"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--"
"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--three 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--nothin' 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--same 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--nothing 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!--March!"
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!--March!"
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--I 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!--March!"
But the rain was nearer that Si thought. It came, as the Spring rains
come in the North Georgia mountains--as 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!"
[Illustration: 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."