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--that 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--brung 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--that 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--a
hatful. Powder and lead costs a heap o' money. And so do caps."
[Illustration: 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--stand 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--very 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."