o'
here."

"Seems like we only dreamed all that happened last night," accorded Alf
Russell. "There's nothing in the woods or the ground that looks as it
did then, and I can't hardly make myself believe that this is the way we
come."

"Well, here's something that'll convince you it wasn't a dream," said
Si, as they made their way through the broken and trampled brush, and
came to a little knoll, on which the final fight had been made, and
where were gathered the wounded rebels. There were three of these; the
man whom Shorty had shot in the shoulder, the one whom Si knocked down
by a stunning blow on the head, and the one who had been hit in the
thigh by a shot from the boys, and who was the "pardner" of the
recalcitrant man of the previous evening. He was still there, caring for
his comrades. The men who had been shot were so faint from loss of blood
that they could scarcely move, and the man whom Si had struck was only
slowly recovering consciousness.

The unhurt rebel was standing there with his gun in hand, and had
apparently been watching their approach for some time.

"My parole was out at daylight," he said, as they came up. "The sun's
now nearly an hour high. I ain't obleeged to be good no more, and I
could' 've drapped one o' yo'uns when y' fust turned offen the road, and
got away. I s'pose I'd orter've done hit, and I'd a great mind ter, but
suthin' sorter held me back. Onderstand that?"

"You'd a' bin a nice man to've shot at us when we wuz comin' to help
your comrades," said Si, walking up coolly toward him, and getting near
enough to prevent his leveling his gun, while he held his own ready for
a quick blow with the barrel. "We needn't've come back here at all,
except that we felt it right to take care o' the men that got hurt."

"Come back to take keer o' the men that yo'uns swatted last night?" said
the rebel incredulously. "That haint natural. 'Taint Yankee-like. What'd
yo'uns keer for 'em, 'cept to see if they'uns's dead yit, and mebbe gin
'em a prod with the bayonit to help 'em along? But they'uns's mouty nigh
dead, now. They'uns can't last much longer. But I'll kill the fust one
o' yo'uns that tries to prod one o' they'uns with a bayonit. Let
they'uns alone. They'll soon be gone."

"What're you talkin' about, you dumbed fool?" said Si, irritably. "We
haint no Injuns nor heathens, to kill wounded men. We're Injiannians and
Christians, what read the Bible, and foller what it says about lovin'
your enemies, and carin' for them what despitefully use you\x97that is,
after you've downed 'em good and hard."

"Does your Bible say that ere?" asked the rebel.

"Yes, indeed."

"Well, hit must be a new-fangled kind of a Yankee Bible. The only Bible
I ever seed was a piece o' one that used t' be in dad's house, and I've
done heared strangers read hit aloud hundreds o' times, and hit said
nothin' like that. Hit had lots in it 'bout killin' every man and man-
child, and hewin' 'em to pieces afore the Lord, but nothin' 'bout lovin'
and takin' keer o' them that wuz fernest ye."

"Well, it's in there, all the same," said Si impatiently, "and you must
mind it, same's we do. Come, drop that gun, and help us take care o'
these men. They ain't goin' to die. We won't let 'em. They're all right.
Just faint from loss o' blood. We kin fix 'em up. Set your gun agin'
that beech there, and go to the branch and git some water to wash their
wounds, and we'll bring 'em around all right."

There was something so masterful in Si's way, that the rebel obeyed. Si
set his own gun down against a hickory, in easy reach, and had the boys
do the same. He had naturally gained a good deal of knowledge of rough
surgery in the army, and he proceeded to put it to use. He washed the
wounds, stayed the flow of blood, and to take the rising fever out of
the hurts, he bound on them fresh, green dockleaves, wet with water.
After the man he had struck had had his face washed, and his head
thoroughly doused with cold water, he recovered rapidly and was soon
able to sit up, and then rise weakly to his feet.

The rebel looked on wonderingly.

"Well, yo'uns is as good doctrin' hurts as ole Sary Whittleton, and
she's a natural bone-setter," he said.

"Well, don't stand around and gawk,", said Si snappishly. "Help. What's
your name?"

"Gabe Brimster."

"Well, Gabe, go down to the branch and git some more water, quick as you
kin move them stumps o' your'n. Give the men all they want to drink, and
then pour some on their wounds. Then go there and cut some o' them
pawpaws, and peel their bark, to make a litter to carry your pardner
back to the mill. Boys, look around for guns. Smash all you kin find on
that rock there, so they won't be of no more use. Bust the locks good,
and bend the barrels. Save two to make the handles of the litter."

Si proceeded to deftly construct a litter out of the two guns, with some
sticks that he cut with a knife, and bound with pawpaw strips.

A few days before, Si, while passing near the hospital, saw a weak
convalescent faint and fall. He rushed to the Surgeon's tent, and that
officer being busy, handed him a small bottle with a metal top, and
filled with strong ammonia, telling him to unscrew the top and hold the
bottle under the man's nose. He did so, with the effect of reviving him.
Si thrust the bottle into his pocket, to help the man back to the
hospital, and forgot all about it, until one after another of his
present patients overdid himself, had a relapse, and fainted away. Si
happened to feel his bottle, drew it out, unscrewed the top, thrust it
under their noses, and revived them.

Gabs's eyes opened wider at each performance. He had never seen a bottle
with a metal top, or one that unscrewed, or anything that seemed to
effect such wonderful changes by merely pointing it at a man. His
mountaineer intellect, prone to "spells" and "charms," saw in it at once
an instrument of morta: witchcraft. With a paling face, he began edging
toward his gun. Busy as Si had been, he had kept constantly in mind the
possibility of Gabe's attempting some mischief, and did not let himself
lose sight of the rebel's gun. He quickly rose, and with a few strides,
placed himself between Gabe and his gun.

Mr. Yank, Don't Conjure Me. 135

"Where are you goin'?" he said sternly.

"I'm a-gwine away," replied the man, in terror-stricken accents. "I'm a-
gwine away mouty quick. I don't want to stay here no longer."

"Indeed you're not goin' away. You'll stay right with us, and help us
take care o' your comrades."

"I'm a-gwine away, I tell y'," shrieked Gabe. "I'm gwine right away. I'm
skeered o' yo'uns. Yo'uns is no doctor, nor no sojer. Yo'uns is a
conjure-man, and a Yankee conjure-man, too\x97wust kind. Yo'uns 've bin
puttin' spells on them men, and yo'uns'll put a spell on me. I've felt
hit from the fust. I'm a-gwine away. Le'me go, quick."

Si caught the man roughly by the shoulder with his left hand, and raised
his right threateningly. It still had the bottle in it. "You're not
goin' a step, except with us," he said. "Go back there, and 'tend to
your business as I told you, or I'll break you in two."

The sight of the dreadful bottle pointed at him completely unnerved the
rebel. He fell on his knees.

"O, Mister Yank\x97Mister Conjure-man! don't put no spell on me. Pray to
God, don't! I had one on me wunst, when I was little, and liked to've
died from hit. I haint no real rebel. I wuz conscripted into the army,
or I wouldn't be foutin' yo'uns. I won't fout no more, if yo'uns'll not
put a spell on me. 'Deed I won't! I swar to God I wont!"

And he raised his right hand in testimony.

"Put a spell on you? Conjure you? What dumbed nonsense!" ejaculated Si,
and then his eyes caught the rebel's fastened on the bottle in his hand,
and a gleam of the meaning entered his mind. He had no conception of the
dread the mountaineers have of being "conjured," but he saw that
something about the bottle was operating terrifically on the rebel's
mind and took advantage of it. He was in too much of a hurry to inquire
critically what it was, but said: "Well, I won't do nothin' to you, so
long's you're good, but mind that you're mighty good, and do just as I
say, or I'll fix you. Git up, now, and take hold o' your pardner's feet,
and help me lift him on the litter. Then you take hold o' the front
handles. Monty, throw your gun-sling over your shoulder, and take hold
o' the rear handles. The two o' you carry this man back. Alf, throw your
gun-sling over your shoulder, put your arm under this man's, and help
him along. I'll help this man."

They slowly made their way back toward the mill. As they came on the
crest of the last rise, they saw Shorty and the rest eagerly watching
for them. Shorty and the others ran forward and helped them bring the
men in. Shorty was particularly helpful to the man he had shot. He
almost carried him in to the mill, handling him as tenderly as if a
child, fixed a comfortable place for him on the floor with his own
blankets, and took the last grains of his coffee to make him a cup. This
done, he said:

"I'm goin' out into the country to try and find some chickens to make
some broth for you men. Come along, Harry Joslyn, Gid Mackall and little
Pete."

The country roundabout was discouragingly poor, and had been thoroughly
foraged over. But Shorty had a scent for cabins that were hidden away
from the common roads, and so escaped the visitations of ordinary
foragers. These were always miserably poor, but generally had a half-
dozen chickens running about, and a small store of cornmeal and
sidemeat. Ordinarily he would have passed one of these in scorn, because
to take any of their little store would starve the brood of unkempt
children that always abounded. But now, they were his hope. He had been
playing poker recently with his usual success, and as the bets were in
Confederate money, he had accumulated quite a wad of promises to "Pay in
gold, six months after the ratification of a Treaty of Peace between the
Confederate States and the United States." He would make some
mountaineer family supremely happy by giving them more money than they
had ever seen in their lives, in exchange for their stock of meal,
chickens and sidemeat. They would know where to get more, and so the
transaction would be a pleasant one all around.

In the meanwhile, little Pete had visions of killing big game in the
mountain woods. The interminable forest suggested to him dreams of bear,
deer, buffalo, elk, and all the animals he had read about. It would be a
great thing to bring down an elk or a deer with his Springfield rifle,
and then be escorted back' to camp in triumph, with the other boys
carrying his game. He kept circling through the woods, in sight or
hearing of the others, expecting every minute to come upon some animal
that would fill his youthful sanguine hopes.

Shorty at last found a poor little cabin such as he had been looking
for. It was hidden away in a little cove, and had never been visited by
the men of either army. It had the usual occupants\x97a weak-eyed, ague-
smitten man, who was so physically worthless that even the rebel
conscripters rejected him; a tall, gaunt woman, with a vicious
shrillness in her voice and a pipe in her mouth; a half score of mangy
yellow dogs, and an equal number of wild, long-haired, staring children.
They had a little "jag" of meal in a bag, a piece of sidemeat, and a
half-dozen chickens. The man had that morning shot an opossum, lean from
its Winter fasting. Shorty rejected this contemptuously.

"I've bin mighty hungry in my time," said he, "but I never got quite so
low down as to eat anything with a tail like a rat. That'd turn my
stummick if I was famishin'."

The man looked on Shorty's display of wealth with lack-luster eyes, but
his wife was fascinated, and quickly closed up a deal which conveyed to
Shorty all the food that they had. Just as Shorty had completed payment,
there came a shot from little Pete's rifle, and the next instant that
youth appeared at the edge of the cornpatch extending up hill from the
cabin, hatless, and yelling at the top of his voice. Shorty and the
others picked up their guns and took position behind the trees.

"What's the matter, Pete?" asked Shorty, as the boy came up, breathless
from his long run. "Rebels out there?"

"No," gasped Pete. "I was hunting out there for a deer, or a elk, or a
bear, when suddenly I come acrost the queerest kind of an animal. It
looked more like a hog than anything else, yet it wasn't a hog, for it
was thinner'n a cat. It had long white tusks, longer'n your hand, that
curled up from its mouth, little eyes that flashed fire, and great long
bristles on his back, that stood straight up. I shot at it and missed
it, and then it run straight at me. I made for the fence as hard as I
could, but it outrun me and was gaining on me every jump. Just as I clim
the fence it a-most ketched me, and made a nip not six inches from my
leg. I could hear him gnash them awful tusks o' his'n."

"Humph," said the woman. "He's run acrost Stevenson's old boar, that
runs in them woods up thar, and is mouty savage this time o' year. He'd
take a laig offen a youngster quicker'n scat, if he ketched him. He done
well to run."

Shorty and the others walked up to the fence and looked over. There was
the old razor-back King of the woods still raging around sniffing the
air of combat.

"Why, it's only a hog, Pete!" said Shorty.

"Only a hog!" murmured Pete with shamed heart.

"That a hog?" echoed the others. "Well, that's the queerest looking hog
I ever saw."

"It's a hog all the same," Shorty assured them. "A genuine razor-back
hog. But he's got the secession devil in him like the people, and you
want to be careful of him. He ain't fit to eat or I'd kill him. Let's
git back to the mill."



CHAPTER XII. THE OPENING OF THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN.

WHAT an ineffably imposing spectacle of military power was presented to
the May sun, shining on the picturesque mountains and lovely valleys
around Chattanooga in the busy days of the Spring of 1864.

Never before, in all his countless millions of journeys around the
globe, had he seen a human force of such tremendous aggressive power
concentrated on such a narrow space. He may have seen larger
armies\x97though not many\x97but he had never seen 100,000 such veterans as
those\x97originally of as fine raw material as ever gathered under a
banner, and trained to war by nearly three years of as arduous schooling
as men ever knew, which sifted out the weaklings, the incompetents, the
feeblewilled by the boisterous winnowing of bitter war.

Thither had been gathered 35,000 of the Army of the Tennessee, who had
"Fort Donelson," "Shiloh," "Corinth," "Chickasaw Bayou," "Big Black,"
"Jackson," and "Vicksburg" in letters of gold on their tattered
regimental banners, and whom Sherman proudly boasted were "the best
soldiers on earth." The courtly, idolized McPherson was their leader,
with such men as John A. Logan, T. E. G. Ransom, Frank P. Blair and P.
J. Osterhaus as lieutenants and subordinates.

There was the Army of the Cumberland, 60,000 strong, from which all
dross had been burned by the fierce fires of Shiloh, Perryville, Stone
River and Chickamauga; and the campaigns across two States. "The noblest
Roman of them all," grand old "Pap" Thomas, was in command, with Howard,
Stanley, Newton, Wood, Palmer, Davis, Joe Hooker, Williams and Geary as
his principal lieutenants.

And thither came\x9715,000 strong\x97all of the Army of the Ohio who could be
spared from garrisoning dearly-won Kentucky and East Tennessee. They
were men who had become inured to hunting their enemies down in mountain
fastnesses, and fighting them wherever they could be found. At their
head was Gen. J. M. Schofield, whom the Nation had come to know from his
administration of the troublous State of Missouri. Gens. Hovey, Hascall
and Cox were division commanders.

With what an air of conscious power; of evident mastery of all that
might confront them; of calm, unflinching determination for the
conflict, those men moved and acted. They felt themselves part of a
mighty machine, that had its work before it, and would move with
resistless force to perform the appointed task.

The men fell instinctively into their ranks in the companies. Without an
apparent effort the companies became regiments, the regiments quietly,
but with swift certainty, swung into their places in the brigade, and
the brigades massed up noiselessly into divisions and corps.

And while the 100,000 veterans were drilling, organizing and manuvering
the railroad was straining every one of its iron and steel tendons to
bring in food and ammunition to supply the mighty host, and provide a
store from which it could draw when it went forth upon its great errand.
There were 35,000 horses to be fed, in addition to the 100,000 veterans,
and so the baled hay made heaps that rivalled in size the foothills of
the mountains. The limitless cornfields of Ohio, Indiana, and Illinois
heaped up their golden harvests in other hillocks. Every mountain pass
was filled with interminable droves of slow-footed cattle, bringing
forward "army beef on the hoof." Boxes of ammunition and crackers, and
barrels of pork covered acres, and the railroad brought them in faster
than the hundreds of regimental teams could haul them out.

There is no place in the world where the assembling of such a mighty
host could be seen to such an advantage as at Chattanooga. The mountains
that tower straight up into the clouds around the undulating plain on
which the town stands form a glorious natural amphitheater about an
arena for gigantic dramas.

Naturally, the boys were big-eyed all the time with the sights that
filled the landscape near and far. Wherever they looked they were
astonished, and when in a march they came out on a crest that commanded
a wide view, they could not help halting, to drink all its wonders in.
Even the experienced Si and Shorty were as full of amazement as they,
and watched with fascination the spectacle of mighty preparation and
concentrated power.

One day they got a pass and took the boys over to Lookout Mountain, for
a comprehensive survey of the whole scene. They trudged over the steep,
rough, winding road up the mountainside, and mads their way to Pulpit
Rock, on the "nose" of the mountain, which commands a view that is
hardly equalled in any country. From it they overlooked, as upon a map,
the wide plain around Chattanooga, teeming with soldiers and horses, and
piled-up war material, the towering line of Mission Ridge, the fort-
crowned hills, the endless square miles of white camps.

"'The King sat on the rocky brow That looks o'er sea-born Salamis,

And ships by thousands lay below, And men and Nations, all were his,'

murmured Monty Scruggs. "I didn't suppose there was as many soldiers in
all the world before."

"Si," said Shorty, "we thought old Rosecrans had heaped up the measure
when we started out from Nashville for Stone River. But that was only
the beginning for the gang he got together for the Tullyhomy campaign,
and 'taint more than onct to what old Sherman's goin' to begin business
with. I like it. I like to see any man start into a game with a full
hand and a big stack o' chips."

"Well, from the talk that comes down from headquarters," said Si, "he
may need every man. We've never had enough men so far. The rebels have
always had more men than we did, and had the advantage of position. We
only won by main strength and bull-headedness, and Rosecrans's good
management. The rebels are straining every nerve to put up the fight o'
their lives, and they say old Jo Johnston's got nearly as many men over
there at Buzzard Roost as we have, and works that beat them we hustled
Bragg out of around Tullyhomy."

"Well, let's have it as soon as possible," said Shorty. "I'm anxious to
see if we can't make another Mission Ridge over there at Buzzard Roost,
and run them fellers clean back to the Gulf of Mexico. But, great
Jehosephat, won't there be a Spring freshet when all them men and horses
and cattle break camp and start out over the country."

"Goodness, what kin I do to keep from gitting lost in all that crowd?"
wailed Pete Skidmore, and the others looked as if his fears also struck
their hearts.

"Just stick closs to the 200th Injianny and to me, and you won't git
lost, Pete," said Shorty. "The 200th Injianny's your home, and all real
nice boys stay around home."

They made a little fire on the broad, flat surface of Pulpit Rock,
boiled some coffee, and ate their dinner there, that they might watch
the wonderful panorama without interruption. As the afternoon, advanced,
they saw an unusual commotion in the camps, and the sound of
enthusiastic cheering floated faintly up to their lofty perch.

"I'll bet a big red apple orders to move has come," said Si. "Le's git
back to camp as quick as possible."

They hurried down the mountain-side, and turned sharply to the right
into the road to Rossville Gap.

"Yes, the orders to move has come," said Shorty. "See them big fires,
and the boys burnin' up things."

In every camp the cheering men were making bonfires of the furnishings
of their Winter camps. Chairs, benches, tables, checker-boards,
cupboards, what-nots, etc., which had cost them considerable pains to
procure, and upon which they had lavished no little mechanical skill,
and sometimes artistic ornamentation, were ruthlessly thrown to feed the
joyful fires which blazed in each camp which had been lucky enough to
receive orders. The bands were playing, to emphasize and give utterance
to the rejoicings of the men.

Shorty took little Pete by the hand to assist him in keeping up with the
rapid pace Si and he set up to get back to their own camp, and
participate in its demonstrations.

"Of course, our rijimint's goin' too\x97goin' to have the advance," Si said
to Shorty, more than anything else to quiet a little disturbing fear
that would creep in. "They wouldn't leave it behind to guard one o'
these mud-piles they call forts, would they?"

"They never have yit," answered Shorty, hopefully. "They say old Sherman
is as smart as they make 'em. He knows a good rijimint when he sees it,
and he's certain to want the 200th Injianny in the very foremost place.
Hustle along, boys."

As they neared their camp they were delighted to find it in a similar
uproar to the others, with the men cheering, the brigade band playing,
and the men throwing everything they could find on the brightly blazing
bonfires. Ordinarily, such a long march as they had made to the top of
the Lookout Mountain and back again would have been very tiresome, but
in the enthusiasm of the occasion they forgot their fatigue\x97almost
forgot their hunger.

"The orders are," the Orderly-Sergeant explained to Si, as they were
cooking supper, "that we're to move out tomorrow morning in light
marching order, three days' rations, 80 rounds of cartridges, only
blankets, no tents, but one wagon to a regiment, and one mule to a
company to carry ammunition and rations. O, we're stripped down to the
skin for a fight, I tell you. It's to be business from the first jump,
and we'll be right in it. We're to have the advance, and clear away the
rebel cavalry and pickets, to open up the road for the rest of the
division. You'll find your rations and ammunition in front of my tent.
Draw 'em and get everything ready, and go to sleep as soon as possible,
for we'll skin out of here at the first peep of day. There's a whole
passel of sassy rebel cavalry out in front, that's been entirely too
familiar and free, and we want to get a good whack at them before they
know what's up."

And the busy Orderly passed on to superintend other preparations in the
company.

After drawing and dividing the rations and cartridges. Si gave the boys
the necessary instruction about having their things ready so that they
could get them in the dark the next morning, and ordered them to
disregard the bonfires and mirth-making, and lie down to get all the
sleep they could, in preparation for the hard work of the next day.
Then, like the rest of the experienced men, who saw that the campaign
was at length really on, and this would be the last opportunity for an
indefinite while to write, he sat down to write short letters to his
mother and to Annabel.

Influenced by the example, Shorty thought he ought to write to Maria. He
had received a second letter from her the day that he had gone out to
the mill, and its words had filled his soul with a gladness that passed
speech. The dispassionate reader would not have seen anything in it to
justify this. He would have found it very commonplace, and full of
errors of spelling and of grammar. But Shorty saw none of these.
Shakspere could have written nothing so divinely perfect to him. He had
not replied to it sooner, because he had been industriously thinking of
fitting things to say in reply. Now he must answer at once, or postpone
it indefinitely, and that meant so much longer in hearing again from
her. He got out his stationery, his gold pen, his wooden inkstand,
secured a piece of a cracker box for a desk, and seated himself far from
Si as possible among the men who were writing by the light of the pitch-
pine in the bonfires. Then he pulled from his breast the silk bandana,
and carefully developed from its folds the pocket-book and Maria's last
letter, which he spread out and re-read several times.

Commonplace and formal as the letter was, there was an intangible
something in it that made him feel a little nearer the writer than ever
before. Therefor, he began his reply:

Dere Miss Maria Klegg:

"I talk mi pen in hand to inform you that our walkin'-papers has at last
come, and we start termorrer mornin' for Buzzard Roost to settle jest
whose to rool that roost. Our ideas and Mister Jo Johnston's differ on
that subjeck. When we git through with him hele no more, though he
probably won't be so purty as he is now."

Little Pete's Awful Rebels. 149

He stopped to rest after this prodigious literary effort, and wipe the
beaded sweat from his brow. He saw little Pete Skidmore looking at him
with troubled face.

"What're you doin' up, Pete? Lay down and go to sleep."

"Say, Corpril, the Orderly said we wuz goin' to fight a whole passel of
rebel cavalry, didn't he?"

"Um-hum!" assented Shorty, cudgeling his brain as to what he should next
write.

"Them's them awful kind o' rebels, ain't they\x97the John Morgan kind\x97that
ride big horses that snort fire, and they have long swords, with which
they chop men's heads off?"

"A lot o' yellin', gallopin' riff-raff," said Shorty, with the usual
contempt of an infantryman for cavalry. "Ain't worth the fodder their
bosses eat."

"Ain't they terribler than any other kind o' rebels?" asked Pete,
anxiously.

"Naah," said Shorty, sharply. "Go to sleep, Pete, and don't bother me
with no more questions. I'm writin' a letter." He proceeded with his
literary effort:

"I was gladder than I kin tell you to git yore letter. You do write the
best letters of any woman in the whole world."

He looked up, and there was little Pete's face before him.

"What do you do when one o' them wild rebels comes cavorting and tearing
toward you, on a big hoss, with a long sword, and yelling like a
catamount?" he asked.

"Paste him with a bullet and settle him," said Shorty testily, for he
wanted to go on with his letter.

"But s'pose he comes on you when your gun ain't loaded, and his sword
is, or you've missed him, as I did that hog?"

"Put on your bayonet and prod his hoss in the breast, and then give him
18 inches o' cold steel. That'll settle him. Go and lay down, Pete, I
tell you. Don't disturb me. Don't you see I'm writing?"

Shorty went on with his letter.

"How I wish you wood rite offener. Ide like to get a letter from you
every\x97"

"Say, Corpril," broke in little Pete, "they say that them rebel cavalry
kin reach much further with their swords when they're up on a hoss than
you kin with your gun and bayonit, especially when you're a little
feller like me, and they're quicker'n wildcats, and there's just
millions of 'em, and\x97"

"Who says?" said Shorty savagely. "You little open-mouthed squab, are
you lettin' them lyin', gassin, galoots back there fill you up with
roorbacks about them triflin', howlin', gallopin', rebel cavalry? Go
back there, and tell 'em that if I ketch another man breathin' a word to
you about the rebel cavalry I'll come and mash his head as flat as a
pancake. Don't you be scared about rebel cavalry. You're in much more
danger o' bein' struck by lightnin' than of bein' hit by a rebel on
hossback. Go off and go to sleep, now, and don't ask me no more
questions."

"Can't I ask you just one?" pleaded Pete.

"Yes, just one."

"If we form a holler square agin cavalry will I be in the holler, or up
on the banks?"

For the first time in his life, Shorty restrained the merciless jeer
that would come to his lips at any exhibition of weakness by those
around him. The thought of Maria softened him and made him more
sympathetic. He had promised her to be a second father to little Pete.
He saw that the poor boy was being frightened as he had never been
before by the malicious fun of the veterans in pouring into his ears
stories of the awful character of the rebel cavalry. Shorty sucked the
ink off his pen, put his hand soothingly on Pete, and said in a
paternally comforting way:

"My boy, don't let them blowhards back there stuff you with sich
nonsense about the rebel cavalry. They won't git near enough you to hit
you with a sword half a mile long. They're like yaller dogs\x97their bark's
the wust thing about 'em. I'll look out for you. You'll stay right by
me, all the time, and you won't git hurt. You go back there to my
blankits and crawl into 'em and go to sleep. I'll be there as soon's I
finish this letter, Forgit all about the rebel cavalry, and go to sleep.
Ter-morrer you'll see every mother's son o' them rebels breakin' their
hoss' necks to git out o' range o' our Springfields."

Then Shorty finished his letter:

"Ime doin' my best to be a second father to little Pete. Heze as good a
little soul as ever lived, but when I talk another boy to raise it'll be
sumwhair else than in the army.

"Yores, till deth."

Just then the silver-voiced bugles in hundreds of camps on mountain-
sides, in glens, in the valleys, and on the plains began ringing out
sweetly mournful "Taps," and the echoes reverberated from the towering
palisades of Lookout to the rocky cliffs of the Pigeon Mountains.

It was the last general "Taps" that mighty army would hear for 100 days
of stormy battling.

The cheering ceased, the bonfires burned out. Shorty put his letter in
an envelope, directed it, and added it to the heap at the Chaplain's
tent.

Then he went back and arranged his things so that he could lay his hands
unfailingly on them in the darkness of the morning, straightened little
Pete out so that he would lie easier, and crawled in beside him.



CHAPTER XIII. THE FIRST DAY OF THE ATLANTA CAMPAIGN.

AS usual, it seemed to the boys of the 200th Ind. that they had only
lain down when the bugle blew the reveille on the morning of May 3,
1864.

The vigilant Orderly-Sergeant was at once on his feet, rousing the other
"non-coms" to get the men up.

Si and Shorty rose promptly, and, experienced campaigners as they were,
were in a moment ready to march anywhere or do anything as long as their
rations and their cartridges held out.

The supply of rations and cartridges were the only limitations Sherman's
veterans knew. Their courage, their willingness, their ability to go any
distance, fight and whip anything that breathed had no limitations. They
had the supremest confidence in themselves and their leaders, and no
more doubt of their final success than they had that the sun would rise
in the morning.

Vigorous, self-reliant manhood never reached a higher plane than in the
rank and file of Sherman's army in the Spring of 1864.

Si and Shorty had only partially undressed when they lay down. Their
shoes, hats and blouses were with their haversacks under their heads.
Instinctively, as their eyes opened, they reached for them and put them
on.

That was a little trick only learned by hard service.

The partners started in to rouse their boys. As soon as these were
fairly awake they became greatly excited. They had gone to sleep
bubbling over with the momentousness of the coming day, and now that day
had opened.

There was a frantic scrambling for clothing, which it was impossible for
them to find in the pitchy darkness. There were exclamations of boyish
ill-temper at their failure. They thought the enemy were right upon
them, and every instant was vital. Monty Scruggs and Alf Russell could
not wait to dress, but rushed for their guns the first thing, and
buckled on their cartridge-boxes.

"Gid Mackall, you've got on my shoes," screamed Harry Josyln. "I can't
find 'em nowhere, and I laid 'em right beside me. Take 'em off this
minute."

"Hain't got your shoes on; can't find but one o' my own," snorted Gid in
reply. "You helter-skelter little fly-up-the-crick, you never know where
your own things are, and you lose everybody else's."

"There's my shoe," exclaimed Harry, as he stumbled over one.

"No; that's mine. Let it alone\x97give it to me," yelled Gid, and in an
instant the two were locked together in one of their usual fights.

Si snatched them apart, cuffed them, and lighted a bit of candle, which
he kept for emergencies, to help them and the rest find their things. He
improved the occasion to lecture them as to the way they should do in
the future.

After awakening him, Shorty had calmed down the excited little Pete,
found his shoes and other clothes for him, and seen that he put them on
properly.

"Have everything all right at startin', Pete," said he, "and you'll be
all right for the day. You'll have plenty o' time. The rebels'll wait
for us."

"Aint them them, right out there?" asked Pete nervously, pointing to the
banks of blackness out in front.

"No; them's the same old cedar thickets they wuz when you went to bed.
They hain't changed a mite durin' the night, except that they've got
some dew on 'em. You must git over seein' bouggers wherever it's dark.
We'll build a fire and cook some breakfast, and git a good ready for
startin'. You must eat all you kin, for you'll need all you kin hold
before the day's over."

Si was employed the same way in quieting down the rest, seeing that
every one was properly clothed and had all his equipments, and then he
gathered them around a little fire to boil their coffee and broil a
piece of fresh beef for their breakfast. He had the hardest work getting
them to pay attention to this, and eat all they could. They were so
wrought up over the idea that the battle would begin at any minute that
the sound of a distant bugle or any noise near would bring them up
standing, to the utter disregard of their meal.

"Take it cool, boys, and eat all you kin," he admonished them. "It's
generally a long time between meals sich times as these, and the more
you eat now the longer you kin go without."

But the boys could not calm themselves.

"There, ain't that rebel cavalry galloping and yelling?" one exclaimed;
and they all sprang to their feet and stared into the darkness.

"No," said Shorty, with as much scorn as he could express with his
mouthful of the last issue of soft bread that he was to get. "Set down.
That's only the Double Canister Battery goin' to water. Their Dutch
bugler can't speak good English, his bugle only come to this country at
the beginning o' the war, and he's got a bad cold in his head besides.
Nobody kin understand his calls but the battery boys, and they won't
have no other. They swear they've the best bugler in the army."'

"Set down! Set down, I tell you," Si repeated sternly, "and swaller all
the grub you kin hold. That's your first business, and it's just as much
your business as it is to shoot when you're ordered to. You've got to
lay in enough now to run you all day. And all that you've got to listen
for is our own bugle soundin' 'Fall in!' Don't mind no other noise."

They tried to obey, but an instant later all leaped to their feet, as a
volley of mule screechers mixed with human oaths and imprecations came
up from a neighboring ravine.

"There! There's the rebels, sure enough," they ejaculated, dropping
their coffee and meat and rushing for their guns.

"Come back and set down, and finish your breakfast," shouted Si. "That
ain't no rebels. That's only the usual family row over the breakfast
table between the mules and the teamsters."

"Mules is kickin' because the teamsters don't wash their hands and put
on white aprons when they come to wait on 'em," suggested Shorty.

The boys looked at him in amazement, that he should jest at such a
momentous time.

"There's the 'assembly' now," said Si, as the first streak of dawn on
the mountain-top was greeted by the bugler at the 200th Ind.'s
Headquarters, filling the chill air with stirring notes.

"Put on your things. Don't be in a hurry. Put on everything just right,
so's it won't fret or chafe you during the march. You'll save time by
takin' time now."

He inspected the boys carefully as it grew lighter, showed them how to
adjust their blanket-rolls and canteens and heavy haversacks so as to
carry to the best advantage, examined their guns, and saw that each had
his full allowance of cartridges.

"Here comes meat for the rebel cavalry," shouted one of the older
members of the company, as Si brought his squad up to take its place on
the left of Co. Q.

"I wouldn't say much about rebel cavalry, if I was you, Wolf Greenleaf,"
Si admonished the joker. "Who was it down in Kentucky that was afraid to
shoot at a rebel cavalryman, for fear it would make him mad, and he
might do something?"

The laugh, that followed this old-time "grind" on one of the teasers of
new recruits silenced him, and encouraged the boys.

As the light broadened, and revealed the familiar hills and woods,
unpeopled by masses of enemies, the shivery "2 o'clock-in-the-morning-
feeling" vanished from the boys' hearts, and was succeeded by eagerness
to see the redoubtable rebels, of whom so much had been said.

The companies formed up into the regiment on the parade ground, the
Colonel mounted his horse, took his position on the right flank, and
gave the momentous order:

"Attention, battalion\x97Right face\x97Forward\x97file left\x97March!"

The first wave rolled forward in the mighty avalanche of men, which was
not to be stayed until, four months later, Sherman telegraphed North the
glad message:

"Atlanta is ours, and fairly won."

As they wound around and over the hills in front, they saw the
"reserves," the "grand guard," and finally the pickets with their
reserves drawn in, packed up ready for marching, and waiting for their
regiments to come up, when they would fall-in.

"There's a h\x97l's mint of deviling, tormenting rebel cavalry out there
beyond the hills," they called out to the regiment. "Drop onto 'em, and
mash 'em. We'll be out there to help, if you need it."

"The 200th Injianny don't need no help to mash all the rebel cavalry
this side o' the brimstone lakes," Si answered proudly. "Much obliged to
you, all the same."

"Capt. McGillicuddy," commanded the Colonel, as they advanced beyond
where the picket-line had been, "deploy your company on both sides of
the road, and take the advance. Keep a couple hundred yards ahead of the
regiment."

"Hooray," said Si, "we're in the lead again, and we'll keep it till the
end o' the chapter. Co. Q, to the front and center."

They advanced noiselessly over the crest of a ridge, and the squad,
which gained a little on the rest, saw a rebel videt sitting on his
horse in the road some 200 or 300 yards away. The guns of the nervous
boys were up instantly, but Si restrained them with a motion of his
hand.

"What's the matter with him?" he asked Shorty, indicating the rebel.

"Him and his hors's wore out and asleep," answered Shorty, after a
minute's study. "Look at his head and his hoss's."

"Kin we sneak up on him and git him?" asked Si.

"Scarcely," answered Shorty. "Look over there."

A squad of rebels were riding swiftly up the road toward the videt.

"Shan't I shoot him?" asked the nervous little Pete, lifting his gun to
his face.

"No, no; give him a show for his life," answered Shorty, laying his hand
on Pete's gun.

"It'd be murder to shoot him now. Gi' me your gun, Pete. Run down the
road there apiece, and hit him or his horse with a stone and wake him
up."

The boys, to whom a rebel was a savage wolf, to be killed any way that
he could be caught, looked wonderingly at Si, who responded by a nod of
approval.

"Won't he chop me with his sword?" asked Pete, still full of the terrors
of that weapon.

"We'll look out for that. Go ahead, quick, Pete," said Si.

Poor little Pete, looking as if he was being sent to lead a forlorn
hope, rushed frantically forward, picking up a stone as he ran, and
hurled it with a true aim squarely against the rebel's breast, who woke
with a start, clutched his carbine, and stared around, while little Pete
dashed into the brush to avoid his dreaded saber.

"Look out for yourself, reb. We're a-coming," shouted Si.

The rebel whirled his horse about, fired his carbine into the air, and
sped back to his friends, while the squad rushed forward and took
position behind trees. The rebels came plunging on.

"Fire!" shouted Si.

The guns of the squad crashed almost together. The bullets seemed to
strike near, but without taking effect on any one of the rebels, who
seemed to catch sight of the rest of Co. Q coming over the crest. They
whirled their horses around, and started back on a sharp trot, while the
boys were reloading.

"Go ahead. Sergeant," shouted Capt. McGillicuddy, from the rear. "Follow
them up. We're right behind you. Push them back on their reserves."

"All right, Cap. Back they go," shouted Si, leading forward his squad in
a heavy-footed run down the road. They soon came to an opening of
somewhat level ground, made by the clearing around a cabin.

The rebel squad halted beyond the cornfields, turned about, and opened
fire.

"Holy smoke, look there," gasped Monty Scruggs, as a company of rebel
cavalry came tearing over the hill in front, to the assistance of their
comrades.

"Them ain't many for cavalry," said Shorty, as he and Si deployed the
boys behind fence-corners, and instructed them to shoot carefully and
low.

"Sargint, see there, and there," shouted Alf Russell, as other companies
of rebels came galloping through over the crest, while the first
arrivals began throwing down the fences, preparatory to a charge.

"Yes, there's about a rijimint," Si answered coolly. "We'll need the
most o' Co. Q to 'tend to them. Here they come."

"Sergeant, what's all this disturbance you're kicking up in camp?" said
Capt. McGillicuddy playfully, as he deployed Co. Q. "Can't you take a
quiet walk out into the country, without stirring up the whole
neighborhood?"

"They seem to've bin at home and expectin' us, Capt," grinned Si, as he
pointed to the augmenting swarm of horsemen.

"There does seem to be a tolerably full house," answered the Captain
with a shrug. "Well, the more the merrier. Boys, shoot down those
fellows who're tearing down the fences. That'll stop any rush on us, and
we'll develop their force."

"It's developing itself purty fast, seems to me. There comes another
rijimint," remarked Si.

The firing grew pretty noisy.

Si was delighted to see how naturally his boys took to their work. After
the first flurry of excitement at confronting the yelling, galloping
horde, they crouched down behind their fence-corners, and loaded and
fired as deliberately as the older men.

"What sort of a breach of the peace is this you are committing, Capt.
McGillicuddy?" asked Col. McBiddle, coming up at the head of the 200th
Ind. "And do you want some accomplices?"

"I believe if you'll give me another company I can make a rush across
there and scatter those fellows," answered the Captain.

"All right. Take Co. A. Push them as far as you can, for the orders are
to develop their strength at once. I'll follow close behind and help you
develop, if you need me."

An instant later the two companies rushed across the field, making a
bewildering transformation in the rebels' minds from charging to being
charged. The rebels were caught before they could complete their
formation. There was a brief tumult of rushes and shots and yells, and
they were pushed back through the woods, with some losses In killed and
wounded and stampeded horses.

Si had led his squad straight across the field, against a group engaged
in pulling down the fence. They were caught without their arms, and two
were run down and captured. Palpitating with success, the boys rushed
over to where the regiment was gathering itself together at the edge of
the woods on the brow of the ridge.

"Why don't they go ahead? What're they stoppin' for? The whole
rijimint's up," Si asked, with a premonition of something wrong.

"Well, I should say there was something to stop for," answered Shorty,
as they arrived where they could see, and found the whole country in
front swarming with rebel cavalry as far as their eyes could reach.

"Great Scott," muttered Si, with troubled face, for the sight was
appalling. "Is the whole Confederacy out there on hossback?"

"O, my, do we have to fight all them?" whimpered little Pete, scared as
much by the look on Shorty's face as at the array.

"Shut up, Pete," said Shorty petulantly, as a shell from a rebel battery
shrieked through the woods with a frightful noise. "Git behind this
stump here, and lay your gun across it. I'll stand beside you. Don't
shoot till you've a bead on a man. Keep quiet and listen to orders."

A rebel brigade was rapidly preparing to charge. It stretched out far
beyond the flanks of the regiment.

"Steady, men! Keep cool!" rang out the clear, calm voice of the Colonel.
"Don't fire till they come to that little run in the field, and then
blow out the center of that gang."

The brigade swept forward with a terrific yell. Si walked behind his
squad, and saw that every muzzle was depressed to the proper level.

The brigade came on grandly, until they reached the rivulet, and then a
scorching blast broke out from the muzzles of the 200th Ind., which made
them reel and halt.

Yells of "Close up, Alabamians!" "This way, Tennesseeans!" "Form on your
colors, Georgians!" came from the rebels as the boys reloaded. Then all
sounds were drowned in the rattling musketry, as the rebels began a hot
fire from their saddles, in answer to the Union musketry.

"Captain, they are moving out a brigade on either flank to take us in
the rear," said Col. McBiddle calmly to Capt. McGillicuddy. "We'll have
to fall back to the brigade. Pass the word along to retire slowly,
firing as we go. The brigade must be near. You had better move your
company over toward the right, to meet any attack that may come from
that direction. I'll send Co. A toward the other flank."

It was a perilous movement to make in front of such overwhelming force.
But the smoke curtained the manuver and the rebels only discovered it by
the diminution of the fire in their front. Then they and the flanking
brigades came on with ringing yells, and it seemed that the regiment was
to be swept off the face of the earth. The 200th Ind. was not to be
scared by yells, however, and sent such a galling fire from front and
flanks, that the rebel advance lost its rushing impetus. The regiment
was reaching the edge of the woods. The clear fields would give the
rebel cavalry its chance.

The whole command advanced, the moment the rebels began to break under
the fire, across the fields and through the woods to the crest where the
200th Ind. had first tried to stop the swarming rebel horsemen. From
there they could see the broad plain rapidly vacated by their enemies,
hurrying away from the pursuing shells.

The Colonel's clear, penetrating tones rang above the tumult:

"Attention, 200th Ind.! Every man for himself across the fields. Rally
on the fence beyond."

Shorty, whose face had been scratched by a bullet, took little Pete by
the hand. "Now, run for it, my boy, as you never run before in your
life. Hold on to your gun."

There was a wild rush, through a torrent of bullets, across the cleared
space, and as he jumped the fence, Si was rejoiced to see his squad all
following him, with Shorty dragging little Pete in the rear.

They had scarcely struck the ground beyond, when it shook with the crash
of artillery on the knoll above, and six charges of double canister tore
wickedly into the surging mass of rebel cavalry.

"The Double Canister Battery got up jest in the nick o' time," gasped
Shorty, as he shoved little Pete down behind a big log. "It generally
does, though."

"I'm glad the brigade wasn't a mile off," puffed Si, listening with
satisfaction to the long line of rifles singing tenor to the heavy bass
of the cannon.

"Capt. McGillicuddy," said the Colonel, "I ordered you to develop the
enemy's strength. Has it occurred to you that you somewhat overdid the
thing?"



CHAPTER XIV. THE EVENING AFTER THE BATTLE.

"GREAT Jehosephat, how hungry I am," suddenly ejaculated Shorty,
stopping his cheering, as the thunder of the guns died away into an
occasional shot after the rebels galloping back to the distant woods on
the ridge from which they had emerged.

"I must make some coffee. Wonder where I put my matches?"

"Here, Pete," continued Shorty, as he broke off some splinters from the
rails and started a little fire, "take my canteen and Si's and yours,
and run down there and find a spring, and fill 'em, before the others
make a rush. Be spry about it, for there'll be a rush there in a minute,
and you won't have no chance."

The excited boy had to be spoken to a second time before he would come
back to earth, much less comprehend the want of water and food. Like the
rest of his companions, the terrific drama which had just been enacted
had wrought him to a delirium, in which he could think of nothing but a
world full of bellowing cannon, and a nightmare of careering, plunging
horses, with savagely-yelling riders.

They could not realize that the battlecloud had rolled away just as
suddenly as it had burst upon them, and they stood there tightly
grasping their reloaded guns, and staring fixedly into the distance for
the next horrid development.

"I think you'll find a spring right over there where you see that bunch
o' young willers, Pete," said Si, handing him his canteen. "Break for
it, before anybody else gets there and muddies the water."

But Pete still stood rigid and unhearing, clutching his gun with a
desperate grip, and glaring with bulging, unmoving eyes across the
plain.

"Come, wake up, Pete," said Shorty, giving him a sharp shake. "Do as I
tell you, and on the jump. The fight's over."

"The fight's over?" stammered the boy. "Ain't they coming back again?"

"Not on their butternut-dyed lives they ain't," said Shorty scornfully.
"They've got their dirty hides as full o' lickin' as they kin hold for
one day. They'll set around for a while, and rub their hurts, and try to
think out jest how it all happened."

"Skip out, Pete," Si reminded the boy. "The rest o' you boys stack your
guns and foller Pete."

"Hadn't we batter take our guns along?" suggested Monty, holding on to
his with grim fearfulness.

"No. Stack 'em; stack 'em, I tell you," said Si impatiently. "And be
quick about it. They'll all git ahead o' you. Don't you see the rest
stackin' arms?"

The boys obeyed as if dazed, and started to follow little Pete's lead
toward the clump of willows.

The boy, full of the old nick, found an Orderly's horse nipping the
grass close by the path to the spring and, boy like, jumped on its back.
The clatter of the canteens frightened the horse, and he broke into a
dead run.

Little Pete's Horse Bolts. 169

"Do ye s'pose the fight's really over?" whispered Pete to Alf Russell,
who was just behind him. "Don't you think the rebels just let go to get
a fresh hold?"

"Seems so to me," answered Alf. "Seems to me there was just millions of
'em, and we only got away with a little passel, in spite of all that
shootin'. Why, when we come out on the ridge the valley down there
seemed fuller of 'em than it was at first."

"We oughtn't to get too far away from our guns," said Monty Scruggs.
"Them woods right over there may be full o' rebels watching to jump us
when we get far enough away."

"I don't like the looks of that hill to the left," said Gid Mackall,
nervously. "An awful lot o' them went behind it, and I didn't see any
come out."

"There, them bushes over there are shaking\x97they're coming out again,"
said Harry Joslyn, turning to run back for his gun.

"No, not there," nervously interjected Humphrey's, turning with him;
"ain't there something stirring down there by the crick?"

"No, no," said Sandy Baker, desperately. "It's just that blame fool
Pete. Come on! Come on! We've got to. We were ordered to. Le's make a
rush for it, like the men in the Indian stories done when they was sent
for water."

They acted on the suggestion with such vim that when Pete's horse
tripped at the edge of the little run, and sent Pete over its head with
a splash into the mud and water, the rest tumbled and piled on top of
him.

The men on the hill, who had noticed it, set up a yell of laughter,
which scared the boys worse than ever, for they thought it meant the
rebels were on them again.

"Now, what new conniption's struck them dumbed little colts?" said Si,
irritably, as he strode down to them, pulled them out, and set them on
their feet, with a shaking and some strong words.

"Is the rebels coming again?" gasped Pete, rubbing the mud and water out
of his eyes.

"No, you little fool," said Si. "The rebels ain't comin'. They're goin'
as fast as their horses kin carry 'em. They've got through comin' for
today.

"There ain't one of 'em within cannon-shot, and won't be till we go out
and hunt 'em up again. You've come near spilin' the spring with your
tormented foolishness. What on earth possessed you to climb that boss?
You need half killin', you do. Go up higher there and fill your canteens
from where the water's clear. Be slow and careful, and don't rile the
water. Say, I see some nice sassafras over there. I always drink
sassafras tea this time o' year. It cleans the blood. I'm goin' over and
see if I can't git a good root while you're fillin' your canteens."

Si walked out some distance in front of them, pulling as he walked some
of the tender, fragrant, spicy young leaves of the sassafras, and
chewing them with gusto. Arriving at the top of a rise he selected a
young shrub, pulled it up, carefully loosed its root from the mulchy
soil, and cut it off with his knife. His careless deliberation calmed
the overwrought nerves of the boys, and when he returned they had their
canteens filled, and walked back composedly to the fires, when they
suddenly remembered that they were as hungry as Si and Shorty, and fell
to work cooking their suppers.

"Is that the way with the rebel cavalry?" asked Monty Scruggs, with his
mouthful of crackers and meat. "Do they come like a hurricane, and
disappear again like an April shower?"

"That's about it," answered Shorty disdainfully. "That's the way with
all cavalry, dad-burn 'em. They're like a passel o' fice pups. They're
all yelp and bark, and howl and showin' o' teeth. They're jest goin' to
tear you to pieces. But when you pick up a stone or a club, or git ready
to give 'em a good kick they're gone, the devil knows where. They're
only an aggravation. You never kin do nothin' with 'em, and they kin do
nothin' with you. I never kin understand why God Almighty wasted his
time in makin' cavalry of any kind, Yank or rebel. All our own cavalry's
good for is to steal whisky and chickens from honest soldiers of the
infantry. The infantry's the only thing. It's like the big dog that
comes up without any special remarks, and sets his teeth in the other
dog. The thing only ends when one dog or the other is badly whipped and
somethin's bin accomplished."

"Will we have to fight them cavalry again tomorrow jest the same way?"
asked little Pete, still somewhat nervously.

"Lord only knows," answered Shorty indifferently, feeling around for his
pipe. "A feller never knows when he's goin' to have to fight rebel
cavalry any more'n he knows when he's goin' to have the toothache. The
thing just happens, and that's all there is of it."

Si and Shorty, having finished their suppers, lighted their pipes, and
strolled up through the regiment to talk over with the others the events
of the day and the probabilities of the morrow.

Left alone, the tongues of the excited boys became loosened, and ran
like the vibrations of a cicada's rattle.

"Wasn't it just wonderful?" said Monty Scruggs. "It looked as if a
million circuses had suddenly let out over there.

"'The Assyrians came down like a wolf on the fold, And their cohorts
were gleaming with purple and gold.'

"Only there didn't seem much purple and gold about them. Seemed mostly
brown rags and slouch hats and long swords. Gracious, did you ever see
anything as long and wicked as them swords! Seemed that every one was
pointing directly at me, and they'd reach me the very next jump."

"Of course, you thought they were all looking at you," said Alf Russell.
"That's your idea, always, wherever you are. You think you're spouting
on the platform, and the center of attraction. But I knew that they were
all looking at me, as folks generally do."

"More self-conceit," sneered Harry Joslyn. "Just because you're so good
looking, Alf. I knew that they weren't bothering about any boy orator,
who does most of his shooting with his mouth, nor any young pill-
peddler, who sings in the choir, and goes home with the prettiest girl.
They were making a dead set on the best shot in the crowd, the young
feller who'd come into the war for business, and told his folks at home
before he started that he was going to shoot Jeff Davis with his own
hand before he got back. That was me, I saw the Colonel of one o' the
regiments point his sword straight at me as they came across the run,
and tell his men to be sure and get me of all others."

"Why didn't you shoot him, if you're such a deadshot?" asked Gid
Mackall.

"Why, I was just loading my gun, when I saw him, and as I went to put on
the cap you were shaking so that it jarred the cap out of my hand, and
before I could get another, the smoke became so thick I couldn't see
anything."

"I shaking?" said Gib, with deep anger. "Now, Harry Josyn\x97"

"Come, boys; don't have a scrap, now," pleaded the serious-minded Alf.
"Just think how many dead men are lying around. It looks like raising a
disturbance at a funeral."

"That's so," said Jake Humphreys. "I don't think any of us is in shape
to throw up anything to another about shaking. I own up that I was never
so scared in all my life, and I feel now as if I ought to get down on my
knees before everybody, and thank God Almighty that my life was spared.
I ain't ashamed to say so."

"Bully for you, Jake," said Monty Scruggs, heartily. "We all feel that
way, but hain't the nerve to say so. I wish the Chaplain would come
around and open a meeting of thanksgiving and prayer."

"I tell you what's the next best thing," suggested Jake Humphreys. "Let
Alf Russell sing one of those good old hymns they used to sing in the
meetings back at home."

"Home!" How many thousands of miles away\x97how many years of time
away\x97seemed to those flushed, overwrought boys, bivouacking on the
deadstrewn battlefield, the pleasant cornfields, the blooming orchards,
the drowsy hum of bees, the dear homes, sheltering fathers, mothers, and
sisters; the plain white churches, with their faithful, grayhaired
pastors, of the fertile plains of Indiana.

Alf Russell lifted up his clear, far-reaching boyish tenor, that they
had heard a thousand times at devout gatherings, at joyful weddings, at
sorrowing funerals, in that grandest and sweetest of hymns:

"All hail the power of Jesus' name; Let angels prostrate fall. Bring
forth the royal-diadem. And crown Him Lord of All."

As far as his voice could reach, the rough soldiers, officers and men,
stopped to listen to him\x97listened to him with emotions far too deep for
the cheers that usually fly to the lips of soldiers at anything that
stirs them. The higher officers quit talking of the plans of the morrow;
the minor ones stopped, pen in hand, over their reports and
requisitions; the busy Surgeons stayed their keen knives; the fussy
Orderly-Sergeants quit bothering about rations and details; the men
paused, looked up from their cards and cooking until the hymn was sung
through.

The voice was so pure, so fresh, so redolent of all that had graced and
sweetened their far-off past, that it brought to each swarming emotions
for which there was no tongue.

"Bully for you, Alf; you're a sweet singer in Israel," said Si, brushing
away a suspicion of a tear. "Spread out your blankets, boys, and lay
down. Git all the sleep you kin, for there's lots o' work for us
tomorrow. There goes tattoo!"



CHAPTER XV THE FIGHTING AROUND BUZZARD ROOST AND CAPTURE OF THE REBEL
STRONGHOLD.

FOR the next few days there was a puzzling maze of movements, which must
have completely mystified the rebel Generals\x97as was intended\x97for it
certainly passed the comprehension of our own keen-eyed and shrewdly-
guessing rank-and-file and lower oflficers.

Regiments, brigades and divisions marched hither-and-yon, wound around
and over the hills and mountains, started out at a great rate in the
morning, marched some distance, halted apparently halfway, and then
perhaps went back. Skirmishing, that sometimes rose to the proportions
of a real battle, broke out at unexpected times and places, and as
unexpectedly ended. Batteries galloped into position, without much
apparent warning or reason, viciously shelled some distant point, and
then, as the infantry were girding up themselves for something real to
follow all the noise, stopped as abruptly as they had begun, and nothing
followed.

This went on so long, and apparently so purposelessly, that even the
constant Si and Shorty were shaken a little by it.

"It can't be," said Shorty to Si, one evening after they had gone into
bivouac, and the two had drawn away from the boys a little, to talk over
things by themselves, "that old Sherman's got one o' his crazy fits
again, can it? They say that sometimes he gits crazier 'n a March hare,
and nobody kin tell just when the fit'll come on him. I never did see so
much criss cross work as we've bin doin' for the last few days. I can't
make head nor tail of it, and can't find anybody else that kin."

"I can't make it out no more than you kin," assented Si. "And I've
thought o' that crazy idee, too. You know them boys over there in
Rousseau's old division was under Sherman once before, when he was in
command at Louisville, and they say that he got crazier'n a locoed
steer\x97actually looney, so's they had to relieve him and send him back
home to git cured. They'd be really scared about things, but their
officers heard old Pap Thomas say that things wuz goin' along all right,
and that satisfied 'em. I ain't goin' to worry so long's old Thomas is
in command o' the Army o' the Cumberland, and we're in it. He'll take
care that things come out straight."

"You bet," heartily agreed Shorty. "The Army o' the Cumberland'll be all
right as long as he's on deck, and he kin take care o' the other armies,
too, if they git into trouble. I struck some o' the Army o' the
Tennessee when I went back with them prisoners today, and got talkin'
with 'em. I asked 'em if Sherman wasn't subject to crazy fits, and they
said yes, he had 'em, but when he did he made the rebels a mighty sight
crazier'n he was. They went on to say that we'd git used to Sherman
after awhile, and he'd show us some kinks in soljerin' that we never
dreamed of."

"Sich plaguey conceit," muttered Si.

"I should say so. But I never seen anybody so stuck on theirselves as
them Army o' the Tennessee fellers. Just because they took Vicksburg\x97"

"With all the navy to help 'em," interjected Si.

"Yes, with more gunboats than we have army wagons. They think they know
more about soljerin than anybody else in the world, and ackchelly want
to give us p'ints as to how to git away with the rebels."

"The idee," said Si scornfully. "Talkin' that way to the best soljers in
the world\x97the Army o' the Cumberland. I hate conceit, above all things.
I'm glad I hain't none of it in me. 'Tain't that we say it, but
everybody knows it that the Army o' the Cumberland's the best army in
the world, and the 200th Injianny\x97"

"I told 'em that the Army o' the Cumberland was the best army, because
it had the 200th Injianny in it, and, would you believe me, they said
they'd never even heard o' the 200th Injianny?"

"Sich ignorance," groaned Si. "Can't they read? Don't they git the
papers?"

"There'd bin a fight right, there, if it hadn't bin for the officers. I
wanted awfully to take a fall out of a big Sergeant who said that Thomas
might be a good enough man for Chairman of a convention o' farmers, but
when he went to war he wanted to have sich leaders as Sherman,
McPherson, and Logan, and Osterhaus. But he'll keep. We agreed to see
each other later, when we'll have a private discussion, and if he has
any head left on him he'll freely acknowledge that nobody in the Army o'
the Tennessee is fit to be named in the same day with Pap Thomas."

"Better turn him over to me, Shorty," said Si, meditatively. "I think
I'm in better shape for an argument just now than you are. You've bin
doing a good deal in the last few days, and I'm afraid you're a little
run down."

"No; he's my meat. I found him, and I'll take care o' him. But there's
just one thing that reconciles me to this business. In spite o' all this
sashayin' and monkeying we seem to be continually edgin' up closter to
them big cliffs where the rebels are, and something's got to bust purty
soon. It's jist like it was at Tullyhomy, but old Rosecrans ain't
runnin' things now."

"But Thomas is in the center, as he was then, and we're with him," said
Si hopefully. "There's tattoo, Le's crawl in."

The other boys had been affected according to their various temperaments
by the intricate and bewildering events of the past few days. The first
day or two they were all on the tenter-hooks of expectation and anxiety.
Every bugle-call seemed to be a notice for them to rush into the great
battle. Every time they saw a regiment moving, they expected to follow
and fall into line with it. They wondered why they were not sent in
after every skirmish-line they saw advancing. When a rebel battery
opened out in the distance they girded themselves in expectation of an
order to charge it. But Si and Shorty kept admonishing them that it
would be time enough for them to get excited when the 200th Ind. was
called on by name for something; that they were not expected to fight
the whole campaign, but only to do a limited part of it, and they had
better take things easy, and save themselves for their share when it
should come to them.

It was astonishing how soon they recognized this, and settled down to
more or less indifference to things that did not directly concern their
own regiment. They were just at the age to be imitative, and the example
of the veterans around them had a strongly-repressive effect.

So, after the second or third day of the turmoil of the opening
campaign, they ceased to bother themselves openly, at least, as to why
their regiment did not move when others did, as to why they did not go
to the help of others that were fighting, and as to when they were to be
summoned to make a desperate assault upon the frowning palisades of rock
which were literally alive with rebels and belching cannon.

When the regiment was lying still they occupied and amused themselves,
as did the others, according to their several bents. The medical-minded
Alf Russell watched the movements and deportment of the Surgeons at
every opportunity, and was especially interested in everything that he
could catch a glimpse of, from feeling a man's pulse to extracting a
bullet. The lathy Gid Mackall, whose appetite did not need the
sharpening it got from the free mountain air, put in much of his time
cooking, all possible variations of his rations with anything else that
he could get hold of, and devouring the product with eagerness. In spite
of Si's strict prohibition against card-playing, the sleepy headed Jim
Humphreys was rapidly, but secretly, mastering all the tricks and
mysteries of camp gambling, and becoming an object of anxiety to the
older gamesters whenever he pitted himself against them. Sandy Baker,
whose tastes ran to mechanics, "tinkered" constantly with his rifle and
equipments, studying the nature and inner workings of every part, and
considering possible improvements. Sprightly Harry Joslyn was fascinated
with the details of soldiering, and devoted himself to becoming perfect
in the manual of arms and the facings. Little Pete Skidmore was keenly
alive to all that was going on, and wanted to know everything. When he
could trust himself not to get lost from his regiment, he would scurry
over to the nearest one, to find out who they were, where they had come
from, what they had been doing, and whither they were likely to go. But
Monty Scruggs was constantly in the public eye, as he loved to be. His
passion for declamation pleased officers and men. He really declaimed
very well, and it was a reminder to them of home and the long-ago school
days to hear him "spout" the oldtime Friday afternoon favorites.

Therefore he was always called upon whenever there was nothing else to
engage the men's attention, and his self-confidence and vanity grew
rapidly upon the liberal applause bestowed on him. He was a capital
mimic, too, and daring as well, and it was not long before he began to
"take off" those around him, which his comrades enjoyed even more than
his declamations.

The llth of May, 1864, saw all the clouds of battle which had been
whirling for days in such apparently diverse directions, gathering about
the deep gorge in Rocky Face Ridge through which the railroad passed.
"Buzzard Roost," as this was named, was the impregnable citadel behind
which the rebel army had taken refuge after its rout at Mission Ridge
the previous November, and the rebel engineers had since exhausted every
effort to make it still more unassailable. The lofty mountain rose
precipitously for hundreds of feet on either side the narrow gorge, and
the last hundred feet was a sheer wall of perpendicular rock. The creek
which ran through the gorge had been dammed, so that its waters formed a
broad, deep moat before the mouth of the gorge. The top of the ridge
swarmed with men, and to the rear of the gorge guns were massed in
emplacements to sweep every foot of the passage.

It seemed madness to even think of forcing such a pass. A thousand men
in the shelters of that fastness could beat back myriads, and it was
known that Joe Johnston had at least 50,000 behind the Ridge. Yet
Sherman was converging great rivers of men from the north, the northwest
and west down upon that narrow gap, as if he meant to move the eternal
rocks by a freshet of human force.

The rebels thrown out in advance of the gorge, on outlying hills, rocks
and cliffs, were swept backward and into the gap by the resistless wave
of blue rolling forward, fiery and thundering, gathering force and
vehemence as it converged into a shortening semi-circle about the rugged
stronghold.

The 200th Ind. moved forward and took its place in the line on a hill
commanding a view of the entrance to the gorge, and there waited its
orders for the general advance, which seemed imminent any instant.

For miles to the right and left the woods were crackling with musketry,
interspersed with the booming of fieldpieces.

The regiment had stacked arms and broken ranks.

For an hour or two the men had studied with intense eagerness the
bristling fortifications of the gap and the swarming foemen at the foot
of and on the summit of the high walls of rock. They had listened
anxiously to the firing to the right and left, and tried to make out
what success their comrades on other parts of the long crescent were
having. They had watched the faces of the officers to read there how the
battle was going.

But one after another found this tiresome after awhile and set himself
to his usual camp employments and diversions. Some got out needles and
thread, and began repairing their clothes. Some gathered in groups and
smoked and talked. Many produced the eternal cards, folded up a blanket
for a table, and resumed their endless sevenup and euchre or poker for
buttons and grains of corn. Jim Humphreys found his way into one of
these games, which was played behind a clump of bushes, and the buttons
represented dimes. He was accumulating fractional currency. Gid Mackall
embraced the opportunity to cook for himself a savory stew with some
onions distributed by the Sanitary Commission. Sandy Baker went over his
gun, saw that every screw was properly tight, and dropped the tiniest
amount of oil on the trigger and the hammer, to ease their working. Pete
Skidmore wandered down to the flank of the next regiment to find out if
anything new had occurred. Harry Joslyn got himself into the exact
"position of a soldier," with his heels together, his toes pointed at an
angle of 45 degrees, and went through the manual of the piece endlessly.
Si and the Orderly-Sergeant communed together about the rations for the
company, and the various troubles there was always on the Orderly's mind
about the company's management. Shorty got off by himself, produced from
his breast his mementoes of Maria, and read over her last letter for the
thousandth time, though he knew every word in it. But he seemed to get a
new and deeper meaning every time he read it.

Groups of officers would come up to a little rise in front, study the
distant ridge with their glasses for awhile, and then ride away.

A couple of natty young Aids followed their superiors' example, rode up,
dismounted, and studied the enemy's position with great dignity and
earnestness, that it might have full effect upon the brigade behind
them.

Monty Scruggs saw his opportunity. He bound some tin cans together to
represent field glasses, mounted a stump, and began intently studying
Buzzard Roost.

This attracted the attention of the others.

"What do you see, Monty?" they shouted.

"See?" answered he. "Just lots and gobs. I see old Joe Johnston over
there, with Pat Cleburne, and Hood and Bragg, and Joe Wheeler. They're
all together, and pulling off their coats, and rolling up their sleeves,
and shaking their fists at the 200th Ind., and daring it to come on."

Capture of Rebel Stronghold. 185

"Tell 'em not to sweat. Just hold their horses. We'll be over
presently," shouted the others, with yells of laughter. "What else do
you see?"

The young Aids turned around and glanced angrily at Monty and the
laughing crowd.

"I see old Jeff Davis there, with his Cabinet of traitors. He's writing
a fresh proclamation to his people, with his blind eye, and has got his
good one fixed on the 200th Ind., which he's telling Joe Johnston is
bound to give him more trouble than all the rest o' the army."

"Good! Good!" yelled the rest. "So we will. Old Jeff's right for once.
What else do you see?"

"Stop that, my man," said one of the Aids savagely. "You're disturbing
us."

"Go ahead, and don't mind 'em," shouted the others. "They're only Second
Lieutenants any way. Tell us what you see."

"I see way by Richmond, old Unconditional Surrender Grant's got Bob Lee
by the throat, and's just wipin' up the State of Virginny with him.
Lee's eyes is bulging out like gooseberries on a limb, and his tongue's
hanging down like a dog's on a hot day\x97"

"Get down off that stump at once, and go back to your place," said the
Aid authoritatively.

"Don't mind him. He's only a staff officer. He can't order you. Go
ahead," shouted the rest.

"I see a couple o' young Second Lieutenants," started Monty, but the Aid
sprang at him, and in an instant there was a rush of the other boys to
defend him. Capt. McGillicuddy, who was usually conveniently deaf and
blind to the boys' skylarking, looked up from the paper he was reading,
hurried to the scene, quieted the disturbance, ordered Monty to get down
and go back, and spoke sharply to the Aid about paying any attention to
the men's harmless capers.

The bugle blew "Attention," and everybody sprang to his place, and
waited eagerly for the next command.

"Men," said the Colonel, in his gentle, sweet voice, which, however, was
distinctly audible to the farthest flank of the regiment, "we are
ordered to help our comrades by attacking the mountain over there. You
see what is before you, and that it will be terrible work, but I know
that you will do all that you can do for the honor of dear old Indiana."

An enthusiastic cheer answered him.

"Battalion\x97Take\x97Arms!" commanded the Colonel. "Right face\x97Forward\x97File
left\x97March!"

The regiment filed down through the woods on the hillside, and as it
came into the opening at the bottom was greeted by a volley from a
battery on Rocky Face Ridge. The shells screamed viciously over the
heads of the men, and cut through the tops of the trees with a deafening
crash.

"Wastin' good cast-iron on the landscape, as usual," laughed Shorty, to
encourage the boys. "I always wonder how the rebels pick out the fellers
they make cannoneers of. When they git hold of a feller who can't shoot
so's to hit anything less'n a Township set up edgewise, they put him in
the artillery."

"Mebbe they'll come closter next time," said little Pete with a shiver,
as he trotted a little nearer Shorty.

"Naah, they'll never come no closter," said Shorty, contemptuously.
"They couldn't hit even the side o' the mountain if it wasn't in their
way and no place else for the ball to go."

Just then a shell screamed so close above Shorty that he involuntarily
ducked his head.

"What makes you juke, if they can't hit nothing?" inquired little Pete,
and the rest of them had regained composure enough to laugh.

"O," said Shorty composedly, "that feller wasn't shootin' at me. He was
shootin' at the 1st Oshkosh, which is a quarter of a mile behind. If
he'd hit me it'd 'a bin an accident, and I don't want no accidents to
happen just now."

Approaching the cleared space in the center of the valley, the regiment
went into line in the brush and pushed through to the edge of the woods.
The moment that it appeared in the fringe of brushwood a sharp volley
came from the line of rebels in the brush along the opposite side of the
clearing. Evidently they were not expecting an advance at that moment,
for their firing was wild, and wounded but a few men.

"Hold your fire till we are across," shouted the Colonel. "Forward\x97Guide
center\x97Double-quick\x97March!"

With a yell the regiment swept across the clearing into the brush
beyond. A furious, noisy scrambling ensued in the thickets. Neither side
could see 10 yards ahead, and the firing, though fierce and rapid, was
not very effective. Men shot at sounds, or motions of the bushes, and
the bullets, glancing on the limbs, whistled in all directions. But the
200th Ind. pressed furiously forward, and though the rebels resisted
stubbornly they were gradually pressed back up the hill. Occasionally
one was killed, many were wounded, and squads were caught in clumps of
brush and compelled to surrender. Si and Shorty kept their boys in hand,
on the left of Co. Q, restrained them from firing until they saw
something to shoot at, and saw that they did not advance until their
guns were loaded. They heard a crashing volley delivered on their right
front, and springing swiftly in that direction, came to a little break,
across which they saw a squad of 15 or 16 rebels under the command of a
Captain, with their guns still smoking, and peering into the woods to
see the result of their fire. Si rushed at the Captain, with leveled
gun, and ordered him to surrender.

"Are you an officer?" said the startled Captain as soon as he could gain
words. "I'm a Captain. I'll not surrender to any one under my rank."

"I'm Captain enough for you," answered Si, thrusting the muzzle of his
gun close to his face. "Surrender this minute, or off goes your head."

The Captain dropped his sword, and his men yielded.

The prisoners were conducted to the rear, and when Si returned with his
squad to the regiment he found it had forced its way to the foot of the
high wall of rock that rose straight up from the slope.

The rebels on the crest, 100 feet above, had been trying to assist their
comrades below, by firing with their muskets, and occasionally sending a
shell, where they could get their howitzers sufficiently depressed. Now
they had bethought themselves to roll rocks and heavy stones off the
crest, which fell with a crash on the treetops below.

The 200th Ind. was raging along the foot of the wall, trying to find a
cleft in it by which they could climb to the top and get at their foes.
Standing a few yards in the rear, under a gigantic white-oak, whose
thick branches promised protection from the crashing bowlders, the
Colonel was sending parties to explore every place that seemed hopeful,
and report to him. When Si came up with his squad he was directed to go
to the extreme left, and see what he could find.

He did so, and came to a little open space made by the washings which
poured over the crest of the rock when the rain descended in torrents.
There was a cleft there, but it was 40 feet above them, and surrounded
by rebels, who yelled at the sight of his squad, and sent down a volley
of bowlders. Si and his squad promptly dodged these by getting behind
trunks of trees. They fired at the rebels on the crest, who as promptly
lay down and sheltered themselves.

The firing and stone-throwing lasted an hour or more, and then seemed to
die down from sheer exhaustion.

As the stones begun to come down more fitfully, and at longer intervals.
Shorty shouted to those on top:

"Say, you fellers up there, ain't you gittin' tired o' that work? You
ain't hurtin' nobody with them dornicks. We kin dodge 'em easy, and
you're just strainin' yourselves for nothin'. Let up for awhile, till we
both rest and git a fresh hold. We'll amuse you if you will."

"What'll you do?" asked one of the rebels, peering over the crest.

"Lots o' things. I'll turn one o' my famous doubleback-action flip-
flaps, which people have come miles to see, when I was traveling with
Dan Rice. Or we'll sing you a song. We've here the World Renowned
Ballad-Singer of Bean Blossom Crick. Or we'll make you a speech. We have
here the Justly-Famous Boy Orator of Pogue's Run."

Everything had become quite still all around during this dialog.

"Give us a song," said the rebel, and his comrades' heads began showing
over the edge of the rock.

"Now, no rock-throwing and no shootin' while he's singing'," said
Shorty. "Give the boy a chance to git back to his tree after he's done."

"All right. We'll play fair. But no politics," came back from the rock.

"Go out there, Alf, on the gravel, and sing to 'em," said Shorty.

Alf Russell hesitated a moment, and then climbed up on the pile of
washings and after clearing his throat, sang "When This Cruel War is
Over" in his best style, and was applauded from the top of the rock and
below.

"Now, give us your speech. But no politics," the rebels shouted.

Monty Scruggs stepped up on the mound and recited "Bingen on the Rhine"
in his best school-exhibition style. The delight of the rebels was
boundless.

"Hip-hip\x97Hooray! Good! Good!" they shouted. "Give us another."

Monty scratched his head to think of something appropriate, and then
occurred to him Webster's great speech in defense of the Union, which
was then a favorite in the schools.

"When my eyes shall be turned to behold for the last time the sun in
heaven, may I not see him shining on the broken and dishonored fragments
of a once glorious Union; on States dissevered, discordant, belligerent;
on a land rent with civil feuds, or drenched, it may be, with fraternal
blood. Liberty and Union, now and forever, one and inseparable."

The rebels listened with growing impatience to the words, and as Monty
concluded with his best flourish they yelled angrily:

"Heah, we told you no politics. Git back thar, now, quick, or we'll bust
your haid with this heah rock."

Shorty and Si raised their guns to shoot the man with the bowlder, and
Monty skipped back to the shelter of his tree, saying with a grin:

"I was bound to give 'em a little straight goods before I quit, and they
got it. Old Dan Webster's very words."

"The orders is to stay right here for the night," said the Orderly-
Sergeant, coming up through the brush to Si, "and be ready for anything
that comes. I don't know what old Sherman means\x97whether he is going to
send over some balloons to lift us to the top of the rocks, or set us to
tunneling through. I suppose it ain't my business to know. I've got
enough to do running this company. But something's got to bust inside
the next 24 hours, and when it does there'll be the dumbedest smash this
country ever saw. Stay where you are till further orders, and make
yourselves as comfortable as possible."

The rebels on the rocks having quieted down, the boys stowed themselves
around the roots of the trees, made little fires under the shelter of
the rocks, cooked their suppers, smoked their pipes, and finally rolled
themselves in their blankets and went to sleep.

Little Pete "snugged" in with Shorty, but when that gentleman was
awakened by Si a little after daylight, Pete was gone.

Shorty fumed around at this while he was cooking his breakfast, for he
wanted Pete to be there and eat heartily, in preparation for the arduous
struggles of the momentous day which was breaking for them.

But little Pete continued to be absent. No one had seen him, no one had
heard his voice, no one know anything about him. Shorty became greatly
worried, and the others shared his feelings, and began beating up the
woods around in search of some place that he might have fallen into.

With the daybreak the firing away to the left, where a lodgment had been
made on Rocky Face Ridge, beyond the gap, broke out afresh, and rolled
down toward the gap. The squad listened intently to it as it came
nearer, for they felt that it meant the beginning of the day's bloody
business. The crests above them remained silent.

Suddenly they heard little Pete's voice calling:

"Sergeant Klegg! Corporal Elliott!"

They looked in every direction, but could see no Pete.

"Sergeant Klegg! Corporal Elliott! Look up here. I'm up here on the
rocks."

They turned their eyes to the crest, and there saw Pete waving his hat
to them.

"Come up here," he called. "There ain't no rebels up here. They've all
gone off down into the valley."

From their tense hearts the boys sent up a cheer, which drew all
attention to them. The news quickly spread along the line, and was
received with cheers.

"Go down that way about 100 yards," Pete called down, "and you'll find a
tall pine blowed down agin the cliff. You kin climb that, and git up to
where its top lays right agin a bunch of bushes. Shorty rolled on my leg
this morning, and waked me up before daylight. I then thought I'd git up
and take a look, and see how things appeared before they got to
shooting. I found the pine tree, and dumb it mighty quiet, intending to
sneak up close to the rebels. But I couldn't find none. They was all
gone."



CHAPTER XVI. THE 200TH IND. ASSAULTS THE REBEL WORKS AT DAYBREAK

THERE were the same perplexing sounds of battle in many places and
directions when the 200th Ind. went into line as there had been around
Buzzard Roost.

Joe Johnston was fiercely contesting every hilltop and narrow gorge to
gain time to adjust his army to the unexpected movement through Snake
Creek Gap, and save the stores he had accumulated behind the heavy
fortifications around Dalton.

Though they had felt themselves completely worn out by the work with the
train, the prospect of a fight put new life into the 200th Ind., and
they leaned on their guns and listened to the crackling of musketry and
booming of artillery far away to their left, to their right, and
apparently in their rear. Sometimes the sounds would come so near that
the wave of battle would seem to be surely rolling down on them. Then
they would clutch their guns more firmly, and their hands instinctively
seek their cartridge-boxes. Then the firing would as inexplicably die
down and stop, when they would again sink on the ground with fatigue.

So the late afternoon wore on. It grew very quiet all around. Even the
dull booming of the cannon far up the valley where Howard and Schofield
were advancing on the heavy works immediately in front of Dalton, died
down into sullen fitfulness.

The silence of the woods and the mountains as night drew on became more
oppressive than the crashing sounds, the feverish movements, and the
strained expectancy of the day had been.

The whip-poor-wills began to fill the evening air with their mournful
calls, which accentuated and intensified the weird loneliness of the
scene, where but a little while before there had been no thought but of
deadly hatred and bitter strife.

"I never heard the whip-poor-wills whip so gloomily," remarked the
sentimental Alf Russell, after the regiment had stacked arms, and the
men were resting, exhausted and out of temper, on the ground. "Seems to
me it sounds altogether different from the way they do at home; got
something savage in it."

"Probably they're yelling their satisfaction over the number of men
they've seen killed and wounded today," ventured Monty Scruggs. "Does
'em good to see men shooting at one another instead of birds."

"Dumbed little brutes," grumbled Shorty, nursing his hurt foot, "if
they'd bin wrastlin' all day with a mule train they'd be too tired to go
yellin' around like that. I always did hate a whip-poor-will, anyway.
They hain't got sense enough to do anything but yell, jest like a pasel
o' rebel cavalry."

"Great Scott! I wisht I knowed whether we're goin' to stay here
tonight," said Si, handling his blanket roll with a look of
anticipation.

"No," said the Orderly, coming down from the right of the regiment.
"We're to move forward about a mile, and establish a line for the rest
of the brigade to form on. We're to go quietly, without noise or
commands, and then bivouac without fires. Get your guns and fall in
quietly."

As ill-tempered as tired, the boys roused up from the ground, and began
taking their guns from the stacks. Harry Joslin snatched his out first,
and the stack, falling over, the bayonet points struck Gid Mackall's
face. The angry Gid responded with a blow landed on the side of Harry's
head. In an instant the two clinched, and the others, who were in no
better humor, began striking at one another in blind temper. Si and
Shorty snatched the two principals apart with a good deal of violence
and much show of their own tempers.

"You long legged sand hill crane," said Si, shaking Gid. "Will you
always be kickin' up a rumpus? I'll break your neck if you don't act
better."

"You senseless little bantam," said Shorty, with his grip on Harry's
throat; "will you always be raising a ruction? Will I have to wring your
neck to learn you to behave?"

"Let him alone, Shorty," said Si irritably. "He ain't to blame. This
gangling fly-up the crick started it." And he gave Gid another shake.

"You let him alone. Si," said Shorty crossly. "I know better. This whelp
started it, as he always does. I'll throw him down and tramp on him."

"You won't do nothin' o' the kind. Shorty. Don't you contradict me. Let
him go, I tell you."

"You take your hands off that boy, or I'll make you, Si Klegg," said
Shorty hotly. "I won't see you imposin' on somebody's that's smaller'n
you."

The spectacle of the two partners quarreling startled them all. They
stopped and looked aghast.

"Here, what's all this disorder here," said the Orderly, coming up,
impetuously, and as cross as any one. "Why don't you get into line as
ordered? Sergeant Klegg, you're always making trouble for me."

"I ain't doin' nothing o' the kind. What's the sense o' your sayin' sich
a thing?" Si retorted. "You know it ain't true."

"Si Klegg, be careful how you call me a liar," answered the Orderly.
"I'll\x97"

"What in the world does all this mean?" said Capt. McGillicuddy angrily,
as he stepped back to them. "What are you wasting time squabbling before
the men for? Fall into your places at once, and don't let me hear
another word from any of you. Don't you see the regiment is moving?"

"We'll finish this later," the Orderly whispered to Si, as he went to
his place on the right.

"I'll settle with you, Shorty, when I have more time," Si remarked as he
took his place.

"The sooner the better," grunted Shorty. "You can't run over me, if you
are a Sergeant."

The wearied men went stumbling along the rough road for what seemed the
longest mile ever known. It had grown very dark. At last a form
separated itself from the bank of blackness on the left, and a voice
said in a penetrating whisper:

"Is this the 200th Ind?"

"Yes," answered the Colonel.

"I'm Lieut. Snowden, of the General's staff," said the whisper.

"Yes; I recognize your voice," answered the Colonel.

"I was sent here," continued the Whisper, "to post you when you came up.
You will make this your right, and form out there to the left. Do it
without the slightest noise. There is a strong force of rebels out there
in front. They have a line of works with abatis in front, and a fort on
the hill there to the right, as you can see by looking up against the
sky. You will not allow any fires to be made or lights to be shown. The
other regiments will come up and form on your right and left, and you
will be ready to attack and carry the line immediately in front of you
the moment that it is light enough to see to move. The signal will be
given by the headquarters bugle."

"Very good," replied the Colonel. "Tell the General that we'll be ready,
and he'll find us inside the rebel line five minutes after the bugle
sounds."

"In the meanwhile," continue the Aid, "you will keep a sharp lookout.
You may be attacked, and if you see signs of evacuation you are to
attack, and the other regiments will support you. The General will come
up later and give you further instructions. Good night."

The men nearest the Colonel heard plainly all that was said, and it was
soon known throughout the regiment. The men seemed to forget their
fatigue as they moved alertly but warily into line to the left, and
studied intently the sky-line of the rising ground in front.

The whip-poor-wills were still calling, but at the flanks and rear of
the regiment. None of them called in front.

"It's full o' rebels over there; that's the reason," said Si to himself,
as he noted this. "Yes, they're all at home, and goin' to shoot," he
added in a loud whisper. "Lay down, everybody."

He was none too soon. The tramping through the bushes, and the various
noises that bodies of men will make when in motion, had reached the ears
of the alert rebels. A dazzling series of flashes ran along the sky-
line, and a flight of bullets sang wickedly over the heads of the 200th
Ind., striking in the bushes and trees far behind them.

"Don't anybody yell! Don't anybody shoot!" called the Colonel in a loud
whisper, and it was repeated by the line oflficers. "It will reveal our
position. Lie down and keep perfectly quiet. They're overshooting us."

The rebel battery in the fort waked up, and, more to show its good will
than anything else, began shelling the surrounding landscape.

One of our batteries, a mile or so to the rear, which had not had an
opportunity to fire during the day, could not resist this challenge, and
began throwing shells at the fort with so fair an aim as to draw the
attention of the rebel battery to it.

The lurid flashes of the muskets, cannon, and shells revealed a belt of
jagged abatis several rods wide covering the entire front of the fort
and breastworks.

"Great Scott!" muttered Si to himself, for he was not on speaking terms
with Shorty, and would not alarm the boys; "there's a porcupine nest to
git through. How in the Nation are we ever goin' to do it?"

"Unroll your blankets and lie down on them," came down the line from the
Colonel. "Lay your guns beside you. Don't attempt to stack them. You may
attract the attention of the rebels. Everybody keep his place, and be
ready to form and move at once."

"Stop firing. What are you shooting at?" said a voice of authority in
the rebel works. "Who gave the order to fire?"

"The men began it themselves," said a second voice. "They heard Yankees
moving over there, and commenced shooting at them."

"How do you know there are any Yankees out there? I don't believe they
have advanced beyond the crest of the hill. I think they are all going
down toward Resaca. Haven't you any pickets out there?"

"No. We only moved in here this afternoon, and did not know how long we
were going to stay. I was ordered to stay here till further orders, to
protect the road beyond."

"Well, we haven't any ammunition to waste firing at uncertainties.
There's enough Yankees in sight all the time for all the bullets we
have, without wasting any on imaginary ones. It'll be time enough for
you to begin shooting when you see them coming to the edge of the abatis
there. Before they get through that you'll have time enough to shoot
away all the ammunition you have."

"I'm going to see whether there are any Yankees there," said the second
voice in the rebel works.

"Jim, you and Joe go down to the edge of the abatis and see what you can
see."

The wearied boys had nearly all fallen asleep on their blankets. Even
the noisy artillery duel had not kept Jim Humphreys awake, and Monty
Scruggs and Alf Russell followed his example soon after the firing
ceased. Then Harry Joslyn and Gid Mackall, spreading their blankets
apart for the first time since they had been in the service, sought rest
from their fatigue and forgetfulness of their mutual anger. Si and
Shorty kept sternly apart. Shorty occupied himself in fixing the
blankets comfortably for a nest for little Pete Skidmore, while Si,
brooding over the way that Shorty "had flared up about nothin' at all,"
and the Orderly-Sergeant's and Capt. McGillicuddy's unjust heat to him,
had kept his eyes fixed on the skyline beyond, and had listened to the
conversation of the rebel officers. It occurred to him that by watching
the two rebels come down he might get an idea of a passage through the
abatis, which would be useful in the morning. He strained his eyes to
catch sight of their movements.

He saw two projections against the sky-line, which he knew were the men
crossing the works. They separated, and he could make out two black
blotches above the level of darkness and moving down the slope. One came
almost directly toward him, the other going to the left. It occurred to
him to capture one of the men. He would have suggested to Shorty to get
the other, but he could not bring himself to speak to his partner.
Keeping his eyes fixed on the man directly in front, he slowly wriggled
forward without rising. The man was evidently coming cautiously, halting
every few steps, and looking and listening.

Perfect quiet reigned in the regiment. The men were mostly asleep. Those
who were awake were intently watching the hill for some sign of the
enemy, or as silently foreboding the happenings of the morrow.

Without making the least noise, Si reached the edge of the abatis. There
a young tulip tree had been left standing, and its plentiful branches
and large leaves made a thick mass of darkness. He rose upright behind,
but his foot came down on a dead stick, which broke with a sharp crack.
All the blood rushed to his heart. But at the same instant his head had
disturbed a whip-poor-will who had taken refuge there from the noise.
She flew away with a tumult of plaintive "whips." The rebel in front
halted for a long time. Then he apparently concluded that an owl was
after the whip-poor-will, and, reassured, came forward.

As he had crawled along. Si had felt with his hands that he was on a
tolerably beaten path, which ran by the sapling he was now standing
behind. He was sure that this led through the abatis, and the rebel was
coming down it. The rebel came on so near that Si could hear his
breathing, and Si feared he could hear his. The rebel was carrying his
gun at a trail in his right hand, and putting all his powers into his
eyes and ears to detect signs of the presence of Yankees. He hesitated
for a little while before the sapling, and then stepped past it.

As he did so Si shot out his right arm and caught him around the neck
with so quick and tight a hug that the rebel could not open his mouth to
yell. Si raised his arm so as to press the rebel's jaws together, and
with his left hand reached for his gun. The rebel swayed and struggled,
but the slender Southerner was no match for the broad-shouldered Indiana
boy, whose muscles had been knit by hard work.

The struggle was only momentary until Si secured the gun, and the
rebel's muscles relaxed from the stoppage of his breath.

"If you say a word, or try to, you're a dead man," Si whispered, as he
dropped the gun, and substituted his left hand at the man's throat for
his right arm. Taking silence for acquiescence, Si picked up his own gun
and started with his prisoner for the Colonel. He walked upright boldly
now, for the watchers on the rebel works could not see that there was
more than one man in the path.

The Colonel ordered Si to bring his prisoner back into a gully some
distance behind the line, where he could be interrogated without the
sound reaching the men in the works.

"Where do you belong?" asked the Colonel.

"To Kunnel Wheatstone's Jawjy rijimint."

"How many men have you got over there in the works."

"Well, a right smart passul."

"What do you mean by a right smart parcel?"

"Well, a good big heap."

"What, a thousand?"

"Yes, I reckon so."

"Ten thousand?"

"I 'spects so."

"Twenty thousand."

"Mouty likely."

"You don't seem to have a clear idea of numbers. How many regiments have
you got over there?"

"Well, thar's Kunnel Wheatstone's Jawjy rijimint\x97that's mine; then
thar's Kunnel Tarrant's South Carliny rijimint, and then thar's Kunnel
Bird's Tennessee rijimint, and I don't mind how many others. They've bin
comin' and goin' all day, and I hain't paid no attention to 'em. I only
know that thar's enough to give yo'uns a wallopin' if yo'uns only come
on."

"Sergeant," said the Colonel, "you did a splendid thing in capturing
this man and bringing him to me, but I fear I shall not get as much
information out of him as I'd like to. I don't presume anybody really
knows just how many men are over there. We've got to jump the works and
take the chances on what we find."

"We're ready the minute you give the word. Colonel," said Si, saluting.

"Colonel," said Shorty's voice out of the darkness, "I've brung you one
o' the rebel scouts that was piroutin' out there. I don't know as you
kin make much out o' him, though, for the welt I fetched him with my gun
bar'l seems to've throwed his thinkery out o' gear, and he can't talk
straight."

"And so you got the other one," Si started to say to his partner, but
then he remembered Shorty's "flarin' up," and held his tongue.

"I don't imagine that his 'thinkery,' as you call it, was of much
account when it was in order, if it was no better than this other
man's," said the Colonel, with a smile. "Perhaps, if he could think
better he wouldn't be in the rebel army. Sergeant (to the Provost-
Sergeant), take charge of these two men. Give them something to eat, and
send them to Division Headquarters."

Si and Shorty carefully avoided one another on their way back to the
company, and declined to discuss their exploits with either the Orderly-
Sergeant or Capt. McGillicuddy.

"Go out and git you a rebel for yourself, if you want to know about
'em," Shorty had snapped at the Orderly. "There's plenty more up there
on the hill. It's full of 'em."

As everything now seemed quiet in front, the two partners sat down with
their back against trees to catch a little sleep before the momentous
movement in the morning.

It seemed to Si that he had hardly closed his eyes when the Orderly
shook him and whispered an order to help arouse the men and get them
into line.

"Don't make the least noise," whispered the Orderly. "I hear the rebels
moving around, but we want to jump 'em before they know we're up. The
further we can get through that abatis before they discover us, the
fewer we'll have killed. It's going to be mighty tough work at best, and
I wish that we were going over the works now."

It was the chill gray of the morning, when every man's spirits and
courage are at ebb-tide. For an instant, Si felt his heart sink at the
thought of the awful ordeal that confronted them. There came across his
mind a swift vision of the peaceful home back in Indiana, with the
pleasant fields lying about, over which he used to go on sweet Spring
mornings like this and note the flowers that had bloomed over night, and
the growth the wheat had made. How sickening to be now starting to open
up a hell of pain, wounds, and death. Then his natural courage and will
reasserted themselves, and he began rousing the boys, but with a
tenderness born of the thought that their hearts would be as low as his
in that bleak hour.

Jim Humphreys waked up stolidly, and without a word began preparing to
fall in. Alf Russell's and Monty Scruggs's faces turned ashy after they
had fairly awakened, and they picked up their guns with nerveless
fingers.

Harry Joslyn took the position of a soldier, with his gun at an order,
his lips tightly closed, and his eyes fixed on the rebel position, as
the spreading light developed it. Sandy Baker fidgeted about at one time
tinkering with his gun and equipments, and then stopping half-way in the
task he had started and falling into a fit of musing. Little Pete
Skidmore wandered about, looking into Si's and Shorty's grave faces, and
then into others equally solemn, and finding no comfort in any. It was
the first time that he heard no joke or quip flash along the forming
line to bring cheers or laughter.

"Come, boys," said Si, kindly, "eat your breakfasts. You can't make no
coffee nor fry no meat, but you'd better fill up on cold grub. You'll
need all you can eat."

The mention of something to eat seemed to remind Gid Mackall of his
usual appetite. He pulled a cracker out of his haversack and bit it, but
it seemed distasteful, and he spat the piece out.

"The orders are," said the Orderly-Sergeant in a low tone, as he passed
down in front of the company, "to strip off your bankets, canteens, and
haversacks, and pile them. They'll be in the road in the rush, and catch
in going through the abatis."

"Orderly," said Shorty in his most conciliatory way, "if you want to do
me a favor make Pete Skidmore one of the detail."

"I ain't asking suggestions from you," said the Orderly, still surly.
"But I shall detail Baker and Skidmore for the duty."

The boys flung their things off with something like desperation in their
looks.

It was now daylight, but a dense fog prevented seeing more than a few
feet.

"We can't wait any longer," said the Colonel. "Pass the word down the
line to move forward. Make no noise till the enemy opens fire. Then
everybody push forward as rapidly as possible for the works."

"The first fire will probably go over our heads and do little damage,"
said Capt. McGillicuddy, stepping down to the center, so that his
whisper could be heard by all. "It's always so when men fire downhill.
Then, you all want to be careful and fire low, so as to hit as many as
possible, and rattle them in their future firing. The more of them we
can hit the less of us will be hit afterward. Forward\x97Guide right!"

It seemed as if the crashing of their marching feet was so loud that the
rebels on the hill could not fail to hear it, and they held their
breaths in painful expectancy of the volley. But they had gotten a rod
or more into the entangling brush of the abatis, and were stumbling and
crashing amid the baffling branches, before they heard the voice of the
previous night command:

"Ready\x97Aim\x97aim low\x97Fire!"

The rebel muskets crashed together in a terrific volley, which generally
passed over the heads of the 200th Ind., though a few men fell into the
brush with wounds.

Si had gone up the path that he had found the night before, and
therefore had no struggle with the fallen trees to shake his nerves and
disturb his aim. He had calculated upon this. He brought his musket down
deliberately and took good aim at the point whence the voice of command
had come. As his gun cracked he heard voices cry:

"The Kunnel's shot. Look out for the Kunnel thar."

Another voice immediately spoke up in command: "Steady, men! Keep cool!
Fire low, and give it to the blue-bellied scoundrels!"

Then broke out a mad rage of death and destruction, in which both sides
seemed in the fiercest insanity of murder. The 200th Ind., encouraged by
the shouts of their officers, pressed forward through the baffling tree-
tops, stumbling, falling, rising again, firing as fast as they could
load their guns, and yelling like demons. They were frantic to get
through the obstructions and come to hand-to-hand struggle with the
fiends who were yelling and firing from the top of the breastworks.

The rebel battery in the fort began hurling a tornado of shells as near
as they could bring their guns to bear on the yelling. This aroused its
enemy battery of the night before, and it opened up viciously. The
regiments to the right and left of the 200th Ind. moved forward at the
sound of the firing, and added to the dinning turbulence.

Si had kept to the path, firing coolly and with deadly aim as he kept
pace with the line, which was fiercely forging through the brush. There
had gathered behind him Jim Humphreys, Harry Joslyn, and Gid Mackall.
The rest had gathered over toward Shorty, who was raging through the
abatis, tearing aside the branches which impeded the others, yelling,
swearing most horribly, and firing as a loaded gun would be handed him.
He happened to look around to see who was handing him guns, and saw that
it was Pete Skidmore and Sandy Baker.

"I thought you little brats was ordered to stay behind with the things,"
he gasped.

"I know we was," whimpered little Pete as he capped a gun and handed it
to Shorty; "but we couldn't stay when we heard the yelling and shooting.
We was so scared that we was afraid to stay there, so we hunted you up,
and\x97"

"Come on, boys," yelled Shorty to the others. "Go ahead. We're almost
through, and then we'll salivate them whelps of damnation."

A bullet came so nigh Si's face that it seemed to burn him, and then he
heard it strike. Jim Humphreys fell without a groan\x97a bullet through his
brain.

"Don't mind that. Forward, boys," shouted Si. "Here's the end of the
abatis."

Gid Mackall fell, and Harry Joslyn turned to help him.

"Don't mind him. Come on," Si called over his shoulder, as he rushed in
the clear place, just at the edge of the shallow ditch in front of the
works. "Everybody this way."

The Charge Thru the Abatis. 211

All that was left of the regiment was now through the abatis. The fog
suddenly lifted, and showed the combatants face to face, with only the
ditch and the bank of earth between them. The sight was so startling
that both sides paused for an instant.

"Forward, 200th Ind.! Rally on your colors!" rang out the clear, sweet,
penetrating voice of the Colonel, as he snatched the colors from the
hand of the third man who had borne them since the regiment moved
forward, and sprang up the side of the works.

Of the pandemonium that reigned inside the rebel works for the next few
minutes Si only recollected seeing the Orderly-Sergeant, bareheaded, and
with bayonet fixed, leap down from the bank and transfix a man who tried
to snatch the flag from the Colonel's hand. Si arrived just in time to
shoot the rebel officer who was striking at the Orderly with his sword,
while Shorty came up, knocking down a winrow of men with his gun swung
by the butt as a club, to rescue Si from three rebels who were trying to
bayonet him.

All at once the entire rebel line broke and ran down the hill in a wave
of dingy brown, while another wave of blue rolled over the works to the
right and left of the 200th Ind.

"I hope you ain't hurt, Orderly," said Si, dropping the butt of his
musket on the ground, and wiping his flushed face. "I thought that
officer was goin' to git you, sure."

"He would, if it hadn't been for you, Si. He got in one slash on me, but
it ain't much, I think. But Shorty helped you out of a tight box."

"Yes; Shorty generally does that," said Si, with a beaming look on his
partner. "He's the best soldier in the regiment, and kin always be
trusted to git in on time anywhere."

"Well, I'm afraid it 'll be a short roll I'll have to call this
evening," said the Orderly, with a sorrowful expression. "I suppose we'd
better go back through that brush and look up the boys that were
dropped."



CHAPTER XVII. GATHERING UP THE BOYS AFTER THE BATTLE.

"HOORAY for Injianny. Injianny gits there every time," roared Si,
joining the yelling, exultant throng crowding around the Colonel. "The
old 200th wuz the first to cross the works, and miles ahead o' any other
rejimint."

"Bully for the Wild Wanderers of the Wabash," Shorty joined in. "They're
the boss regiment in the army o' the Cumberland, and the Army o' the
Cumberland's the boss army on earth. Hooray for US Co. Le's have a
speech. Where's Monty Scruggs?"

"Yes, Where's Monty?" echoed Si, with a little chill at his heart, for
he had not remembered seeing the boy since they emerged from the abatis,
just before the final rush.

"Well, le's have a song, then," said Shorty, as Si was looking around.
"Where's Alf Russell?"

"Yes, Where's Alf Russell?" echoed Si, with a new pang clutching at his
heart, for he then recalled that he had not seen Alf since he had helped
him up the embankment, immediately after which Si's thoughts, had been
engrossed by the struggle for the flag. "Did any of you boys see either
Alf or Monty?" he asked nervously.

"And has anybody seen Pete Skidmore?" chimed in Shorty, his voice
suddenly changing from a tone of exultation to one of deepest concern.
"Why don't some o' you speak? Are you all dumb?"

Somehow everybody instinctively stopped cheering, and an awed hush
followed.

"All of Co. Q step this way," called out the Orderly-Sergeant. All of
the usual "rasp" had left the strong, rough voice. There was a mournful
tremor in it. "Fall in, Co. Q, over there by this pile of picks and
shovels."

Scarcely 20 of the 80 stalwart youths who had lined up at the foot of
the rugged palisades of Rocky Face two evenings before grouped
themselves together in response to the Orderly's call.

Capt. McGillicuddy, the Orderly, Si, and Shorty strained their eyes to
see more of the company disengaging themselves from the throng around
the Colonel.

The Orderlies of the other companies called to their men to fall in at
different places.

The Colonel looked at the muster with sad eyes.

"Didn't nobody see nothin' o' little Skidmore?" savagely repeated
Shorty, walking back to the works and scanning the country round. "Was
you all so blamed anxious lookin' out for yourselves that you didn't pay
no attention to that little boy? Nice gang, you are."

"Orderly, take the company back into the abatis, and look for the boys,"
ordered Capt. McGillicuddy.

"'Tention, company!" commanded the Orderly. "Stack arms! Right
face\x97Break ranks\x97March!"

"Hello, boys," said Monty Scruggs's voice, weak but unmistakably his, as
the company recrossed the works.

"Great heavens! he's bin shot through the bowels?" thought Si, turning
toward him with sickening apprehension of this most dreaded of wounds.
Then, aloud, with forced cheerfulness\x97"I hope you ain't hurt bad,
Monty."

"I was hurt bad enough, the Lord knows," answered the boy with a wan
smile. "I hain't been hurt so bad since I stubbed by sore toe last
Summer. But I'm getting over it pretty fast. Just as I started up the
bank a rebel threw a stone as big as my fist at me, and it took me
square where I live. I thought at first that whole battery over there in
the fort had shot at me all at once. Goodness, but it hurt! My, but that
fellow could throw a stone! Seemed to me that it went clear into me, and
bent my back-bone. I've been feeling to see if it wasn't bent. But we
got the works all right, didn't we?"

"You bet we did," Si answered exultantly. "Licked the stuffin' out of
'em. Awful glad you're no worse hurt, Monty. Make your way inside there,
and you'll find the Surgeon. He'll bring you around all right. We're
goin' to look for the other boys."

"Alf Russell caught a bullet," said Monty Scruggs. "I heard him yell,
and turned to look at him, when that rebel's bowlder gave me something
else to think about, so I don't know where he is."

"Gid Mackall's lying over there, somewhere," said Larry Joslyn, who was
all anxiety in regard to his old partner and antagonist. "Let me go and
find him."

"Go ahead," said Si, helping Monty to his feet. "I'll be right with
you."

While Si was going back the way he had come Shorty was tearing through
the tangled brush, turning over the tree-tops by main strength,
searching for Pete Skidmore. The rest of the company were seeking out
the fallen ones hither and thither, and calling to one another, as they
made discoveries, but Shorty only looked for Pete Skidmore. Si and Harry
presently came to Gid Mackall's body, lying motionless in a pool of
blood that dyed crimson the brown leaves thickly covering the ground.
His cap had fallen off, and his head had crushed down into a bunch of
slender oak twigs; his eyes were closed, and his callow face white as
paper.

"O, he's dead! He's stone dead," wailed Harry Joslyn. "And just think
how I quarreled and fought with him this morning."

"Mebbe not," said Si, to whom such sights were more familiar, "That
bullet hole in his blouse is too low down and too fur out to've hit
either his heart or his lungs, seems to me. Mebbe he's only fainted from
loss o' blood. Ketch hold o' his feet. I'll take his head, and we'll
carry him back to the Surgeon. Likely he kin bring him to."

The rough motion roused Gid, and as they clambered back over the works,
Harry was thrilled to see him open his eyes a little ways.

"Apparently," said the busy Surgeon, stopping for a minute, with knife
and bullet-forceps in his bloodstained hands, to give a brief glance and
two or three swift touches to Gid, "the ball has struck his side and
broke a rib or two. He's swooned from loss of blood. The blood's stopped
flowing now, and he'll come around all right. Lay him over there in the
shade of those trees. Put something under his head, and make him as
comfortable as possible. I'll attend to him as soon as I can get through
with these men who are much worse off than he is."

And the over-worked Surgeon hurried away to where loud groans were
imperatively calling for his helpful ministrations.

Si and Harry broke down a thick layer of cedar branches to make a
comfortable bed for Gid, placed a chunk under his head, and hurried away
again to search for Alf Russell. They went over carefully that part of
the works they had crossed, and the abatis in front, but could find no
trace of him. They feared that after he had been shot he had crawled
back under the shelter of some tree-tops, to protect him from the flying
bullets, and died there. They turned over and pulled apart the branches
for a wide space, but did not succeed in finding him, or any trace. But
they found Bob Willis, stark in death, lying prone in the top of a young
hickory, into which he had crashed, when the fatal bullet found him
pressing courageously forward. Him they carried pitifully forward, and
added to the lengthening row of the regiment's dead, which was being
gathered up.

Then they went reluctantly back\x97shuddering with the certainty of what
they should find, to bring in Jim Humphreys's body.

Harry Joslyn was so agitated by the sight of Humphreys's mangled head
and staring eyes that Si made him turn his back, place himself between
the feet, one of which he took in each hand, and go before in carrying
the body back. Si stripped the blouse up so as to cover the head, and
took the shoulders between his hands, and so another body was added to
the row of the regimental dead.

Si himself was so sick at heart that he had little inclination to
continue the search farther than to look over the wounded, as they were
brought in, in hopes of finding some of his squad there.

"There are three of us yet missing," he said. "Mebbe they've got mixed
up with the Kankakee boys on our left, and'll come in all right after
awhile. Mebbe they're out with Shorty somewhere. I'll wait till he comes
in. Harry, I expect me and you'd better dig poor Jim's grave. There's no
tellin' how long we'll stay here. Jim 'd rather we put him under than
strangers what don't know and care for him. It's all we kin do for the
poor feller; I'll git a pick and you take a shovel. We'll make the grave
right here, where the Colonel lit when he jumped over the works with the
flag. That'll tickle Jim, if he's lookin' down from the clouds. Too bad,
he couldn't have lived long enough to see us go over the embankment,
with the Colonel in the lead, wavin' the flag."

"The best thing," said Harry, forgetting his sorrow in the exciting
memories of the fight, "was to see the Orderly sock his bayonet up to
the shank in the rebel, and you blow off that officer's head\x97"

"Hush, Harry. Never speak o' that," Si admonished him.

"And see you," continued Harry, "stand off all three of them rebels, who
was tryin' to bayonet you, until Corp'l Elliott came raring down,
swinging his gun like a flail. Great Scott! didn't he lay 'em out,
though! I saw it all, as I was loading my gun in nine times to shoot one
of the rebels attacking you, I'd just got the cap on, when Corp'l
Elliott loped in."

"Orderly," said Si a little later, "we've got Jim Humphreys's grave dug.
Will you take the things out of his pockets to send to his folks? and
then we'll bury him."

"Better wait till the Captain comes back and gives the orders," said the
Orderly. "I don't want to touch his pockets without the Captain's
orders. Then, we ought to have his blanket to bury him in. You go ahead
and dig Bob Willis's grave, and I'll take a detail back and bring up the
blankets and things."

Shorty had pushed his unavailing search for little Pete far past the
point where he remembered to have seen the boy, in the midst of the
fighting. He had torn his hands and worn out his strength in tearing
aside the brush to expose every possible place that the dying boy or his
dead body might be concealed. He had reached the further side of the
obstruction, and sat down on a stump, in despair of heart and exhaustion
of body.

Those with him, more intent on getting something to eat, had pushed on
back to where their haversacks and canteens and blankets had been left.

Presently Shorty heard a call across the little valley:

"Cor\x97po\x97ral Ell\x97iott. Cor\x97po\x97ral Ell\x97iott!"

"Well, what is it?" Shorty called back, crustily.

"Lit\x97tle\x97Pete\x97and\x97Sandy\x97Ba\x97ker\x97is\x97o\x97ver\x97here," came back upon the bright
Spring air.

Shorty sprang up electrified, and tore across the intervening space at
the double-quick. He found Pete and Sandy Baker standing soberly on
guard over the line of the company's blankets and belongings.

"Great Jehosephat, you little brats, how did you git here?" he
exclaimed, snatching little Pete up and hugging him.

"Why shouldn't we be here?" asked Pete, as soon as he could get breath.
"Didn't the Captain order us to stay here? Me and Sandy follered you
fellers until you jumped inside the works, and the rebels was a runnin'.
We stood on top o' the bank and shot at the rebels as fast as we could
load our guns. We kept shootin' at 'em till they got clean down to the
road. Then we saw the Captain lookin' over our way, and we thought he
was comin' over there to skin us alive for leaving the things, and we
ducked down behind the bank and run back here as fast as we could fetch
it. You ain't goin' to tell the Captain on us, and have us tied up by
the thumbs, are you, Corporal? Everything's safe. Nothing's gone. You
won't tell, will you?"

"O, you worthless little scamp," said Shorty, with tears of joy in his
eyes. "You ain't worth the powder that'd blow you up. I could pound you
for the worry you've given me in the last hour. But you ain't hurt a
bit, are you?"

"Nope," answered Pete. "But we both got awfully scratched runnin'
through that brush. Say, wasn't the way the boys jumped the works and
waded into them sardines just grand?"

The Orderly-Sergeant and his detail came back for the things, and Shorty
and the boys, picking up those belonging to the squad, made their way to
the company.

By the time they got back everybody's emotions had subsided sufficiently
to allow him to remember that he was terribly hungry, and that the next
business in order should be the cooking of the first warm meal they had
had for more than a day. Fires were soon blazing in every direction, and
the air was fragrant with the smell of hot coffee and cooking meat. Even
Monty Scruggs felt that the kink had gone out of his backbone, and the
disturbance in his dietetic department had sufficiently subsided to
allow him to enjoy a cup of coffee and piece of toasted meat on a
hardtack. The Surgeon had reached Gid Mackall, and had put him in
comfortable shape.

The bodies of Bob Willis and Jim Humphreys were wrapped in their
blankets, and mournfully consigned to the earth. A cedar bush was stuck
in the head of each grave, and Si, finding a piece of smooth board and a
chunk of soft charcoal from a fire, sat down on the bank, and begun
laboriously composing the following inscription:

JAMES HUMFRI CO. Q.

200th injianny VolunTer Infantry KiLD may, 15th 1864 He dide For His
country The lord luvs a

Braiv man

"That's all right. Si," said Shorty coming up with his mouthful of
hardtack and meat, and inspecting Si's work with critical approval. "You
kin lay away over me and all the rest when it comes to writin' and
composin'. And you know how to spell, too. I wish I had your education.
But I never had a chance to go to school."

"Then you think it'll do, Shorty," said Si, much flattered by his
partner's approval.

"Yes, it's just bully. But I think you ought to say something about
Jim's good character. That's usual on tombstones. You might say of him
that he had in him the makin' of the finest poker player in the Army of
the Cumberland. I never see a sleepyheaded boy pick up the fine pints o'
the game like he did, and he had nerve, too, along with his science."

"No, it wouldn't do at all to put anything o' that kind on," answered
Si, going to the grave, and driving the board down with a pick. "Mustn't
let Jim's folks know for the world that he gambled. It'd be the last
straw on his poor old mother, who's a strict Baptist. She may stand
hearing that he's killed, but never could that he played cards. What in
the world's become of Alf Russell, do you s'pose?"

"Who in Jeff Davis's dominions is that comin' up?" said Shorty, scanning
an approaching figure. "Looks as if he'd had his head busted and then
tied up agin with strings."

The figure certainly looked like Alf Russell and wore Alf Russell's
clothes, but the head was unrecognizable. A broad white bandage
encircled the face, going from the top of the forehead around under the
chin, and there were several folds of it. Then it ran around the head
transversely, covering the nose and the cheeks, and only allowing the
mouth and the eyes to show.

"Hello, boys," said a weak voice, which was unmistakably Alf Russell's.

"Hello, Alf," said Si delightedly. "I'm so glad to see you. I've bin
huntin' everywhere for you. What's happened to you? Badly hurt?"

"Nothing, only the left side o' my head tore out," said Alf feebly.
"Something struck me, probably a bomb-shell, just as I was going up the
bank after you. I went down to our Surgeon, but he was too busy to
attend to me. I then found the brigade hospital, but the Surgeons there
were too busy, too. They gave me a roll of bandages, and told me to fix
it up myself. I did it with the help of one of the men who was waiting
to have his leg dressed. I fancy I did quite a neat piece of bandaging,
as well as the Surgeons themselves could've done it. Don't you think
so?"

"Great Scott!" gasped Si, "you couldn't be walkin' around with the side
of your head knocked out. I'm astonished at you."

"So'm I," returned Alf placidly. "I'm surprised that I'm doing as well
as I am. But I gave myself good attendance, and that's a great thing.
I'm awful hungry. Got anything to eat? Where's my haversack?"

"Here it is," said Si, readily. "And here's a cup o' hot coffee. I'll
brile you a piece o' meat. But really, I don't think you ought to eat
anything before the Surgeon sees you. Mebbe it won't be good for you."

"I'll chance it," said Alf desperately, reaching for the cup of coffee.
"I'm sure it'll be better for me to eat something."

"Le's go down and see the Surgeon," insisted Si.

"No," protested Alf, "it ain't hurting me much now, and he's awful busy
with other men, so we hadn't better interrupt him."

"The Surgeon ought to see you at once, Alf," interjected Shorty. "Here
comes one of 'em now. Doctor, will you please look at this boy."

"Certainly," said the Surgeon, stopping on his way. "I guess I can spare
a minute. Take off that bandage, my boy."

"Don't mind me. Doctor," said Alf. "'Taint hurting me now, at all,
scarcely. I did it up very carefully."

"Take off the bandage at once, I tell you," said the Surgeon
imperatively. "I haven't any time to waste. Let me see your wound."

Alf set down his cup of coffee, and began laboriously unwinding the long
bandage, while the rest stood around in anxious expectation. Yards of
folds came off from around his forehead and chin, and then he reached
that around his nose and the back of his head. Still the ghastly edges
of the terrible wound did not develop. Finally the blood-soaked last
layer came off, and revealed where a bullet had made a shallow but ugly-
looking furrow across the cheek and made a nick in the ear.

"Alf, that rebel come dumbed nigh missin' you," said the greatly
relieved Si.

"If you should happen to ketch cold in that it wouldn't git well for a
week," added Shorty.

"Give me that bandage," said the Surgeon just before he hurried away.
"Take this sticking-plaster and draw the lips of the wound together, and
if you keep the dirt out it may heal without a scar."



CHAPTER XVIII. AN ARTILLERY DUEL AND A "DEMONSTRATION" ON THE ENEMY'S
POSITION.

"RUSSELL, that ain't going to heal without a A scar," Alf Russell
consoled himself, as he studied his hurt with a little round pocket
looking-glass, a screen of bushes concealing him from his unappreciative
comrades. "It's more than Monty Scruggs nor Harry Joslyn nor Sandy
Baker'll have to show for the fight. It's even more than Gid Mackall
has, even though he is knocked out. I ought to be sent to the hospital,
too. It'll be something to write home to father and mother, and they'll
put it in the paper and the folks'll talk about it. Gracious, there's a
bugle blowing again. Wonder what that means?"

"That's the Headquarters bugle," said Si, pricking up his ears. "That's
'Attention.' Git your traps together, boys. 'Assembly' 'll come next."

"Good gracious!" gasped Alf Russell, coming out from behind the bushes,
"they don't expect us to do any more fighting today, do they?"

"Very likely," said Shorty, helping Pete Skidmore on with his blanket-
roll. "The job ain't done till it is done, and there's lots o' rebels
over there yit who need lickin'. Now's the best time to finish it. This
ain't nothin' to Stone River and Chickamaugy. Got your canteen full,
Pete? Better fill it before we start. Take mine, too. Don't go any
further'n that first spring there, for I don't want to take no chances
on losin' you again."

The cannonading in the distance grew fiercer, and regiments could be
seen rushing up at the doublequick. Long, shrill rebel yells came from
the hilltops, and were answered by volleys and deep-toned cheers.

Another bugle-call rang out from Brigade Headquarters.

"Fall in, Co. Q," sharply commanded the Orderly-Sergeant.

With a shiver of apprehension, with a nervous memory of the bitter hours
just past, with the sight before their eyes of the scarcely-cold dead,
the remainder of the company fell in with sadly-shrunken ranks.

"Orderly, we need some more cartridges," suggested Shorty.

"I've been thinking of that," replied the Orderly, "and wondering where
to go for them."

"I saw some boxes of Enfields up there toward the battery," said Si.
"The rebels left 'em. They'll fit our guns, and them English cartridges
is just as good as ours."

"Pike over and get them, quick, before the other fellows drop on to
'em," said the Orderly.

"Gracious! going to shoot the rebels with their own bullets," remarked
Monty, who had nearly recovered, and came up pluckily to take his place
in the ranks. "Isn't that great medicine! How I should like to pop one
into that fellow that belted me with that bowlder."

"Hello, Monty," called Shorty jovially to drive out the sad thoughts.
"Got that kink out o' your backbone? Bully boy. You've got the right
kind of nerve. You'll be a man before your mother yet."

"Yes, and I'm here, too, and don't you forget it," said Alf Russell, not
to be outdone by Monty nor unnoticed. "By rights, I ought to be in the
hospital."

"By rights, I ought to be a Jigadier-Brindle," retorted Shorty, "but I
never could git Abe Lincoln to take that view of it. Here, fill up your
cartridgebox. You'll need lots of 'em, if you're only goin' to shoot to
crease your rebels, as that feller did you."

It was not brilliant pleasantry, but it served. It set them to thinking
of something else. They hastily filled their cartridge-boxes, adjusted
their blankets, and when the bugle sounded forward they started with
something of their original nerve.

The regiment moved off at the head of the brigade, and after a march of
a mile or so came out upon a hill from which they could see one of our
batteries having an unequal fight with several of the rebel batteries in
a fort far to its front. Our cannoneers were standing up bravely to
their work, but the rebel shells were bursting about them in a wild
storm of crashing, deafening explosions, and hurtling, shrieking masses
of iron. The sharp crack of their own rifles was at times drowned by the
ear-splitting din of the bursting shells.

"Goodness!" murmured Monty Scruggs, with colorless lips, as the regiment
came into line and moved forward to the battery's line of caissons at
the bottom of the hill. "I'm so glad I didn't enlist in the artillery. I
don't see how anybody up there can live a minute."

"Yes, it looks like as if those artillery boys are earnin' their $13 a
month about every second of their lives," remarked Shorty. "There ought
to be some other batteries loafin' around somewhere that could join in."

The boys leaned on their muskets and watched the awful spectacle with
dazed eyes. It seemed far more terrible even than the ordeal through
which they had just been.

The battery was one of the oldest and best in the army, and its "fire
discipline" was superb.

The Captain stood on a little elevation to the rear and somewhat apart,
intently studying the rebel line through his field-glasses. After a few
words of direction as to the pointing of the guns, and the command,
"Begin firing," he had given no orders, scarcely spoken. He could not
have been heard in that terrible turmoil. He had simply brought his
terrible engine of destruction\x97the engine upon which he and his men had
lavished years of laborious drilling and training\x97into position, and set
it going.

What the result would be fate alone would determine. That was a matter
that neither he nor his men regarded. If it destroyed or crippled its
opponents it was simply doing the work for which it had been created. If
its opponents destroyed it, that was a contingency to be accepted. It
was there to endure that fate if so ordered.

Behind the wings of the battery stood the Lieutenants, leaning on their
sabers, and gazing with fixed, unmoving eyes on the thunderous wrack and
ruin.

They said nothing. There was no reason for saying anything. Everything
was working systematically and correctly. Every man was doing his best,
and in the best way. Nobody needed reminder, reprimand, direction or
encouragement.

Similarly, the Sergeants stood behind their sections, except that one
after another they stepped forward to the guns to take the places of men
who had fallen and could not be replaced. At the guns the men were
working with the swiftness of light flashes, and the unerring certainty
of machines. To the watchers at the base of the slope they seemed to
weave back and forth like some gigantic, demoniac loom, as they sprang
at their guns, loaded them, "broke away" as they fired, leaped back
again, caught the gun in its recoil, hurled it forward, again reloaded,
"broke away" and fired, all quicker than thought. A shell took off a
sponger's head, but the sponge-staff was caught by another before it
fell, and the gun fired again without a pause. A shrapnel swept away
every man about one gun. The Lieutenant looked inquiringly at the
Sergeant, and in an instant another squad seemed to spring up from the
ground to continue the firing without missing a note in the battery's
rhythm.

The groups about each gun thinned out, as the shrieking fragments of
shell mowed down man after man, but the rapidity of the fire did not
slacken in the least. One of the Lieutenants turned and motioned with
his saber to the riders seated on their horses in the line of limbers
under the cover of the slope. One rider sprang from each team and ran up
to take the place of men who had fallen.

The next minute the Lieutenant turned and motioned again, and another
rider sprang from each team and ran up the hill. But one man was now
left to manage the six horses attached to each limber. He soon left,
too, in obedience to the Lieutenant's signal, and a faint, bleeding man
came back and climbed into his place.

A shrapnel shell burst almost under the left gun and lifted it up in the
air. When the smoke opened a little not a man could be seen about the
cannon. A yell of exultation floated over from the rebel line.

The Lieutenant unbuckled his saber, dropped it to the ground, and ran
forward to the cannon. Two or three men rose slowly from the ground,
upon which they had been prostrated, and joined the Lieutenant in
running the gun back to its place, and reloading it.

Hooray for the Old Battery. 231

"Hooray for the old battery! Bully boys! Made o' right stuff," shouted
Shorty enthusiastically. "Never ketch me saying nothin' agin' the
artillery agin. Men who act like that when they're standin' right in the
middle o' hell with the lid off are 18karat fine."

"Captain," suggested Si, who was fidgeting under the excitement of a
scene in which he was taking no part, "wouldn't it be well for some of
us to go up there and help the battery boys out? I could sponge and
ram."

"No," answered the Captain; "help has been sent for for them, and there
it comes."

He pointed back over the hill to where two batteries were coming from
different directions on a dead run. It was a magnificent sight. One
battery was following the road, and the other cutting across the open
space in a hot race to get ahead and be in action first.

The Captains were galloping ahead to point out the way. The Sergeants
were alongside, seconding the whips of the drivers with strokes of the
flats of their sabers on the animals' hanches. The six horses to each
gun were galloping like mad, snatching the heavy piece over gullies,
bumps, logs, and rocks as if it were a straw. The gunners had abandoned
their usual calm pose with folded arms on the limber chests, and were
maintaining their seats only by a desperate clutch on the side-irons.

The boys turned even from the storm in front to watch the thrilling
spectacle.

The two Captains were fairly abreast as they led their batteries up the
long slope, crushing the brush, sending sticks and stones flying from
the heavy, flying wheels. Both reached the crest at the same time, and
the teams, wheeling around at a gallop, flung the muzzles of the cannon
toward the enemy. Without waiting for them to stop the nimble cannoneers
sprang to ground, unlimbered the guns, rolled them into position, sent
loads down their black throats, and before it was fairly realized that
they had reached the crest hurled a storm of shells across the valley at
the rebel batteries.

"Hooray! Hooray! They're gittin' some o' their own medicine now," yelled
the excited regiment. "Sock it to 'em. How do you like that, you ill-
begotten imps of rebels?"

The rebel cannoneers seemed to lose heart at once under the storm of
fire that beat upon them. The volume of their fire diminished at once,
and then became fitful and irregular. Two of their limbers were blown up
in succession, with thunderous noise, and this further discouraged them.

Obeying a common impulse, the 200th Ind., regardless of the dropping
shells, had left its position, and pressed forward toward the crest,
where it could see what was going on.

The Colonel permitted this, for he anticipated that a charge on the
rebel works would follow the beating down of the artillery fire, and he
wanted his regiment to be where it would get a good start in the race to
capture a rebel battery. He simply cautioned the Captains to keep their
men in hand and ready. As Capt. McGillicuddy called Co. Q closer
together, it occurred to Shorty that in the interest he had taken in the
artillery duel he had not looked after Pete Skidmore for some time, and
he began casting his eyes around for that youth. He was nowhere to be
seen, and, of course, no one knew anything about him.

"Why don't you get a rope. Shorty, and tie the blamed kid to you, and
not be pestering yourself and everybody else about him all the time?"
asked the Orderly-Sergeant irritably, for he was deeply intent upon the
prospective charge, and did not want to be bothered. "He's more worry
than he's worth."

"Shut up!" roared Shorty. "If you wasn't Orderly-Sergeant I'd punch your
head. I won't have nobody sayin' that about little Pete. He's the best
boy that ever lived. If I could only git hold of him I'd shake the
plaguey life out o' him. Drat him!"

Shorty anxiously scanned the field in every direction, but without his
eyes being gladdened by the sight of the boy.

The wounded being carried back from the batteries impressed him sadly
with the thought that Pete might have been struck by a piece of shell.

"Him and Sandy Baker are both gone," said the Orderly, looking over the
company. "I'll buck-and-gag both of 'em when I catch 'em, to learn 'em
to stay in ranks."

"Indeed you won't," said Shorty, under his breath.

The rebel fire had completely died down, and our own ceased, to allow
the guns to cool for a few minutes, in preparation for an energetic
reopening when the anticipated charge should be ordered.

To be in readiness for this, the Colonel drew the regiment forward
through the batteries, to lie down on the slope in front, that he might
have a start on the other Colonels. As they passed through the batteries
a little imp, about the size of Pete Skidmore, but with face as black as
charcoal, pulled off the leather bag in which cartridges are carried
from the limber to the gun, and handed it to one of the cannoneers, who
said:

"Well, good-by, if you must be going. You done well. You ought to belong
to the artillery. You're too good for a dough-boy. I'm going to ask the
Captain to have you detailed to us."

A similar scene was taking place at the next gun, with a little
blackamoor about the size of Sandy Baker.

The boys picked up their guns and belts from the ground, and fell in
with Co. Q.

"Hello, Corporal," said Pete, with a capacious grin rifting the powder
grime on his face. "We've just bin having lots o' fun."

"Pete, you aggravatin' little brat," said Shorty, giving him a cuff that
started the boy's tears to making little white streaks through the
black, "where in the world have you bin, and what've you bin doin'?"

"Why," whimpered Pete, "me and Sandy crept forward to a rock where we
thought we could see better, and then we thought we could see better
from another, and we kept a-goin' until we got clear up to where the
limbers was, afore we knowed it. Just then a couple o' them powder-
monkeys, as you call 'em, come runnin' back for cartridges, but they was
both hit, and was all bloody, and both of 'em fell down and couldn't go
no further, when they got the cartridges, though they wanted to. Me and
Sandy thought it was too bad that the men up there at the guns shouldn't
have no cartridges, when they was fighting so hard, so we picked up the
boys' bags and run up to the cannon with 'em. The men there was so glad
to git 'em, and told us to lay down our guns and run back for some more.
They kept us goin' till the rebels was knocked out, and we thought we
was doin' right and helpin', and they told us we was, and now you slap
me. Boo-hoo-hoo!"

"Don't cry, Pete. I done wrong," said Shorty, melting instantly, and
putting his arm around the boy. "You done right, and you're a brave,
good little boy. Only you must not go away from the company without
lettin' me know."

"Good God," groaned the Colonel, as he halted the regiment down the
slope, and studied the opposite side with his glass. "There's another
abatis, and it looks worse than the one in which we have just left half
the regiment. But we'll go through if there's only one man left to carry
the flag over the works. I don't suppose that we are any better than
those who have already died, or got any better right to live."

"This is the dumbedest country for cuttin' down trees the wrong way," Si
sadly remarked, as he surveyed the abatis. "It's meaner'n midnight
murder. I'd like to git hold o' the pizen whelp what invented it."

"The devil invented abatis, just after he invented hell, and as an
improvement on it, and just before he invented secession," Shorty judged
hotly. "When we git through them abatis there I'm goin' to kill
everything I find, just to learn 'em to stop sich heathenish work. It's
sneakin' murder, not war."

"When we get through," murmured Alf Russell dolefully. "How many of us
will ever get through?"

"Who'll be the Jim Humphreys and Gid Mackals this time?" said Monty
Scruggs, looking at the tangled mass of tree-tops.

"Can you see any path through this abatis, Sergeant?" nervously asked
Harry Joslyn.

"No, Harry," said Si, kindly and encouragingly. "But we'll find some way
to git through. There's probably a path that we kin strike. Stay close
by me, and we'll try our best."

"Well, I for one am goin' through, and I'm goin' to take Pete and Sandy
with me," said Shorty, in a loud, confident tone, to brace up the
others. "I've always gone through every one o' them things I've struck
yit, and this ain't no worse'n the others. But we ought to jump 'em at
once, while they're shiverin' over the shelling' we give 'em. They must
be shakin' up there yit like a dog on a January mornin'. Why don't we
start, I wonder?"

The batteries behind them began throwing shells slowly and deliberately,
as if testing their range, before beginning a general cannonade. All
along the crest, to their right and to their left, could be seen
regiments moving up and going into line of battle.

"It's goin' to be a big smash this time, sure," said Si. "And the 200th
Injianny's got a front seat at the performance. We'll show them how to
do it, and we're just the ones that kin. Brace up, boys. The eyes of the
whole army's on us. They expect big things from us."

"Here she goes, I guess," he continued, as a bugle sounded at
headquarters. "Everybody git ready to jump at the word, and not stop
goin' till we're inside the works."

The lines stiffened, every one drew a long breath, gripped his gun, and
braced himself for the fiery ordeal. There was an anxious wait, and then
the Adjutant came walking quietly down the line, with his horse's bridle
over his arm.

"It seems," he explained to Capt. McGillicuddy, loud enough for the
company to hear, "that we are not to make an assault, after all. There's
enough rebels over there in the works to eat us up without salt. We are
ordered to only make a demonstration, and hold them, while the rest work
down on their flanks toward Calhoun, which is six miles below, and get
in their rear. You can let your men rest in place till further orders."

"Take the company Orderly," said the Captain, walking off with the
Adjutant.

"'Tention! Stack arms; Place rest!" commanded the Orderly.

The revulsion of feeling among the keenly-wrought-up men was almost
painful.

"Demonstration be blamed," said Si, sinking upon a convenient rock. "I
always did hate foolin'. Gracious, how tired I am."

"Only a demonstration\x97only powow, noise, show and bluff," sneered
Shorty, flinging his gun against the stack. "Why didn't they tell us
this an hour ago, and save me all this wear and tear that's makin' me
old before my time? When I git ready for a fight I want it to come off,
without any postponement on account of weather. Come, Pete, go wash your
face and hands, and then we'll spread our blankets and lay down. I'm
tireder'n a mule after crossin' Rocky Face Ridge. I don't want to take
another step, nor even think, till I git a good sleep."

"We don't have to go over that brush, then?" said Alf Russell, with an
expression of deep relief. "I'm so glad. Great Jerusalem, how my wound
begins to ache again. You fellows oughtn't to laugh at my wound. You
don't know how it hurts to have all those delicate nerves torn up."

So it was with every one. The moment the excitement of the impending
fight passed away, every one was sinking with fatigue, and all his other
troubles came back. Monty Scruggs suddenly remembered how badly he had
been hurt, and started to drag himself off in search of the Surgeon,
while Harry Joslyn and Sandy Baker, chumming together for the first
time, snuggled together in their blankets, and sought that relief from
the excitement and fatigues of the day which kindly Nature never refuses
to healthy young bodies.



CHAPTER XIX. SI AND SHORTY ARE PUT UNDER ARREST.

THE next morning the rebels were found to be gone from the position in
front of the 200th Ind;, and after breakfast the regiment marched
leisurely by a road around the dreaded abatis, to the ground which had
been scarred and mangled by our terrible artillery fire.

It was an appalling scene that the eyes of the boys rested upon. Every
horrid form of mutilation and death which could be inflicted by the
jagged shards and fiendish shells, or the even more demon-like shrapnel-
balls, was visible.

Everything was torn, rent, and ragged, as if soma mighty giant, insane
to destroy, had spent his fury there. Nothing had escaped the iron flail
of devastation. Trees shattered or cut entirely down; limberchests and
cannon-wheels merely bunches of blackened splinters; frightfully mangled
horses, dead, or yet living in agony that filled their great plaintive
eyes; lying in ghastly pools of blood, which filmed and clotted under
the bright rays of the May morning sun.

"Looks like Judgment morn or the fall of Babylon," muttered the
religious-minded Alf Russell, the first to break their awed silence.

Awful Destruction. 242

"Or the destruction of Sennacherib," suggested Monty Scruggs\x97

"For the angel of death spread his wings on the blast, And breathed in
the face of the foe as he passed."

"I should say he had a mighty strong breath, Monty," Shorty interrupted.
He liked to break in on Monty's heroics. "Excuse me from havin' a
12pounder breathin' around me."

"And the eyes of the sleepers waxed deadly and chill, And their hearts
but once heaved, and forever grew still," continued Monty.

"I'll bet there wasn't much sleepin' around here while that shell'n' was
goin' on," broke in Shorty again. "Except the sleep that has the sod for
a coverlet and Gabriel's trumpet for a breakfast bell."

Monty continued impressively:

"And there lay the steed, with his nostrils all wide, But through them
there rolled not the breath of his pride; And the foam of his gasping
lay white on the turf, And cold as the spray of the rock-beating surf."

"Poor horses," murmured Shorty. "I always feel mighty sorry for them.
They hadn't nothin' to do with gittin' up this rebellion. We must go
around and kill such as is alive, and put them out o' their misery."

Monty resumed:

"And there lay the rider, distorted and pale. With the dew on his brow
and the rust on his mail; And the tents were all silent, the banners
alone. The lances uplifted, the trumpets unblown."

"Serves 'em right, the yaller-bellied, clay-eatin' yowlers," said Shorty
savagely, looking over the mangled corpses. "Pays 'em up for their
murderin' abatis. We got it in this time worse on them than they did on
us, though it'd take as much of this as'd make up several Counties to
pay up for any one o' the good boys we lost yesterday. I hope they are
all where they kin look down and see how we got it on the secesh hell-
hounds. We'll do 'em up worse yit before we're through with 'em."

"Our batteries are improvin' wonderfully," commented the more practical
Si, studying the field. "They seem to've socked every shell in just
where it'd do the most good. No shootin' at the State o' Georgy
generally and trustin' to luck to hit a rebel. Every shell seems to've
landed just where it was needed, and then 'tended to its business and
busted. You don't see no signs of any strikin' a quarter of a mile away,
nor a whole one layin' around anywhere. That's good gunnin', and I'm
glad our old six-hoss thrashin'-machine done the biggest share of it.
Our brigade has the best battery in the whole army."

"The regiment will go on," reported Orderly-Sergeant, "but Co. Q will
stay behind to bury the dead, gather up the arms and things, and then
bring up the brigade ammunition train."

"Stay behind to bury the dead," grumbled Shorty. "Nice business that!
Sextons to the Southern Confederacy. Hain't they got any niggers around
here that they kin set at the work?"

Nor did Si like the job. "The artillery made the muss, and now the
infantry's got to stay and clean up after it. That don't seem right."

"Well, orders is orders, and got to be obeyed," said the Orderly-
Sergeant, cutting short the discussion with the usual formulary of his
class. An Orderly-Sergeant is robbed of one of the cherished privileges
of the other enlisted men. He can not criticise or grumble, but must
stop the others from doing so beyond a certain point, and his refuge
must be the prompt assumption that the orders are all right, and must be
executed cheerfully. And he has not the satisfaction of the officers
above him in knowing the why and wherefore of the orders, and perhaps
advising as to them. He is "betwixt and between," as they say out West.

"The quicker we get at it," continued the Orderly, "the sooner it'll be
over. Serg't Klegg, take eight or 10 men and hunt around for some picks
and shovels. I think that deep trench over there behind the works 'll do
for a grave. You can shovel the bank right down on them and save hard
work. Serg't Wilson, you take eight or 10 men and gather up these pieces
o' men and lay them in there. Corp'l Jones, you take another man or two
and go around and kill those horses. Be careful how you shoot now. Don't
hurt anybody with glancing bullets. Corp'l Elliott, you take the rest
and go round and gather the guns and other things, and pile them up
there by that tree to turn over to the ordnance officer. Hustle, now,
all of you."

"They didn't think they were digging their own graves," philosophized
Monty Scruggs, as he stood shovel in hand watching the remains being
gathered into the trench.

"He digged a ditch, he digged it deep; He digged it for his brother, But
for his great sin he fell in The ditch he'd digged for t'other."

"Good, good, Monty," said Si. "That's the best thing I've heard you
spout yit. Give us some more of it."

"There isn't any more of it. The only thing I can think of is:

"The rebel Solomon Grundy; Born in Georgia on Monday; Become a rebel on
Tuesday; Run off from Buzzard's Roost on Wednesday; Got licked at Dalton
on Thursday; Worse whipped at Resaca on Friday; Blown up by a shell on
Saturday; Died and buried on Sunday; And this was the end of Solomon
Grundy."

Alf Russell's interest in anatomy had led him to join Serg't Wilson's
party in gathering up the ghastly fragments of bodies, but the sights
were too much for his nerves, and as he perceived that he was growing
sick at the stomach he went over to Shorty's squad.

It was astonishing what things they found, besides guns and equipments.
Evidently, the rebels had left quite hurriedly, and many personal
belongings were either forgotten or could not be found in the darkness.
Samples of about everything that soldiers carry, and a good many that
they are not supposed to, were found lying around. There were cooking
utensils, some on the fire, with corn-pone and meat in them; some where
the imperative orders to march found their owners with their breakfasts
half-devoured; there were hats clumsily fashioned of wisps of long-
leaved pine sewed together; there were caps which had been jaunty red-
and-blue "Zouaves" when their owners had mustered around Nashville in
1861, but had been faded and tarnished and frayed by the mud and rain at
Donelson, Shiloh and Stone River, and by the dust and grime of
Perryville and Chickamauga, until they had as little semblance to their
former perkiness as the grim-visaged war had to the picnic of capturing
ungarrisoned forts and lolling in pleasant Summer camps on the banks of
the Cumberland. There were coats of many patterns and stages of
dilapidation, telling the same story of former finery, draggled through
the injurious grime of a thousand camps and marches. There were patched
and threadbare blankets, tramped-out boots and shoes, an occasional
book, many decks of cards, and so on.

Shorty came across a new cedar canteen with bright brass hoops. He slung
it over his shoulder, with the thought that it would be a nice thing to
send back to Maria, as a souvenir of the battle. She might hang it up in
her room, or make a pin-cushion or a work-basket out of it.

Presently he came to a box of shells, which he picked up and carried
back to the tree. It was quite heavy, and when he set it down again he
felt thirsty. The canteen occurred to him. It was full. He raised it to
his lips and took a long swig.

"Great Jehosephat," he gasped, his eyes starting out with astonishment.
"That ain't water. It's prime old applejack, smoother'n butter, and
smellin' sweeter'n a rose. Best I ever tasted."

Shorty had been strictly abstinent since his return from Indiana, The
rigid views of the Klegg family as to liquor-drinking had sunk into his
heart, and somehow whenever temptation came his way the clear, far-
seeing eyes of Maria would intervene with such a reproachful glance that
the thought of yielding became repugnant.

But the smooth, creamy applejack had slipped past his lips so
unexpectedly that it possessed him, before principle could raise an
objection. Shorty was the kind of a man to whom the first drink is the
greatest danger. After he had one almost anything was likely to happen.

Still, though his blood was already warming with the exhilarating
thrill, there were some twinges of conscience.

"Now, I mustn't take no more o' that," he said to himself. "That one
drink was good and all right enough, because I really thought I was
goin' to take a drink of water when I put the canteen to my lips. I
could swear that to Maria on a stack o' Bibles high as her dear head.
God bless her!"

He began bustling about with more activity, and giving his orders in a
louder voice. He saw Pete Skidmore pick up what had been once a militia
officer's gaudy coat, and examine it curiously. He shouted at him:

"Here, drop that, drop that, you little brat. What 'd I tell you? That
you mustn't fetch a rag of anything you see in here, except with the
point o' your bayonet and with your bayonet on your gun. Drop it, I tell
you."

"Why, what's the matter with that old coat?" asked Pete in an injured
tone, astonished at Shorty's vehemence.

"Everything's the matter with it, and every stitch o' cloth you find.
They're swarmin' with rebel bugs. I've trouble enough to keep the Yankee
graybacks off you. If you git the rebel kind on you angwintum won't save
you."

Pete dropped the coat in affright.

"And you, Sandy Baker," continued Shorty in a yell, "don't you walk
through them piles o' brush and leaves, where the rebels has bin
sleepin'. You'll git covered with rebel bugs, too, and we'll never git
'em out o' the company. How often 've I got to tell you that?"

Yelling so much made him dry, and the canteen hung so invitingly near
his hand.

"I don't think another pull at that old applejack 'll hurt me a mite. I
really didn't git a square drink the first time, because I was choked
off by astonishment at findin' it wasn't water. I'll just take enough of
a swig to finish up that drink."

"Jerusalem crickets," he exclaimed, wiping his mouth, "but that's good
stuff. Wonder if bein' in cedar makes it taste so bang-up? If I though
so I'd never drink out o' anything but cedar as long's I lived. Guess
I'll keep this canteen to carry water in. I kin send Maria\x97"

He stopped. He was not so far gone as to forget that any thought of
Maria was very inappropriate to his present condition. He started to
blustering at the boys who were carrying in guns:

"Here, how often have I got to caution you galoots about bein' careful
with them guns? Don't let the muzzles pint at yourselves, nor anybody
else. They're all likely to be loaded, and go off any minute, and blow
some o' your cussed heads offen you. Don't slam 'em down that way. Be
careful with 'em, I tell you. I'll come over there and larrup some o'
you, if you don't mind me."

"What's excitin' Shorty so, to make him yell that way? wondered Si,
stopping in his shoveling down the embankment upon the rebel dead, and
wiping his hot face.

"O, he's trying to keep them fresh young kids from blowin' themselves
into Kingdom Come with the rebel guns," answered one of the veterans
indifferently, and they resumed their shoveling.

Shorty started over to where some of the boys were trying to extricate a
rebel limber abandoned in a ravine. He spied a pair of fine field
glasses lying on the ground, and picked them up with an exclamation of
delight.

"Great Jehosephat," he said, turning them over for careful inspection.
"Ain't this a puddin'? Just the thing to give the Cap. He got his
smashed with a bullet comin' through the abatis, and's bin mournin'
about 'em ever since. These is better'n his was, and he'll be ticked to
death to git 'em."

He put them to his eyes and scanned the landscape.

"Ain't they just daisies, though. Bring that teamster over there so
close that I kin hear him cussin' his mules. Cap'll have a better pair
o' glasses than the Colonel or the General has. He deserves 'em, too.
Capt. McGillicuddy's good all the way through, from skin to bone, and as
brave as they make 'em. He'll be tickleder than a boy with a new pair o'
red-topped boots. He'll invite me to take a drink with him, but he won't
have nothin' so good as this old apple-jack. I guess I'll give the rest
to him, too, for his friends at headquarters. They don't often smack
their lips over stuff like that. But I'll treat myself once more, just
as Capt. McGillicuddy'd do."

The last drink was a settler. He was then in a frame of mind for
anything\x97to tear down a mountain, or lift a hill, or to fight anybody,
with or without cause. He looked over at the boys struggling with the
limber, and yelled, as he laid his coat, hat, canteen, and cartridge-box
down on the stump upon which he had been sitting, and placed the field-
glass upon them:

"Hoopee! Yank her out o' there, boys. Yank h'er out, and don't be all
day about it, either. Let me git at her and I'll fetch her out. Stand
by, you kids, and see your uncle Eph snatch her."

He bolted in to the ravine, swung the limber-tongue about, and with aid
of the rest, stirred to united effort by much profane vociferation on
his part, disengaged the limber and trundled it up the bank.

The tall, very stiff young Aid, with whom Si and Shorty had had the
previous affair, came stalking on to the ground, viewing everything with
his usual cold, superior, critical gaze.

"You are doing well, my man," he remarked to Shorty, "but too much
noise. A non-commissioned officer must not swear at his men. It's
strictly against regulations."

"Go to blazes," said Shorty, scarcely under his breath. The Aid picked
up the field-glasses, looked at them a minute, scanned the field with
them, and then looked around for the case, as if to appropriate them
himself.

"Here, drop them," said Shorty roughly. "Them's mine."

"How did they come to be yours, sir?" said the Aid sternly. "Picked them
up, didn't you?"

"None o' your business how I got 'em. They're mine, I tell you. Give 'em
to me."

"You picked them up on the battlefield, sir. They are military
equipments which you must turn over to the proper officer. I'll take
charge of them myself."

"You'll do nothin' o' the kind," roared Shorty, striding up to him.
"Give me them glasses."

"I shall do nothing of the kind," said the Aid sternly. "Don't you dare
approach me in that w-ay. Go back to your duties at once. I shall punish
you for disrespect to me and threatening an officer. Fall back, sir, I
tell you."

Shorty made a grab for the glasses, which the Aid tried to evade, but
Shorty fixed his firm clutch upon them. The Aid held on tightly, but
Shorty wrenched them from his grasp.

"You bob-tailed brevet West Pointer," said Shorty savagely, raising his
fist, "I've a notion to break you in two for tryin' to beat me out o'
what's mine. Git out o' here, or I'll\x97"

"Shorty! Shorty! Stop that!" shouted Si, rushing over to his partner,
and catching his back-drawn fist. He had been suspicious as to the cause
of his partner's noisiness, and ran up as soon as the disturbance began.
"Stop it, I say. Are you crazy?"

Poor little Pete, badly excited as to what was happening to his best
friend, was nervously fumbling his gun and eyeing the Aid.

"Si Klegg, go off and mind your own business, and let me attend to
mine," yelled Shorty, struggling to free himself from his partner's iron
grasp. "Am I goin' to be run over by every pin-feather snipe from West
Point? I'll break him in two."

"Sergeant," commanded the Aid, reaching to take the field-glasses from
Shorty's hand; "buck and gag that man at once. Knock him down if he
resists. Knock him down, I say."

"You tend to your own business and I'll tend to mine. Go away from here,
and don't say anything to make him madder, you wasp-waisted errand boy,"
said Si savagely, as he thrust himself in between the Aid and Shorty.
"I've got enough to do to take care of him. Go off, if you don't want
him to mash you."

Little Pete had an idea. He wriggled in between, snatched the glasses,
and made off with them.

The Brigade Provost-Marshal rode up and sternly demanded what the
disturbance was about. Shorty began a hot harrangue against young staff
officers generally, and this particular offender, but Si got his arm
across his mouth and muffled his speech. The Provost listened to the
Aid's bitter indictment against both Si and Shorty.

"Put both those men under arrest," he said to the Orderly-Sergeant, "and
make a list of the witnesses. I'll court-martial them at the first
halting place."



CHAPTER XX. SHORTY IS ARRAIGNED BEFORE THE COURT-MARTIAL.

TO REST, refit after the sharp fighting and marching, and to wait for
the slightly wounded and other convalescents to come up, the brigade
went into camp on the banks of the Oostenaula River, near Calhoun, Ga.,
and about 20 miles south of Dalton, which had been the objective at the
opening of the campaign.

And while the men were washing and mending their clothes, it was decided
to put the discipline of the brigade, which had suffered similarly by
the rough campaign, through a somewhat like process of furnishing and
renovation.

A court-martial was ordered, "to try such cases as may be brought before
it."

The court convened with all the form and ceremony prescribed by the Army
Regulations for tribunals which pass judgment upon the pay, honor and
lives of officers and men.

The officers detailed for the court sent back to the baggage wagons, and
got their wrinkled dress-suits out of the valises, they buttoned these
to their throats, donned their swords, sashes and white gloves, and
gathered stiffly and solemnly about a long, rough table, which had been
put up under the spreading limbs of giant oaks. Guards pacing at a
little distance kept all the curious and inquisitive out of earshot. The
camp gossips, full of interest as to the fate of those who were to be
tried, could see an aggravating pantomime acted out, but hear no word.

A squad of offenders of various degrees of turpitude ranging from
absence without leave to sleeping on post, were huddled together under
the Provost Guard, while Si and Shorty, being non-commissioned officers,
were allowed to remain with their company, to be produced by Capt.
McGillicuddy when wanted. They kept themselves rigidly apart from the
rest of the company, repelling the freely-offered sympathy of their
comrades. Si was most deeply concerned about Shorty, who was so
desperate over his fall from grace, that he regretted that he had not
killed the young Aid, while he was at him, so as to have relieved his
comrades of him, and made his own condemnation and execution sure.

"Old Maj. Truax, of the 1st Oshkosh, is President of the court," said
the Orderly-Sergeant, as the company was anxiously canvassing the boys'
chances.

"Gosh, that settles it," groaned Jerry Wilkinson; "that old bull o' the
woods 'd rather shoot a man than not. He's always lookin' around for
some excuse for sculping a man, and the less he has the savager he is."

"I don't believe it," said the Orderly, "I've watched old Truax, when
he's been roaring around, and I always found that he was after somebody
that deserved it. Men of that kind are pretty certain to be very soft on
good soldiers, like Si and Shorty, and I think he's all right. The boys
of the 1st Oshkosh all swear by him, and you can trust a man's own
regiment to know him surer than anybody else. And then there's Capts.
Suter and Harris, of the Maumee Muskrats."

"Terrible strict," muttered Jerry despairingly.

"Lieuts. Newton and Bonesteel, of the Kankakees," continued the Orderly.

"Good men\x97promoted from the ranks, and remember that they once carried a
gun themselves."

"Lieut. McJimsey, of the staff."

"A wasp-waisted West Pointer, raw from school; thinks he's learned all
there's to know about war out of a book on triggernometry. Has no more
feelin' for a private soljer than I have for a mule. Calls 'em 'my men,'
roared Jerry.

"And as he's only a Second Lieutenant he'll have the first vote," sighed
the Orderly. "And Lieut. Bowersox is to be the Judge-Advocate. He'll
have to do the prosecuting. I know he hates the job. He thinks the world
and all of Si and Shorty, but he's the kind of a man to do his duty
without fear, favor or affection. And all of us 'll have to testify.
Dumb Shorty's fool soul! Why didn't he get up his ruction somewhere
where the boys couldn't see him, and know nothing about it! I've no
patience with him or Si."

Lieut. Steigermeyer, the complainant, stalked by in solemn dignity.

"Can't I shoot that dod-blasted Aid, and save Shorty, and take it all on
myself?" blubbered little Pete, who had been in tears ever since he had
seen the grave assemblage of officers in full dress.

Shorty Before the Court-martial. 257

"Shut up, you little fool," said the Orderly savagely. In the
selfishness of his sorrow it made him angry to see anybody else show
more grief than his.

The Orderly, in stating Lieut. Bowersox's position, forgot, or was not
aware of the fact, that while the Judge-Advocate represents the
Government at a trial as the Prosecuting Attorney, he is also the
counsel for the defense; a dual role which has important and frequently
unexpected results.

After the members were duly seated according to rank, with Maj. Truax at
the head of the table, Lieut. Bowersox read the order for holding the
court, and called the names of the members. He then said:

"Gentlemen, the first case I shall present to your notice is one of
exceeding gravity, affecting a member of my own regiment. As it is the
most important case that you shall have to consider, I thought it best
that it should be disposed of first. Sergeant, bring in Corp'l William
L. Elliott, Co. Q, 200th Ind. Volunteer Infantry."

Shorty entered the court with an air of extreme depression in face and
manner, instead of the usual confident self-assertion which seemed to
flow from every look and motion. He stood with eyes fixed upon the
ground.

"Prisoner," said Lieut. Bowersox, "this court has met to try you. Look
around upon the members, and see if there is any one to whom you have
objection. If so, state it."

Shorty glanced listlessly from the head of the table toward the foot.
There his eye rested on the Second Lieutenant for a minute, and then he
muttered to himself, "No, he's no worse than the rest ought to be on
me," and shook his head in answer to the Judge-Advocate's formal
question.

"You will each of you rise, hold up your right hand and be sworn," said
the Judge-Advocate, and they each pronounced after him the prolix and
ponderous oath prescribed by the regulations:

"You, Maj. Benjamin Truax, do swear that you will well and truly try and
determine, according to evidence, the matter now before you, between the
United States of America and the prisoner to be tried, and that you will
duly administer justice, according to the provisions of an act
establishing rules and articles for the government of the armies of the
United States, without partiality, favor or affection; and if any doubt
shall arise, not explained by said articles, according to your
understanding and the custom of war in such cases. And you do further
swear, that you will not divulge the sentence of the court, until it
shall be published by proper authority; neither will you disclose or
discover the vote or opinion of any particular member of the court-
martial, unless required to give evidence thereof, as a witness, by a
court of justice in due course of law. So help you God."

The President then took the book and administered the same oath to the
Judge-Advocate.

"I shall now read the charges and specifications," said the Judge-
Advocate, "which are as follows, and he read with sonorous
impressiveness:

CHARGE:\x97Insulting, Threatening, and Striking Superior Officer.

Specification I.\x97That Corp'l William L. Elliott, Co. Q, 200th Ind. Vol.
Inf., did strike and perform other physical violence upon Second Lieut.
Adolph Steigermeyer, of the Second Corps, U. S. Engr's, who was his
superior officer, and in the performance of his duty, in violation of
the 9th Article of War, and contrary to the discipline of the Armies of
the United States. This on the march of the army from Dalton, Ga., to
Calhoun, Ga., and on the 16th day of May, 1864.

Specification II.\x97That said Corp'l William I.. Elliott, Co. Q, 200th
Ind. Vol. Inf., did threaten physical violence to the said Second Lieut,
Adolph Steigermeyer, Second Corps, U. S. Engr's, his superior officer,
and who was in the performance of his duty, contrary to the 9th Article
of War, and the discipline of the Armies of the United States. This on
the march of the army from Dalton, Ga., to Calhoun, Ga., and on the 16th
day of May, 1864.

Specification III.\x97That said Corp'l William L. Elliott, Co. Q, 200th
Ind. Vol. Inf., did insult with many opprobrious words, the said Adolph
Steigermeyer, Second Corps, U. S. Engr's, his superior officer, in the
presence of many enlisted men, in violation of the 6th Article of War
and of the discipline of the Armies of the United States. This on the
march of the army from Dalton, Ga., to Calhoun, Ga., and on the 16th day
of May, 1864.

CHARGE:\x97Drunkenness on duty.

Specification I.\x97That said Corp'l William L. Elliott, Co. Q, 200th Ind.
Vol. Inf., being then on duty, and in command of a squad of men, was
openly and noisily intoxicated and drunk, and incapable of performing
said duty, in violation of the 45th Article of war, and the discipline
of the Armies of the United States. This on the march of the army from
Dalton, Ga., to Calhoun, Ga., and on the 16th day of May, 1864.

CHARGE 3.\x97Misappropriating Public Property.

Specification I.\x97That said Corp'l William L. Elliott, being charged with
the duty of gathering up and accounting for the property captured from
and abandoned by the enemy, did appropriate to himself, attempt to
conceal, and refuse to deliver to his superior officer a portion
thereof, to wit, one pair of field glasses, in violation of the 58th
Article of War, and contrary to the discipline of the Armies of the
United States. This on the march of the enemy from Dalton, Ga., to
Calhoun, Ga., and on the 16th day of May, 1864.

"O, goodness gracious!" murmured little Pete Skidmore, almost fainting
with terror, in the covert of oak leaves, just above the court's head,
whither he had noiselessly climbed, to overhear everything. "He's a-
goner, sure! They'll shoot him, sure as guns. Saltpeter won't save him.
He's broke every Article o' War in the whole book. My, what will I do?"

He slipped down and communicated his information to the anxiously-
expectant comrades of Co. Q.

"It mayn't be as bad as we expect," the Orderly-Sergeant tried to
console them. "The bite of most of them regulations and charges and
specifications ain't never near as bad as their bark. If they were, a
good many of us would have been shot long ago. My experience in the
army's been that the regulations are like the switches the teachers used
to have in school\x97a willow for the good scholars, and a stout hickory
for the bad ones. Still, I'm afraid that Shorty won't get off with less
than hard labor for life on the fortifications."

"Prisoner, you have heard the charges and specifications," said Lieut.
Bowersox, in a stern voice. "How do you plead to them?"

"O, I'm guilty\x97guilty o' the whole lot," said Shorty dejectedly.

"Inasmuch," said Lieut. Bowersox, with an entire change of tone, "as it
is my duty to represent the prisoner's interests as counsel, I shall
disregard his plea, and enter one of not guilty."

Shorty started to gasp. "But I done all that\x97"

"Silence," thundered Lieut. Bowersox, "you are only to speak, sir, when
I or some other member of the court ask you a question."

"But has the Judge-Advocate the right to disregard the plain plea?"
Lieut. McJimsey started to inquire, when the President interrupted with,

"Lieutenant, we can have no discussion of the court's practices in the
presence of the prisoner. If you want to enter upon that we shall have
to clear the court. Do you desire that?"

There was something in the bluff old Major's tone that made the
Lieutenant think this inadvisable, and he signified the negative.

"Call your first witness, then, Judge-Advocate," said Maj. Truax, with a
wave of his hand.

Lieut. Steigermeyer, in full-dress, even to epaulets, rigidly erect and
sternly important as to look, testified that he was a Second Lieutenant
in the Regular Army, but had the staff rank of Captain and Inspector-
General, and after going out of his way to allude to the laxness of
discipline he found prevailing in the Western armies, testified that on
the day mentioned, while in pursuance of his duty, he was going over the
battlefield, he came upon the prisoner, whose drunken yelling attracted
his attention; that he had admonished him, and received insults in
reply.

"My way is to knock a man down, when he gives me any back talk,"
remarked the Major, sotto voce, taking a fresh chew of tobacco. "That's
better than court-martialing to promote discipline."

"Further admonitions," continued the Lieutenant, "had the same result,
and I was about to call a guard to put him under arrest, when I happened
to notice a pair of field-glasses that the prisoner had picked up, and
was evidently intending to appropriate to his own use, and not account
for them. This was confirmed by his approaching me in a menacing manner,
insolently demanding their return, and threatening me in a loud voice if
I did not give them up, which I properly refused to do, and ordered a
Sergeant who had come up to seize and buck-and-gag him. The Sergeant,
against whom I shall appear later, did not obey my orders, but seemed to
abet his companion's gross insubordination. The scene finally
culminated, in the presence of a number of enlisted men, in the
prisoner's wrenching the field-glasses away from me by main force, and
would have struck me had not the Sergeant prevented this. It was such an
act as in any other army in the world would have subjected the offender
to instant execution. It was only possible in\x97"

"Pardon me, Lieutenant\x97I should perhaps say Captain"\x97interrupted Lieut.
Bowersox, with much sweetness of manner, "but the most of us are
familiar with your views as to the inferiority of the discipline of the
Western Armies to that of the Army of the Potomac and European armies,
so that we need not take up the' time of the court with its reiteration.
What farther happened?"

"Nothing. The Provost Guard came up at that moment, and I directed a
Sergeant to place the two principal offenders in custody, and secure the
names of the witnesses."

"Is that all, Captain?"

"Yes, except that in closing my testimony I feel that it is my duty to
impress upon the court that so flagrant a case as this should be made
the opportunity for an example in the interests of discipline in the
whole army. I have known this prisoner for some time, and watched him.
This is not the first time that he and the Sergeant have insulted me.
They are leaders in that class of uneducated fellows who have entirely
too little respect for officers and gentlemen. They should be taught a
lesson. This is necessary for the dignity and effectiveness of gentlemen
who bear commissions, and\x97"

"I will ask the witness if this lecture on military ethics is a part of
his testimony?" asked the Major:

"I think it is needed," answered the Lieutenant tartly.

"Let me see, Steigermeyer," said the Major, adjusting another chew of
tobacco to his mouth, and balancing the knife with which he had cut it
off, judicially in his fingers, a favorite position of his when, as a
lawyer, he was putting a witness through a cross-examination. "How long
have you been with this army? Came West with the Eleventh Corps, didn't
you?"

"No; I was left behind on duty. I didn't come for several weeks after."

"So I thought. You weren't with us at Stone River, or Chickamauga, or
Mission Ridge. You'd know more if you had been. Your mental horizon
would have been enlarged, so to speak. Aren't you from Milwaukee?"

"I was born and brought up there, until I went to West Point," answered
the Lieutenant, rather uneasily.

"So I thought. The only man of your name that I ever heard of kept a
saloon in Milwaukee\x97a great place for politicians to hang around. I used
to go there myself when I was in politics. He was a sort of a ward boss.
Was he your father?"

"Yes, sir," said the Lieutenant, with reddening face; "but I don't know
what this has to do with the case that I have presented to your
attention."

"It has a great deal to do with this lecture with which you have favored
us," answered the Major dryly. "But we'll not discuss that in open
court. Are you through with the witness, Judge-Advocate? If so, call the
next."

"I'll just ask the Captain a few questions for the defense," said Lieut.
Bowersox. "How did you know that the prisoner was drunk?"

"How did I know it? How does any man know that another is drunk? He was
boisterous, excited and yelling\x97that kind of a drunk."

"But that does not prove that he was drunk. That may be his way of doing
his work. Did you see him drink?"

"No."

"Did you ever see him before?"

"Yes."

"How was he acting then?"

"I shall have to say that he was boisterous and yelling then, but not so
wildly excited."

"Then it was only a difference in degree, not kind. Was he not
accomplishing what he was ordered to do?"

"Yes, he certainly did bring that limber out of the gulch."

"Then it is only a matter of opinion that he was drunk. You have nothing
to guide you except your judgment that the man was drunk, who was still
doing his duty pretty effectively."

"But there could be no mistake. I know that the man was raging drunk."

"As I said before, that is a matter of opinion and judgment which I will
discuss with the court later. Did the prisoner actually strike you?"

"I cannot say that he actually did, farther than snatch out of my hand
the field-glasses."

"He didn't do it! You're lyin'! I yanked the glasses out of your hand.
'Twas me," shouted little Pete, from the oak leaves.

The members all looked up in astonishment.

"Sergeant," said the Major to the Sergeant of the Provost Guard, "fetch
that little rascal down and buck-an-gag him, until I can decide what
further punishment he deserves for eavesdropping, and interrupting the
court."

"I don't care if you kill me," whimpered little Pete, as they tied his
hands together, "if you'll only let Corp'l Elliott off. He wasn't to
blame. It was me.

"You can go," said Lieut. Bowersox to the Lieutenant. "Sergeant, bring
in Orderly-Sergeant Jacob Whitelaw."

In response to the Judge-Advocate's direct questionings the Orderly-
Sergeant had to sorrowfully admit that he thought that Shorty was drunk,
very drunk, and exceedingly noisy. But when Lieut. Bowersox changed to
the defense, the Orderly-Sergeant testified with great alacrity that he
had not seen Shorty take a drink, that he did not know where he could
have got whisky; did not know where in all that part of Georgia there
was a drop of liquor outside of the Surgeon's stores and the officers'
canteens; that he wished he did know, for he'd like to have a drink
himself; and that Shorty, when he was putting forth his greatest
strength, was generally very vociferous and not at all careful of what
he said. This was one of the peculiarities of the man, that he was
overlooked on account of his great effectiveness on the men when in that
state.

The other members of the company testified in the same way, giving their
belief even more emphatically against any liquor being found anywhere in
that neighborhood, and the unlikelihood of Shorty's being able to obtain
any. The other members of the court had "caught on" very quickly to the
tactics of the President and Judge-Advocate. All except Lieut. McJimsey,
whose prepossessions were decidedly and manifestly in favor of the
attitude of his brother staff officer. He grew stiffer and more dogged
as the case proceeded, and frequently asked embarrassing questions. The
Judge-Advocate announced that "the case was closed, and the court would
be cleared for deliberation.

"Before you open, Judge-Advocate," said Maj. Truax significantly, "I
want to say something, not as a member of this court, but something
between gentlemen, and I want to say it before we begin our
deliberations, in order that it shall not be considered as part of them,
or influencing them. The lecture by that self-sufficient fellow on our
duties makes me tired. I remember his father\x97he sold the meanest whisky
to be found in Milwaukee. I want to say right here that no man who sells
lager beer can sell whisky fit for gentlemen to drink. Beer corrupts his
taste, mind and judgment. Old Steigermeyer had a good deal of political
influence of a certain kind, and he bulldozed the Representative from
his District into giving his son an appointment to West Point. Now this
young upstart comes around and absolutely lectures us who have always
been gentlemen, and our fathers before us, on gentlemanliness. It was
hard for me to keep from saying something right before him about the
quality of whisky his father used to sell. I can stand a good deal, but
the idea of a ginmill keeper's son lording it over others and over
enlisted men who came of much better stock than he does sticks in my
craw. Now, whenever I find one of these whose father got his appointment
as Steigermeyer's father did (and the old Major's eye wandered down to
where Lieut. McJimsey's air of sternness had given way to visible
unrest) I'm tempted to say unpleasant things. Now, Judge-Advocate,
proceed."

"The evidence in this case," said Lieut. Bowersox, with the severity
proper to a vindicator of justice, "shows that it was a very flagrant
breach of the essentials of discipline, and deserves stern treatment. A
man wearing the chevrons of a Corporal, has, in the presence of a number
of enlisted men, behaved in the most unseemly manner, showed gross
disobedience to his superior officer, reviled him with opprobrious
epithets, threatened to strike him, and actually did strike him. On the
other hand (and the Lieutenant's tone changed to that of counsel for the
defense), we all of us know that the prisoner is an excellent soldier of
long service, that his influence has always been for the best, and that
he was promoted to Corporal as an exceptional compliment for his part in
capturing a rebel flag at Chickamauga, where he was wounded and left for
dead on the field. It is for you, gentlemen, to take all these facts
into consideration, and determine how men of this stamp should be dealt
with for the best interests of the service. The evidence against him is
in many respects conflicting, and rests upon mere judgment, in which the
best of us are liable to err. I will not detain you farther, gentlemen."

"You say this prisoner was promoted for capturing a rebel flag at
Chickamauga?" asked Maj. Truax, who was perfectly aware of the fact, but
wanted to emphasize it upon the others.

"Yes," said Lieut. Bowersox, only too glad of the opportunity. "I saw it
all. Gallant a thing as was ever done. Simply magnificent. Thrills me to
think about it. I tell you that fellow's a soldier all the way through.

"That was before this Stiegermeyer fellow and a lot of other fellows
(and again his eyes wandered carelessly down toward Lieut. McJimsey) had
even joined us. I remember him also bringing up ammunition to his
regiment at Stone River. He is one of those fellows that you can send to
the rear, and always be sure that he'll come back as fast as his feet
can carry him. I don't want to influence any member of this court, but
the evidence that we have heard don't go an inch toward convincing me
that he was drunk, or struck at his superior officer. There was some
mistake, always liable to excited men. Lieut. McJimsey, you are the
junior officer present. It is your right to speak and vote first. Let us
hear from you."

The Lieutenant seemed to have recovered his sternness, and his
expression showed a determination to wreak exemplary punishment on the
man who had so grievously offended one of his class.

"It is clear to me," he began in a hard, set tone, "that an example
should be made. These low, brutal fellows\x97"

"When I lived in Chicago," broke in the Major, in a conversational tone,
apparently forgetful that he had called upon the Lieutenant to speak,
but fixing a very piercing blue eye upon him, "I used to mix up a good
deal with the boys who hung around a saloon kept by a ward politician,
an unscrupulous, noisy, driving fellow named\x97But excuse me. Lieutenant,
I forgot for the moment that I had called upon you to speak."

The Lieutenant's face had undergone a remarkable change, and as he sank
back in his seat, he said in a forced voice:

"In consideration solely of the previous excellent character of the
prisoner, I vote not guilty on all the charges and specifications, but
with a distinct warning to the man as to the future."

"So do I!" "So do I!" said the rest, one after another, so quickly that
it was almost a chorus.

"Judge-Advocate," said Maj. Truax, "when the General approves this
finding, and you communicate it to prisoner, whisper in his ear that if
he ever strains us this way again I'll take it upon myself to break his
fool neck. Let him look a little out."

"The next case I have is that of Serg't Josiah Klegg, implicated in the
same affair," said Lieut. Bowersox.

"Since we have acquitted the principal, it would be foolish to try the
accessory," said Maj. Truax. "Say the same thing to him. Now, let's get
down to business. Bring in that man that skulked when the boys were
going for that abatis. I want to make an example of him, for the good of
the service."





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