"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—'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'—"

"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—"

"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..