Meanwhile Si had strolled over a little ways to where an old worm fence

had stood when the regiment went into camp. Now only the chunks at the

corners remained. He looked a minute, and then gave a yell of delight.

"Here, Shorty," he called out; "here's something that beats your fried

breakfasts all holler. Here's ripe blackberries till you can't rest, and

the biggest, finest ones you ever saw. Come over here, and you can pick

all you can eat in five minutes."

He began picking and eating with the greatest industry. Shorty walked

over and followed his example.

"They are certainly the finest blackberries I ever saw," he agreed.

"Strange that we didn't notice them before. This country ain't no good

for nothin' else, but it surely kin beat the world on blackberries. Hi,

there! Git out, you infernal brute!"

This latt'er remark was addressed to a long-legged, mangy hound that had

suddenly appeared from no where, and was nosing around their breakfast

with appreciative sniffs. Shorty made a dive for him, but he cleaned out

the half-canteen at one comprehensive gulp, and had put a good-sized

farm between him and the fire before Shorty reached it. That gentleman

fairly danced with rage, and swore worse than a teamster, but the

breakfast was gone beyond recovery. The other boys yelled at and gibed

him, but they were careful to do it at a safe distance.

"'Twasn't much of a breakfast, after all, Shorty," said Si, consolingly.

"The crackers was moldly and the pork full o' maggots, and the Surgeon

has warned us time and again against eatin' them greasy fried messes.

All the doctors say that blackberries is very healthy, and they

certainly taste nice."

Shorty's paroxysm of rage expended itself, and he decided it wisest to

accept Si's advice.

"The berries is certainly fine, Si," he said with returning good humor.

"If I could've only laid a foundation of crackers and meat I could've

built a very good breakfast out of 'em. I misdoubt, though, whether

they've got enough substance and stick-to-the-ribs to make a meal out of

all by themselves. However, I'll fill up on 'em, and hope they'll last

till a grub-cart gets through. There ought to be one here before noon."

"One consolation," said Si; "we won't have to march on this peck. The

Adjutant's just passed the word that we're to rest here a day or two."

The rest of the regiment were similarly engaged in browsing off the

blackberries that grew in wonderful profusion all around, and were

really of extraordinary size. After filling themselves as full as

possible of the fruit, Si and Shorty secured a couple of camp kettles

and gave their garments a boiling that partially revenged themselves

upon the insect life of Tennessee for the torments they endured in the

Tullahoma campaign.

"The better the day the better the deed," remarked Shorty, as he and Si

stood around the fire, clothed in nothing but their soldierly character,

and satisfiedly poked their clothes down in the scalding water.

"Thousands must die that one may be free from graybacks, fleas, and

ticks. How could be better celebrated the Fourth of July than by the

wholesale slaughter of the tyrants who drain the life-blood of freemen

and patriots? Now, that's a sentiment that would be fine for your orator

who is making a speech about this time to your folks in Injianny."

By this time they were hungry again. The black berries had no staying

power in proportion to their filling qualities, and anxiously as they

watched the western horizon, no feet of the mules bringing rations had

been seen beautiful on the mountains.

They went out and filled up again on blackberries, but these seemed to

have lost something of their delicious taste of those eaten earlier in

the morning.

They went back, wrung out their clothes, and put them on again.

"They'll fit better if they dry on us," remarked Shorty. "And I'm afraid

we'll warp, splinter and check if we are exposed to this sun any longer

after all the soakin' we've bin havin' for the past 10 days."

Comfortably full abdominally, with a delicious sense of relief from the

fiendish insects, the sun shining once more brightly in the sky, and

elated over the brilliant success of the campaign, they felt as happy as

it often comes to men.

The scenery was inspiring. Beyond Elk River the romantic Cumberland

Mountains raised their picturesque peaks and frowning cliffs into a

wondrous cloud-world, where the radiant sunshine and the pearly showers

seemed in endless struggle for dominion, with the bright rainbows for

war-banners. When the sunshine prevailed, filmy white clouds flags of

truce floated lazily from peak to peak, and draped themselves about the

rugged rocks. It was an ever-changing panorama of beauty and mystery,

gazing on which the eye never wearied.

"Bragg's somewhere behind them mountains, Shorty," said Si, as the two

lay on the ground, smoked, and looked with charmed eyes on the sky line.

"The next job's to go in there and find him and lick him."

"I don't care a durn, if it's only dry weather," answered Shorty. "I kin

stand anything but rain. I'd like to soldier awhile in the Sahara Desert

for a change. Hello, what's that? A fight?"

A gun had boomed out loudly. The boys pricked up their ears, took their

pipes from their mouths and half raised in anticipation of the bugle-

call. An other shot followed after an interval, and then a third and

fourth.

"They're firing a National salute at Division Headquarters in honor of

the Fourth of July," explained the Orderly-Sergeant.

Everybody jumped to his feet and cheered

Cheered for the Fourth of July;

Cheered for the United States of America;

Cheered for President Abraham Lincoln;

Cheered for Maj.-Gen. Wm. S. Rosecrans.

Cheered for the Army of the Cumberland;

Cheered for the Corps Commander;

Cheered for the Division Commander;

Cheered for the Brigadier-General;

Cheered for the Colonel of the 200th Ind.;

Cheered for their Royal Selves.

"Whew, how hungry that makes me," said Shorty as the cheering and the

firing ended, and he studied the western horizon anxiously. "And not a

sign yit of any mule-team comin' up from the rear. They must have

religious scruples agin travelin' on the Fourth o' July. Well, I s'pose

there's nothin' to do but hunt up some more blackberries. But

blackberries is like mush. They don't seem to stay with you much

longer'n you're eatin' 'em."

But they had to go much farther now to find blackberries. The whole

hungry regiment had been hunt ing blackberries all day, and for more

than a mile around camp the briers were bare. Si and Shorty succeeded at

last in finding another plentiful patch, upon which they filled up, and

returned to camp for another smoke and an impatient look for the

Commissary teams.

"I like blackberries as well as any other man," mused Shorty, "but it

don't seem to me that last lot was nearly so good as the first we had

this morning. Mebbe the birds kin eat 'em four times a day and seven

days in the week without gittin' tired, but I ain't much of a bird,

myself. I'd like to change off just now to about six big crackers, a

pound o' fat pork and a quart o' coffee. Wonder if the rebel cavalry

could've got around in our rear and jumped our trains? No; 'Joe

Wheeler's critter company,' as that rebel called 'em, hain't quit

runnin' yit from the lickin' Minty give 'em at Shelbyville. Mebbe the

mules have struck. I'd 'a' struck years ago if I'd bin a mule."

The sun began to sink toward the western hills, and still no welcome

sign of coming wagons.

Si remarked despairingly:

"Well, after all the berry-eatin' I've done to-day I feel as holler as a

bee-gum. I don't believe any wagons'll git up to-night, and if we're

goin' to have any supper at all we'd better go out and pick it before it

gits too dark to see."

They had to go a long distance out this time to find a good berry patch.

It was getting dark be fore they fairly began picking their supper.

Presently they heard voices approaching from the other side. They

crouched down a little behind the brier-clumps and listened.

"Be keerful. The Yankee pickets must be nigh. Thar's their campfires."

"Pshaw. Them fires is two miles away. Thar's no pickets fur a mile yit.

Go ahead."

"No sich thing. Them fires ain't a mile off.

"Their pickets are likely right along that 'ere ridge thar."

"Bushwhackers," whispered Si, rising a little to reconnoiter. "One, two,

three, four, five, six on 'em. Sneakin' up to pick off our pickets.

What'd we better do?"

"Only thing I kin think of," whispered Shorty back, feeling around for a

stick that would represent a gun, "is the old trick of ordering 'em to

surrender. It's an awful bluff, but we may work it this time. If they've

got any grit we needn't worry no more about rations. They'll git us."

Si snatched up a piece of rail, and they sprang up together, shouting:

"Halt! Surrender! Don't move a hand or we'll blow your heads off."

"All right, Yank. We surrender. Don't shoot. We'uns 've bin a-huntin'

yo'uns to gin ourselves up. We'uns is tired o' the wah."

The Bluff Worked 107

"The thunder you do," said Si in amazement.

"Yes," said the leader, walking forward; "we'uns is plumb sick o' the

wah, and want t' take the oath and go home. 'Deed we'uns do."

"Well, you liked to 've scared two fine young soldiers to death,"

murmured Si under his breath.

"Halt, there," called out the suspicious Shorty.

"Don't come any nearer, or I'll fire. Stand still, and hold your guns

over your heads, till I send a man out to git 'em."

The rebels obediently held their guns in the air.

"Sergeant," commanded Shorty, "go forward and relieve the men of their

arms, while the rest of us keep 'em kivvered to prevent treachery and

gittin' the drop on us."

Si went out and took the guns, one by one, from the hands of the men,

and made as good an examination as he could, hastily, to see that they

carried nothing else.

"Lordy, Yank, if you only knowed how powerful glad we'uns is to git to

yo'uns, you wouldn't 'spicion us. We'uns 's nigh on to starved t' death.

Hain't had nothin' to eat but blackberries for days. And hit's bin

march, march, all the time, right away from we'uns's homes. Goramighty

only knows whar ole Bragg's a-gwine tuh. Mebbe t' Cuby. We'uns wuz

willin' t' fout fur ole Tennessee, but for nary other State. When he

started out o' Tennessee we'uns jest concluded t' strike out and leave

him. Lordy, Mister, hain't you got something t' eat? We'uns is jest

starvin' t' death. 'Deed we'uns is."

"Awful sorry," replied Shorty, as he and Si gathered up the guns and

placed themselves behind the group. "But we hain't nothin' to eat

ourselves but blackberries, and won't have till our wagons git up, which

'll be the Lord and Gen. Rosecrans only knows when. You shall have it

when we kin git it. Hello, the boys are cheerin'. That means a wagon's

got in. Skip out, now, at a quarter-hoss gait. They may gobble it all up

before we git there."

Inspired by this, they all started for camp in quick-time. Shorty was

right in interpreting the cheering to mean the arrival of a ration-

wagon.

When they reached Co. Q they found the Orderly-Sergeant standing over a

half-box of crackers.

Around him was gathered the company in a petulant state of mind.

"Cuss and swear, boys, all you've a mind to," he was saying, "if you

think that'll swell your grub. You know it won't. Only one wagon's come

up, and it had only a half-load. Our share in it is what you see here. I

figure that there's just about one cracker apiece for you, and as I call

your names you'll step up and get it. Don't swear at me. I've done the

best I could. Cuss the Tennessee mud and freshets in the cricks all you

want to, if you think that'll fill your crops, but let me alone, or I'll

bust somebody."

"I've my opinion o' the glorious Fourth o' July," said Shorty, as he

nibbled moodily at his solitary cracker. "I'll change my politics and

vote for Thanksgiving Day and Christmas after this."

"Well, I think that we've had a pretty fine Fourth," said the more

cheerful Si. "For once in my life I've had all the blackberries I could

eat, and otherwise it's a pleasant day. Them deserters gave me a cold

chill at first, but I'm glad we got 'em. There'll certainly be more

wagons up to-night, and to-morrow we'll have all we kin eat."

And that night, for the first in 10 days, they slept under dry blankets.

CHAPTER IX. A LITTLE EPISODE OVER LOVE LETTERS.

HOW exuberantly bright, restful, and happy were those long July days on

the foothills of the Cumberland Mountains, after the fatigues and

hardships, the endless rains, the fathom less mud, the angry, swollen

streams, the exhaust ing marches, and the feverish anxieties of the

Tullahoma campaign.

The insolent, threatening enemy had retreated far across the mountain

barrier. For the while he was out of reach of striking or being struck.

The long-delayed commissary-wagons had come up, and there was an

abundance to eat. The weather was delightful, the forests green, shady

and inviting, the scenery picturesque and inspiring, and every day

brought news of glorious Union victories, over which the cannon boomed

in joyful salutes and the men cheered themselves hoarse. Grant had taken

Vicksburg, with 25,000 prisoners, and chased Joe Johnston out of sight

and knowledge. Prentiss had bloodily repulsed Sterling Price at Helena.

Banks had captured Port Hudson, with 6,000 prisoners. The Mississippi

River at last "flowed unvexed to the sea." Meade had won a great victory

at Gettysburg, and Lee's beaten army was in rapid retreat to Virginia.

"The blasted old Southern Confederacy is certainly havin' its

underpinnin' knocked out, its j'ints cracked, and its roof caved in,"

remarked Si, as the two boys lay under the kindly shade of a low-growing

jackoak, lazily smoked their pipes, and gazed contentedly out over the

far-spreading camps, in which no man was doing anything more laborious

than gathering a little wood to boil his evening coffee with. "'Tain't

fit to store brick-bats in now. By-and-by we'll go out and hunt up old

Bragg and give him a good punch, and the whole crazy shebang 'll come

down with a crash."

"I only wish old Bragg wasn't of sich a retirin' nature," lazily

commented Shorty. "The shade o' this tree is good enough for me. I don't

want to ever leave it. Why couldn't he've waited for me, and we could've

had it out here, coolly and pleasantly, and settled which was the best

man! The thing' d bin over, and each feller could've gone about his

business."

Both relapsed into silence as each fell into day dreams the one about a

buxom, rosy-cheeked little maiden in the Valley of the Wabash; the other

of one in far-off Wisconsin, whom he had never seen, but whom he

mentally endowed with all the virtues and charms that his warmest

imagination could invest a woman. Neither could see a woman without

thinking how inferior she was in looks, words or acts to those whose

images they carried in their hearts, and she was sure to suffer greatly

by the comparison.

Such is the divinely transforming quality of love.

Each of the boys had taken the first opportunity, after getting enough

to eat, a shelter prepared, and his clothes in shape and a tolerable

rest, to write a long letter to the object of his affections. Shorty's

letter was not long on paper, but in the time it took him to write it.

He felt that he was making some progress with the fair maid of Bad Ax,

and this made him the more deeply anxious that no misstep should thwart

the progress of love's young dream.

Letter-writing presented unusual difficulties to Shorty. His training in

the noble art of penmanship had stopped short long before his sinewy

fingers had acquired much knack at forming the letters. Spelling and he

had a permanent disagreement early in life, and he was scarcely on

speaking terms with grammar. He had never any trouble conveying his

thoughts by means of speech. People had very little difficulty in

understanding what he meant when he talked, but this was quite different

from getting his thoughts down in plain black and white for the reading

of a strange young woman whom he was desperately anxious to please, and

desperately afraid of offending. He labored over many sheets of paper

before he got a letter that seemed only fairly satisfactory. One he had

rejected because of a big blot on it; second, because he thought he had

expressed himself too strongly; a third, because of an erasure and

unseemly correction; a fourth, because of some newborn suspicions about

the grammar and spelling, and so on. He thought, after he had carefully

gathered up all his failures and burned them, together with a number of

envelopes he had wrecked in his labor to direct one to Miss Lucinda

Briggs, Bad Ax, Wis., sufficiently neatly to satisfy his fastidious

taste.

He carefully folded his letter, creasing it with a very stalwart thumb-

nail, sealed it, gave it a long inspection, as he thought how much it

was carrying, and how far, and took it up to the Chaplain's tent to be

mailed.

Later in the afternoon a hilarious group was gathered under a large

cottonwood. It was made up of teamsters, Quartermaster's men, and other

bobtail of the camp, with the officers' servants forming the dark fringe

of an outer circle. Groundhog was the presiding spirit. By means best

known to himself he had become possessed of a jug of Commissary whisky,

and was dispensing it to his auditors in guarded drams to highten their

appreciation of his wit and humor. He had come across one of the nearly-

completed letters which Shorty had thrown aside and failed to find when

he burned the rest. Groundhog was now reading this aloud, accompanied by

running comments, to the great amusement of his auditors, who felt that,

drinking his whisky, and expecting more, they were bound to laugh

uproariously at anything he said was funny.

"Shorty, that lanky, two-fisted chump of Co. Q, who thinks hisself a

bigger man than Gineral Rosecrans," Groundhog explained, "has writ a

letter to a gal away off somewhere up North. How in the kingdom he ever

come to git acquainted with her or any respectable woman 's more'n I kin

tell. But he's got cheek enough for anything. It's sartin, though, that

she's never saw him, and don't know nothin' about him, or she'd never

let him write to her. Of course, he's as ignorant as a mule. He

skeercely got beyant pot-hooks when he wuz tryin' to larn writin', an'

he spells like a man with a wooden leg. Look here:

"'Mi Dere Frend.' Now, everybody knows that the way to spell dear is d-

e-e-r. Then he goes on:

"'I taik mi pen in hand to inform u that Ime well, tho I've lost about

15 pounds, and hoap that u air injoyin' the same blessin."

"Think o' the vulgarity o' a man writin' to a young lady 'bout his

losin' flesh. If a man should write sich a thing to my sister I'd hunt

him up and wollop the life outen him. Then he goes on:

"'I aint built to spare much meat, and the loss of 15 pounds leaves

fallow lots in mi cloze. But it will grow it all back on me agin mitey

quick, as soon as we kin hav another protracted meetin' with the

Commissary Department.'

"Did you ever hear sich vulgarity?" Groundhog groaned. "Now hear him

brag and use langwidge unfit for any lady to see:

"'We've jest went throo the gosh-almightiest campane that enny army ever

done. It wuz rane and mud 48 ours outen the 24, with thunder and

litenin' on the side. We got wettern Faro's hosts done chasin' the Jews

throo 50 foot of Red See. But we diddent stop for that till we'd hussled

old Bragg outen his works, and started him on the keen jump for

Chattynoogy, to put the Cumberland Mountings betwixt us and him.'

"Think o' the conceit o' the feller. Wants to make that gal believe that

he druv off Bragg a'most single-handed, and intends to foller him up and

kick him some more. Sich gall. Sich fellers hurts us in the opinion o'

the people at home. They make 'em think we're all a set o' blowhards.

But this aint nothin' to what comes next. He tries to honeyfugle the

gal, and he's as clumsy 'bout it as a brown b'ar robbin' a bee-hive.

Listen:

"'mi dere frend, I can't tell you how happy yore letters maik me. I've

got so I look for the male a good dele more angshioussly than for the

grub wagon.'

"Think o' a man sayin' grub to a lady," said Groundhog, in a tone of

deep disgust. "Awful coarse. A gentleman allers says 'peck,' or 'hash,'

or Vittels,' when he's speakin' to a lady, or before ladies. I licked a

man onct for sayin' 'gizzard-linen' before my mother, and gizzard-linin'

aint half as coarse as grub. But he gits softer'n mush as he goes on.

Listen:

"'I rede every wun of 'em over till they're cleane wore out, and then I

save the pieces, bekaze they cum from u. I rede them whenever Ime alone,

and it seems to me that its yeres before another one comes. If I cood

make anybody feel as good by ritin' to 'em as u kin me Ide rite 'em

every day.'

"Thar's some more of his ignorant spellin'," said Groundhog. "Everybody

but a blamed fool knows the way to spell write is w-r-i-g-h-t. I learnt

that much before I wuz knee-high to a grasshopper. But let me continner:

"'I think Bad Ax, Wisconsin, must be the nicest plais in the world,

bekaze u live there. I woodent want to live anywhair else, and Ime

cummin up thar just as soon as the war is over to settle. I think of u

every our in the day, and—'

"He thinks of her every hour. The idee," said Groundhog, with deep

scorn, "that sich a galoot as Shorty thinks of anything more'n a minute,

except triple-X, all-wool, indigo-dyed cussedness that he kin work off

on some other feller and hurt him, that he don't think's as smart as he

is. Think o' him gushin' out all this soft-solder to fool some poor

girl."

"You infernal liar, you, give me that letter," shouted Si, bolting into

the circle and making a clutch at the sheet. "I'll pound your onery head

off en you."

Si had come up unnoticed, and listened for a few minutes to Groundhog's

tirade before he discovered that his partner was its object. Then he

sprang at the teamster, struck him with one hand, and snatched at the

letter with the other. The bystanders instinctively sided with the

teamster, and Si became the center of a maelstrom of kicks and blows,

when Shorty, seeing his partner's predicament, bolted down the hill and

began knocking down every body in reach until he cleared a way to Si's

side. By this time the attention of the Sergeant of the Guard was

attracted, and he brought an energetic gun-barrel to the task of

restoring the reign of law and order.

"How in thunder'd you come to git into a fracas with that herd o'

mavericks, Si?" asked Shorty, in a tone of rebuke, as the Sergeant was

rounding up the crowd and trying to get at who was to blame. "Couldn't

you find somebody on your own level to fight, without startin' a fuss

with a passel o' low-down, rust-eaten roustabouts? What's got into you?

Bin livin' so high lately that you had to have a fight to work off your

fractiousness? I'm surprised at you."

"Groundhog' d got hold of a letter o' your'n to your girl up in

Wisconsin," gasped Si, "and was readin' it to the crowd. Here's a piece

of it."

Shorty glanced at the fragment of torn paper in Si's hand, and a deep

blush suffused his sun-browned cheek. Then he gave a howl and made a

rush for Groundhog.

"Here, let that man alone, or I'll make you," shouted the Sergeant of

the Guard.

"Sergeant," said Si, "that rat-faced teamster had got hold of a letter

to his girl, and was reading it to this gang o' camp offal."

"O," said the Sergeant, in a changed tone; "hope he'll baste the life

out of him." And he jumped in before a crowd that was showing some

disposition to go to Groundhog's assistance, sharply ordered them to

about-face, and drove them off before him.

"Here, Sergeant," shouted the Officer of the Guard, who came running up;

"what are you fooling around with these fellows for? They're not doing

any thing. Don't you see that man's killing that team ster?"

"Teamster had got hold of a letter to his girl," explained the Sergeant,

"and was reading it to these whelps."

"O," said the Officer of the Guard in a different tone. "Run these

rascals down there in front of the Quartermaster's and set them to work

digging those stumps out. Keep them at it till midnight, without

anything to eat. I'll teach them to raise disturbances in camp."

CHAPTER X. AFTER BRAGG AGAIN RESTFUL SUMMER DAYS END—THE UNION PEOPLE OF

EAST TENNESSEE.

THOUGH every man in the Army of the Cumberland felt completely worn out

at the end of the Tullahoma campaign, it needed but a few days' rest in

pleasant camps on the foothills of the Cumberland Mountains, with plenty

of rations and supplies of clothing, to beget a restlessness for another

advance.

They felt envious of their comrades of the Army of the Tennessee, who

had cornered their enemy in Vicksburg and forced him to complete

surrender.

On the other hand, their enemy had evaded battle when they offered it to

him on the place he had himself chosen, had eluded their vigorous

pursuit, and now had his army in full possession of the great objective

upon which the eyes of the Army of the Cumberland had been fixed for two

years Chattanooga.

It was to Chattanooga that Gen. Scott ultimately looked when he began

the organization of forces north of the Ohio River. It was to

Chattanooga that Gens. Anderson, Sherman and Buell looked when they were

building up the Army of the Ohio. It was nearly to Chattanooga that Gen.

Mitchel made his memorable dash after the fall of Nashville, when he

took Huntsville, Bridgeport, Stevenson and other outlying places. It was

for Chattanooga that the "Engine Thieves" made their thrilling venture,

that cost eight of their lives. It was to Chattanooga that Buell was

ordered with the Army of the Ohio, after the "siege of Corinth," and

from which he was run back by Bragg's flank movement into Kentucky. It

was again toward Chattanooga that Rosecrans had started the Army of the

Cumberland from Nashville, in December, 1862, and the battle of Stone

River and the Tullahoma campaign were but stages in the journey.

President Lincoln wanted Chattanooga to relieve the sorely persecuted

Unionists of East Tennessee. Military men wanted Chattanooga for its

immense strategic importance, second only to that of Vicksburg.

The men of the Army of the Cumberland wanted Chattanooga, as those of

the Army of the Potomac wanted Richmond, and those of the Army of the

Tennessee had wanted Vicksburg, as the victor's guerdon which would

crown all their marches, skirmishes and battles.

But between them and Chattanooga still lay three great ranges of

mountains and a broad, navigable river. Where amid all these

fortifications of appalling strength would Bragg offer them battle for

the Confederacy's vitals?

"I don't care what Bragg's got over there," said Si, looking up at the

lofty mountain peaks, as he and Shorty discussed the probabilities. "He

can't git nothing worse than the works at War Trace and Shelbyville,

that he took six months to build, and was just goin' to slaughter us

with. And if we go ahead now he won't have the rain on his side. It

looks as if it has set in for a long dry spell; the country 'll be so we

kin git around in it without trouble. If the walkin' only stays good

we'll find a way to make Mr. Bragg hump out of Chattanooga, or stay in

there and git captured."

"Yes," assented Shorty, knocking the ashes out of his brierwood pipe,

and beginning to shave down a plug of bright navy to refill it, "and

I'll put old Rosey's brains and git-there agin all the mountains and

rivers and forts, and breastworks and thingama-jigs that Bragg kin git

up. Old Rosecrans is smarter any day in the week than Bragg is on

Sunday. He kin give the rebels cards and spades and run 'em out before

the fourth round is played. Only I hope he won't study about it as long

as he did after Stone River. I want to finish up the job in warm, dry

weather, and git home."

And his eyes took on a far-away look, which Si had no difficulty

interpreting that "home" meant a place with a queer name in distant

Wisconsin.

"Well," said Si reflectively, "old Rosecrans didn't study long after he

took command of us at Nashville, before plunking us squarely at the

Johnnies on Stone River. I think he's out for a fight now, and bound to

git it in short meter."

But the impatient boys had to wait a long Summer month, until the

railroads to the rear could be repaired to bring up supplies, and for

the corn to ripen so as to furnish forage for the cavalry.

But when, on the 16th of August, 1863, Rosecrans began his campaign of

magnificant strategy for the possession of Chattanooga, the 200th Ind.

had the supreme satisfaction of leading the advance up into the

mountains of living green to find the enemy and bring him to bay.

A few days' march brought them up onto the Cumberland Plateau. They had

now left the country of big plantations with cottonfields, and come upon

one of small farms and poor people. Si, with a squad, had been marching

far ahead all day as an advance-guard. They had seen no rebels, but all

the same kept a constant and vigilant outlook for the enemy. They were

approaching a log house of rather better class than any they had seen

since ascending the mountain. As they raised the crest of a hill they

heard a horn at the house give a signal, which set them keenly alert,

and they pushed forward rapidly, with their guns ready. Then they saw a

tall, slender young woman, scarcely more than a girl, dart out of the

house and attempt to cross the road and open ground to the dense woods.

Si sprang forward in pursuit. She ran like a young deer, but Si was

swift of foot, and had taken the correct angle to cut her off. He caught

her flying skirts and then grasped her wrist.

She Ran Like a Deer, But si Cut Her off 123

"Where are you goin', and what for?" he asked sternly, as he held her

fast and looked into her frightened eyes, while her breast heaved with

exertion and fear.

"I ain't goin' nowhar, an' for nothin'," she an swered sullenly.

"Yes you was, you young rebel," said Si. "You were goin' to tell some

sneakin' rebels about us. Where are they?"

"Wa'n't gwine to do nothin' o' the kind," she answered between gasps for

breath. "I don't know whar thar's no rebels. Thought they'uns had all

done gone away down the mounting till I seed yo'uns."

"Come, girl, talk sense," said Si roughly. "Tell me where those rebels

are that you was goin' to, and do it quick. Boys, look sharp."

A tall, very venerable man, with long, snowy-white hair and whiskers

came hobbling up, assisting his steps with a long staff with a handle of

a curled and twisted ram's horn.

"Gentlemen," he said, with a quavering voice, "I beg yo'uns won't harm

my granddaughter. She hain't done nothin' wrong, I'll sw'ar it, t'

yo'uns. We'uns 's for the Union, but that hain't no reason why we'uns

should be molested. We'uns 's peaceable, law-abidin' folks, an' ain't

never done nothin' agin the Southern Confederacy. All our neighbors

knows that. Ax any o' they'uns. If yo'uns must punish someone, take me.

I'm the one that's responsible for their Unionism. I've learned 'em

nothin' else sense they'uns wuz born. I'm a very old man, an' hain't

long t' live, nohow. Yo'uns kin do with me what yo'uns please, but for

my sake spare my innocent granddaughter, who hain't done nothin'."

Si looked at him in amazement. It was no uncommon thing for people to

protest Unionism, but sincerity was written in every line of the old

man's face.

"You say you're Union," he said. "If that's so, you've nothin' to fear

from us. We're Union soldiers. But what was that signal with the horn,

and where was this girl goin'?"

"She blowed the horn at my orders, to inform my neighbors, and she wuz

gwine on an arrant for me. Whatever she done I ordered her to do. Yo'uns

kin visit hit all on my head. But hit wa'n't nothin' agin yo'uns or the

Southern Confederacy."

"I tell you we're Union soldiers," repeated Si. "Can't you tell that by

our clothes?"

The old man's face brightened a little, but then a reminder of sorrowful

experience clouded it again.

"I've never seed no Union soldiers," said he. "The rebels come around

here dressed all sorts o' ways, and sometimes they pretend to be Union,

jest to lay a snare for we'uns. They'uns all know I'm Union, but I'm too

old t' do 'em harm. Hit's my neighbors they'uns is arter. But, thank

God, they'uns 's never kotched any o' them through me."

"I tell you we're genuine, true-blue Union soldiers from Injianny,

belong to Rosecrans's army, and are down here to drive the rebels out o'

the country. There, you kin see our flag comin' up the mountain."

The old man shaded his eyes with his hand, and looked earnestly at the

long line of men winding up the mountain-side.

"I kin see nothin' but a blue flag," said he, "much the same as some o'

Bragg's rijimints tote."

Si looked again, and noticed that only the blue regimental flag was

displayed.

"Wait a minnit, I'll convince him," said Shorty, and running down the

mountain he took the marker from the right guide of the regiment, and

presently came back waving it proudly in the sunshine.

The old man's face brightened like a May day, and then his faded eyes

filled with joyful tears as he exclaimed:

"Yes, thank Almighty God, that's hit. That's the real flag o' my

country. That's the flag I fit under with ole Jackson at New Orleans. I

bless God that I've lived to see the day that hit's come back."

He took the flag in his hands, fondly surveyed its bright folds, and

then fervently kissed it. Then he said to his granddaughter:

"Nance, call the boys in, that they'uns's may see thar friends 've come

at last."

Nance seemed to need no second bidding. She sped back to the porch,

seized the long tin horn and sent mellow, joyful notes floating far over

the billowy hills, until they were caught up by the cliffs and echoed

back in subdued melody.

"Don't be surprised, gentlemen, at what yo'uns 'll see," said the old

man.

Even while the bugle-like notes were still ringing on the warm air, men

began appearing from the most unexpected places. They were all of the

same type, differing only in age from mere boys to middle-aged men. They

were tall, raw-boned and stoop-shouldered, with long, black hair, and

tired, sad eyes, which lighted up as they saw the flag and the men

around it. They were attired in rude, home spun clothes, mostly ragged

and soiled, and each man carried a gun of some description.

They came in such numbers that Si was startled. He drew his men

together, and looked anxiously back to see how near the regiment had

come.

"I done tole yo'uns not t' be surprised," said the old man reassuringly;

"they'uns 's all right every one of 'em a true Union man, ready and

willin' t' die for his country. The half o' they'uns hain't got in yit,

but they'll all come in."

"Yes, indeed," said one of the first of them to come in, a pleasant-

faced, shapely youth, with the soft down of his first beard scantily

fringing his face, and to whom Nancy had sidled up in an unmistakable

way. "We'uns 've bin a-layin' out in the woods for weeks, dodgin' ole

Bragg's conscripters and a-waitin' for yo'uns. We'uns 've bin watchin'

yo'uns all day yisterday, an' all this mornin', tryin' t' make out who

yo'uns rayly wuz. Sometimes we'uns thought yo'uns wuz Yankees, an' then

agin that yo'uns wuz the tail-end o' Bragg's army. All we'uns 's a-gwine

t' jine all yo'uns, an' fout for the Union."

"Bully boys right sentiments," said Shorty enthusiastically. "There's

room for a lot o' you in this very regiment, and it's the best regiment

in the army. Co. Q's the best company in the regiment, and it needs 15

or 20 fine young fellers like you to fill up the holes made by Stone

River and Tennessee rain and mud."

"I'll go 'long with you, Mister Ossifer, if you'll take me," said the

youth, very shyly and softly to Si, whose appearance seemed to attract

him.

"Certainly we'll take you," said Si, "if the Surgeon 'll accept you, and

I'll see that you're sworn in on the spot."

"Nancy," said the youth diffidently to the girl, who had stood by his

side holding his hand during the whole conversation, "yo' done promised

yo'd marry me as soon's the Yankee soldiers done come for sure, and

they'uns 've done come, millions of 'em. Looky thar millions of 'em."

He pointed to the distant hills, every road over which was swarming with

legions of blue.

"Yes, Nate," said the girl, reddening, chewing her bonnet-strings to

hide her confusion, and stir ring up the ground with the toe of her

shoe, "I reckon I did promise yo' I'd marry yo' when the Yankee soldiers

done come for sure, and thar does seem t' be a right smart passel of 'em

done come already, with a heapin' more on the way. But yo' ain't gwine

t' insist on me keepin' my promise right off, air yo'?"

And she took a bigger bite at her bonnet-strings and dug a deeper hole

with the toe of her shoe.

"Yes, indeedy right off jest the minnit I kin find a preacher," replied

Nate, growing bolder and more insistent as he felt his happiness

approaching. "I'm a-gwine off t' the war with this gentleman's company

(indicating Si with a wave of his disengaged hand), and we must be

spliced before I start. Say, Mister Ossifer (to Si), kin yo' tell me

whar I kin find a preacher?"

Si and Shorty and the rest were taking a deep interest in the affair. It

was so fresh, so genuine, so unconventional that it went straight to all

their hearts, and, besides, made a novel incident in their campaign.

They were all on the side of the would-be bridegroom at once, and

anxious for his success. The Adjutant had come up with the order that

they should stop where they were, for the regiment would go into camp

just below for the day. So they had full leisure to attend to the

matter. The Tennesseeans took only a modified interest, for the presence

of the Union army was a much more engrossing subject, and they preferred

to stand and gaze open-eyed and open-mouthed at the astonishing swarms

of blue-clad men rather than to pay attention to a commonplace mountain

wooing.

"We have a preacher he's the Chaplain of the regiment," suggested Si.

"Any sort of a preacher'll do for me," said Nate sanguinely, "so long 's

he's a preacher Hard Shell, Free Will, Campbellite, Winebrennarian,

Methodist, Cumberland Presbyterian and kind, so long 's he's a

regularly-ordained preacher, 'll do for me. Won't hit for you, honey?"

"Granddad's a Presbyterian," she said, blushing, "and I'd rather he'd be

a Presbyterian. Better ax granddad."

Nate hurried over to the grandfather, who was so deeply engrossed in

talking politics, the war, and the persecutions the East Tennesseeans

had endured at the hands of the rebels with the officers and soldiers

gathered around that he did not want to be bothered with such a

comparatively unimportant matter as the marriage of a granddaughter.

"Yes, marry her any way you like, so long as you marry her honest and

straight," said he impatiently to Nate. Then, as Nate turned away, he

explained to those about him: "That's the 45th grandchild that I've had

married, and I'm kind o' gittin used t' hit, so t' speak. Nate and her

've bin keepin' company and courtin' ever sense they wuz weaned, an' bin

pesterin' the life out o' me for years t' let 'em git jined. Sooner

hit's done the better. As I wuz sayin', we'uns give 80,000 majority in

Tennessee agin Secession, but ole Isham Harris" etc.

"I'll speak to the Adjutant about it," said Si, when Nate came back

glowing with gladness.

The young Adjutant warmly approved the enlistment proposition, and was

electrified by the idea of the marriage.

"I'll go and talk to the Colonel and the Chaplain about it. Why, it'll

be no end of fun. We'll fix up a wedding-supper for them, have the band

serenade them, and send an account of it home to the papers. You go and

get them ready, and I'll attend to the rest. Say, I think we'd better

have him enlisted, and then married afterward. That'll make it a

regimental affair. You take him down to Capt. McGillicuddy, that he may

take him before the Surgeon and have him examined. Then we'll regularly

enlist him, and he'll be one of us, and in the bonds of the United

States before he is in the bonds of matrimony. It'll be the first

marriage in the regiment, but not the first one that is ardently

desired, by a long shot."

The Adjutant gave a little sigh, which Si could not help echoing, and

Shorty joined in.

"Well, our turns will come, too, boys," said the Adjutant with a laugh,

"when this cruel war is over." And he whistled "The Girl I Left Behind

Me" as he rode back to camp.

The Surgeon found Nathan Hartburn physically sound, the oath was duly

administered to the young recruit, and he made his mark on the

enlistment papers, and was pronounced a soldier of the United States,

belonging to Co. Q, 200th Ind. He had been followed through all these

steps by a crowd of his friends, curious to see just what was the method

of "jinin' the Union army," and when Co. Q received its new member with

cheers and friendly congratulations the others expressed their eagerness

to follow his example.

Co. Q was in a ferment over the wedding, with everybody eager to do

something to help make it a grand success, and to fill the hearts of the

other companies with envy. The first and greatest problem was to provide

the bridegroom with a uniform in which to be married. The

Quartermaster's wagons were no one knew exactly where, but certainly a

day or more back on the road, and no one had started out on the campaign

with any extra clothing. Shorty, who considered himself directly

responsible for the success of the affair, was for awhile in despair. He

was only deterred from stealing a pair of the Colonel's trousers by the

timely thought that it would, after all, be highly improper for a

private to be wearing a pair of pantaloons with a gold cord. Then he

resolved to make a sacrifice of himself. He was the nearest Nate's

proportions of any man in the company, and he had drawn a new pair of

trousers just before starting on the march. They had as yet gotten very

slightly soiled. He went to the spring and laboriously washed them until

they were as bright as new, and, after they were dried, insisted on Nate

trading pantaloons with him. A new blouse was more readily found, and as

readily contributed by its owner. Si freely gave up his sole extra

shirt, and another donated a pair of reserve shoes. The Adjutant came in

with a McClellan cap. When the company barber cut Nate's long hair, and

shaved him, he was arrayed in his wedding uniform, and as Si had given

him a little drill in holding him self erect, he was as presentable a

soldier as could be found in the regiment, and quite as proud of himself

as the boys of Co. Q were of him. Then an other despairing thought

struck Shorty:

"'Tain't right," he communed with Si and the rest, "that the bridegroom

should have all the good clothes. The bride should have the boss togs o'

the two. If we was only back near Nashville she should have a layout

that'd out-rag the Queen o' Sheby, if it took every cent there was in

the company. But I don't suppose you could buy a yard o' kaliker or a

stitch o' finery within 50 miles o' this clayknob."

"What we might do," said Si reflectively, "would be to give her her

trowso futuriously, so to speak. We've just bin paid off, and hain't had

no chance to spend our money, so that all the boys has some. Every one

o' 'em 'll be glad to give a dollar, which you kin hand her in a little

speech, tellin' her that we intended to present her with her trowso, but

circumstances over which we had no control, mainly the distance to a

milliner shop, prevented, but we would hereby present her with the means

to git it whenever convenient, and she could satisfy herself much better

by picking it out her ownself. You want to recollect that word trowso.

It's the elegant thing for a woman's wedding finery, and if you use it

you'll save yourself from mentioning things that you don't know nothin'

about, and probably oughtn't to mention. My sisters learned it to me. A

girl who'd bin at boarding-school learned them."

"Good idee," said Shorty, slapping his leg. "I'll go right out and

collect a dollar from each of the boys. Say that word over agin, till I

git it sure."

Shorty came back in a little while with his hands full of greenbacks

"Every boy ponied right up the moment I spoke to him," he said. "And the

Captain and Adjutant each gave $5. She's got money enough to buy out the

best milliner shop in this part o' Tennessee."

Next came thoughts of a wedding-supper for the bride's friends. The

Colonel took the view that the large number of recruits which he

expected to gain justified him in ordering the Commissary to issue a

liberal quantity of rations. Two large iron wash-kettles were scoured

out one used to make coffee in and the other to boil meat, while there

was sugar and hardtack in abundance. The mountains were covered with

royal blooms of rhododendron, and at the Adjutant's suggestion enough of

these were cut to fill every nook and corner of the main room of the

house, hiding the rough logs and dark corners with masses of splendid

color, much to the astonish ment of the bride, who had never before

thought of rhododendrons as a feature of house adornment.

Then, just before 6 o'clock roll-call, Co. Q, with every man in it

cleaned up as for dress-parade, with Nathan Hartburn at the head,

supported on either side by Si and Shorty, and flanked by the Adjutant

and Chaplain, marched up the hill to the house, led by the fifers and

drummers, playing the reveille, "When the Cruel War is Over," "Yankee

Doodle," and everything else in their limited repertory which they could

think as at all appropriate to the occasion. The rest of the regiment,

with most of the officers, followed after.

The Chaplain took his place in front of the rhododendron-filled

fireplace. The bride and groom stood before him, with Si and Shorty in

support. All of Co. Q crowded into the room, and the rest looked through

the windows and doors. The Chaplain spoke the words which made the young

couple man and wife, and handed them a certificate to that effect.

Shorty then advanced, with his hand full of greenbacks, and said:

"Missis Hartburn: Co. Q of the 200th Ind., of which you are now a brevet

member, has appointed me to present their congratulations. We extend to

you the right hand of fellership of as fine a crowd o' soldiers as ever

busted caps on any field of battle. We're very glad to have your young

husband with us. We'll take care of him, treat him right, and bring him

back to you crowned with the laurels of victory. You just bet your life

we will. That's our way o' doin' things. Madam, Co. Q very much wished

to present you with a trou— trou— tro— what is that blamed word, Si?"

"Trowso," whispered Si—

"with a trowso," continued Shorty, "but circumstances and about 150 mile

o' mud road over which we have no control prevented. To show, though,

that we really meant business, and ain't givin' you no wind, we have

collected the skads for a regular 24-carat trow— trous— trows— trou—

tro— (blamed the dinged word, what is it, Si?)"

"Trowso," prompted Si

"for a regler 24-carat trowso which I have the pleasure o' putting in

your lily-white hands, at the same time wishin' for the company, for you

and your husband, all happiness and joy in your married 'life. No more,

from yours truly."

Shorty's brow was beaded with perspiration as he concluded this

intellectual effort and handed the bride the money, which she accepted,

as she had done everything else on that eventful day, as some thing that

she was expected to do. The company applauded as if it had been a speech

by Daniel Webster, and then the supper-table was attacked.

Then came pipes, and presently the brigade band came over and serenaded.

A fiddle was produced from somewhere, and a dance started. Suddenly came

the notes of a drum in camp.

"Early for tattoo, ain't it?" said they, looking inquiringly at one

another.

"That's no 'tattoo," said Shorty; "that's the long roll. Break for camp,

everybody."

CHAPTER XI. THE MOUNTAIN FOLK THE SHADOW OF AN EAST TENNESSEE VENDETTA.

THE long roll turned out to be occasioned by the burning of a Union

Tennesseean's house by a squad of revengeful guerrillas, but the

regiment had to stay under arms until a party of cavalry went out and

made an investigation. The men stacked their arms, and lay around on the

ground to get what sleep was possible, and which was a good deal, for

the night was pleasant, and there are worse beds than the mossy hillside

on a July night.

"Too bad that your weddin' night had to be broken up so," said Si

sympathetically, as he and Shorty and the bridegroom sat together on a

knoll and watched the distant flames. "But you needn't 've come with us

this time; nobody expected you to."

"Why, I s'posed this wuz part o' the regler thing," answered Nate in

amazement. "I s'posed that wuz the way yo'uns allers married folkses in

the army. Allers something happens at weddin's down hyah. Mos' ginerully

hit's a free fout betwixt the young fellers o' the bride's an'

bridegroom's famblies, from 'sputin' which fambly's made the best match.

When Brother Wils married Becky Barnstable we Hartburn boys said that

Wils mout-ve looked higher. The Barnstable boys done tuk hit up, an'

said the Barnstables wuz ez good ez the Hartburns ary day in the week,

an' at the weddin' Nels Barnstable had his eye gouged out, Ike

Barnstable wuz knocked down with a flail, an' had what the doctor called

discussion o' the brain, and ole Sandy Barnstable cut off Pete

Hartburn's ear with a bowie. They-uns reopened the argyment at the

infair, an' laid out two o' the Hartburns with ox-gads. I don't think

they orter used ox-gads. Tain't gentlemanly. D'ye think so? Knives, an'

pistols, an' guns, an' even flails an' axes, is all right, when you

can't git nothin' better, but I think ox-gads is low an' onery."

Si and Shorty looked at the gentle, drawling, mild-eyed young

Tennesseean with amazement. A young girl could not have seemed softer or

more pliant, yet he quietly talked of savage fighting as one of the most

casual things in life.

"Well," said Shorty, "if that's the way you celebrat weddin's and in-

fairs down here in Tennessee, I don't wonder that you welcome a battle

for a change. I think I'd prefer a debate with guns to one with axes and

flails and anything that'd come handy. It's more reg'ler to have umpires

and referees, and the thing conducted accordin' to the rules of the P.

R. Then when you git through you know for sure who's licked."

"Jist 'cordin' t' how one's raised," remarked Nate philosophically.

"I've allers done seed a big furse o' some kind at a weddin'. Don't all

yo'uns have none at yo'uns's weddin's?"

"Nothin' worse'n gittin' the girl's dad to consent," answered Shorty,

"and scratchin' 'round to git the money to git married on to buy a new

suit o' clothes, fee the preacher, pay for the license, and start

housekeepin'. That's enough for one lifetime."

"Well, mam an' the gals made Wils's weddin' cloze," said Nate

reflectively. "He had his own sheep, which he sheared in the Spring.

They'uns carded, spun, dyed, an' wove the wool themselves, an' made him

the purtiest suit o' cloze ever seed on the mountings."

"Your mother and sisters goin' to make your weddin' suit, Si?" asked

Shorty. "What'd he have to pay for the license?"

"License? What's that?" asked Nate.

"License? Why, a license," explained Si, "is something you git from the

County Clerk. It's leave to git married, and published in the County

paper."

"Don't have t' have no leave from nobody down here t' git married. Hit's

nobody's business but the man's an' the gal's, an' they'uns's famblies.

Some times other folkses tries t' stick their noses in, but they'uns git

sot down upon."

"What'd he pay the preacher?" asked Shorty.

"Why, mam gin his wife a hank o' fine stockin' yarn, an' dad gin him a

couple sides o' bacon."

"At present prices o' pork in Injianny," remarked Si, after a little

mental figuring, "that wasn't such a bad fee."

"If you speak to the Captain," suggested Si, "he'll let you go back home

to your wife. I don't believe there's goin' to be anything special to-

night. The cavalry don't seem to be stirrin' up nothin out there."

"I don't keer t'," said Nate, in his sweet, girlish drawl. "Ruther stay

with yo'all. Mout somethin' happen. Biff Perkins an' his gang o'

gorillers is out thar somewhar, not fur off, huntin' a chance fur

deviltry. I'd like mouty t' git a whack at they'uns. Nance'll keep.

She's mine now, fast an' good, for ever, an'll wait fur me. Afore we wuz

spliced I wuz afeered Zach Barnstable mout work some contrivance t' git

her, but now she belongs t' me."

The boys took him to their hearts more than ever.

At the coming of the early dawn the regiment was aroused and marched

back to camp, there to meet orders to move forward at once, as soon as

breakfast was prepared and eaten. Away it marched for the Tennessee

River, behind which Bragg was supposed to be gathering his forces for

the defense of Chattanooga.

As Co. Q went by the cabin, Grandfather Onslow was seated in a rocking-

chair on the porch, smoking a cob pipe, while Mrs. Nancy Onslow

Hartburn, with her finger bashfully in her mouth, peeped around the

corner. Co. Q gave her a cheer, at which she turned and fled out of

sight, as if it was some raillery on her newly-married state, and Nate

hung down his head, as if he, too, felt the boys were poking fun at him.

"Good-by, boys. Lick the life outen Ole Bragg," quavered Grandfather

Onslow, waving his hand after them.

"That's what we're goin' to do," shouted the boys in reply.

"Well," said Si, "I bet if ever I'm married I'll kiss my wife before I

go away."

"Me, too," echoed Shorty, very soulfully.

Shorty and Si considered Nate Hartburn their special protege, and were

deeply anxious to transform him into a complete soldier in the shortest

possible time. He was so young, alert, and seemingly pliable, that it

appeared there would be no difficulty in quickly making him a model

soldier. But they found that while he at once responded to any

suggestion of a raid or a fight, drill, discipline and camp routine were

bores that he could be induced to take only a languid interest in.

Neither Si nor Shorty were any too punctilious in these matters, but

they were careful to keep all the time within easy conversational

distance of the regulations and tactics. Naturally, also, they wanted

their pupil to do better than they did. But no lecturing would prevent

young Hartburn from slouching around camp with his hands in his pockets

and his head bent. He would not or could not keep step in the ranks, nor

mark time. While Si was teaching him he would make a listless attempt to

go through the manual of arms, but he would make no attempt to handle

his gun the prescribed way after the lesson was ended. Si was duly

mindful of the sore time he himself had in learning the drill, and tried

to be very considerate with him, but his patience was sorely tried at

times.

"For goodness' sake, Nate," Si would say irritably, "try to keep step.

You're throwin' everybody out."

"'Tain't my fault, Si," Nate would reply with a soft drawl. "Hit's

theirs. I'm walkin' all right, but they'uns hain't. Jaw them. What's the

sense o' walkin' so' close together, anyway? Yo' don't git thar no

sooner."

Then again:

"Great jumpin' Jehosephat, Nate, will you never learn the right way to

hold your gun when you present arms? You must turn the trigger outside,

not the hammer."

"O, Jeminy, what difference does hit make? I never kin recollect hit,

an' what's the use o' tryin'? Can't see no sense in holdin' a gun

straight up an' down that-a-way, anyway, an' if yo' do, hain't one side

jest as good as t'other?"

He was so obdurate that the boys would some times be provoked to sharp

words to him, but his gentle speech would quickly disarm them again, and

make them feel penitent.

At last the 200th Ind. came out upon the crest of Waldron's Ridge,

overlooking the Tennessee River, which wound and turned amid the

towering mountains like a band of bright silver traversing the giant

billows of green. Everyone caught his breath at the sight, for beyond

the stream were rebel camps, and moving trains and long, lines of

marching men. Was all of Bragg's army gathered over there to dispute the

passage or was a part still this side of the river, ready to pounce on

our heads of columns as they meandered down the mountain?

The brigade was closed up, information sent to the Division Commander,

and the 200th Ind. pushed to the front to develop whatever might be

there. Si with Shorty and some others were sent ahead to feel for the

enemy.

"Take him along?" asked Si of Shorty in a low tone, with a nod toward

Nate, as they were making up the squad.

"Don't know," answered Shorty. "If ever in the world, we want men with

us to-day who don't git rattled, and make a holy show o' theirselves

before the regiment, but'll keep cool, watch their chances, and obey

orders. Guess we'd better leave him behind."

"Seems to me," said Si, trying vaguely to recall his Scriptual readings,

"that the Bible says some thing agin takin' a newly-married man right

into battle just after he's married."

He looked around again, saw Nate taking his place along with the other

men selected, and called out:

"Here, Nate, fall back to the company. You can't go along."

"Please, Mister Si, le' me go along," begged Nate, in the soft tones of

a girl asking for a flower. "I'll be good. I'll hold my gun straight,

an' try t' keep step."

"No, you can't go., This 's partickler business, and we want only

experienced men with us. Better fall back to the company."

"Go ahead, there, Corporal," commanded the Adjutant. "Time's passing. We

must move."

Si deployed his men and entered the dense woods which curtained the view

and shrouded the enemy. It was one of those deeply anxious moments in

war, when the enemy is in ambush, and the next instant, the next step

may develop him in deadly activity.

Si was on the right of his line and Shorty on the left, and they were

pushing forward slowly, cautiously, and with every sense strained to the

extremity of alertness.

So dense was the foliage overhead that it was almost a twilight in the

forest depths they were penetrating, and Si's eyes were strained to keep

track of the men moving on his left, and at the same time watch the

developments in front. He had noticed that he was approaching a little

opening some distance ahead, and that beyond it was a dense thicket of

tall laurels. Then he thought he heard a low whistle from Shorty, and

looked far to the left, while continuing to walk forward.

Suddenly he was startled by a shot a little to his rear and left. Then a

shot answered from the laurel thicket, he saw the bushes over there stir

violently, and he heard Nate's voice say:

"He wuz layin' for yo', Si, an' come nigh a-gittin' yo', but I think I

must've at least creased him, from the wild way he shot back. Le's go

forrard an' see."

"I thought I told you to stay back," said Si, more intent on military

discipline than his escape.

"I know yo' did done hit, but I couldn't mind, an' tagged 'long arter

yo'."

"How'd you know he wuz there?"

"I done seed the bushes move over his head. I knowed jest how he wuz a-

layin' for yo'. Le's go forrard an' git him."

Si and Nate ran across the open space to the laurels, and found a little

ways in a bushwhacker staggering from pain and loss of blood from a

wound in his hip, and making labored efforts to escape.

"I done hit him; I done fetched him; I done knowed jist whar he wuz,"

exclaimed Nate with boyish exultation.

At the sound of his voice the bushwhacker turned around upon him an

ugly, brutal face, full of savage hatred.

"Why, hit's bad ole Wash Barnstable, what burnt daddy's stable with two

horses, an' shot brother Wils through the arm. I'll jist job him in the

heart with my bayonet," screamed the boy as he recognized the face. His

own features became transfigured with rage, and he began fixing his

bayonet. Si pushed forward and caught the bushwhacker by the shoulder

and tore the gun from his hand. Nate came springing up, with his bayonet

pointed directly at the man's heart. Si saw it in time to thrust it

aside, saying in wrathful astonishment:

"Nate, you little scoundrel, what do you mean? Would you kill a wounded

man?"

"Suttenly I'll done kill him," screamed the boy in a a frenzy of rage.

"Why not? He desarves hit, the hell-hound. All of us Hartburns 've said

we'd done kill him the minnit we laid eyes on him. Now that I've got him

I'm gwine t' finish him."

He made another vicious lunge at the man with his bayonet.

"Indeed you're not," said Si, releasing his hold on the prisoner and

catching Nate's gun. "You mustn't kill a wounded man, you young

wildcat."

'you Must'nt Kill a Wounded Man 143

"Why not?" shouted the boy, beside himself with rage. "He's done killed

lots o' men. He'll kill more if yo' let him go. He wuz layin' t' kill

yo'. Air yo' gwine t' gin him another chance to down yo'?"

Si wrested the gun from him. Two or three other boys who had been

attracted by the shot came up at this moment. Si gave the prisoner into

the charge of one of them, with instructions to take him to the rear.

Nate released his hold on his gun and made a jump for the one which the

other boy had stood against a tree when he started to take hold of the

prisoner. Again Si was too quick for him. He was by this time so angry

that he was in the mood to give Nate a severe lesson, but the Adjutant,

had ridden forward, called out:

"Go ahead, there, Corporal. We're just behind you."

"Pick up your gun, there, Nate, and come along with me, if you kin

behave yourself. There's work much more important than killin' wounded

bushwhackers. Come along, this minute."

Nate hesitated a moment, then picked up his gun with a vengeful look at

the prisoner.

"I'll kill him yit. Mebbe I'll git a chance this evenin' yit," said he,

and followed Si.

CHAPTER XII. SI AND SHORTY IN LUCK THEY MAKE A BRIEF VISIT TO "GOD'S

COUNTRY."

THE shot fired by Nate Hartburn was the only one that interrupted the

progress of the 200th Ind. to the banks of the Tennessee River. Its

cautious advance at last brought it out on the crest of a hill, at the

foot of which, 200 feet below, flowed the clear current of the mountain-

fed stream. The rebels were all on the other side. Their pickets could

be plainly seen, and they held the further pier of the burned railroad

bridge. To our right rose three strong forts, built the year previous.

As soon as it was determined that all the enemy were beyond the river,

the 200th Ind. went into camp for the afternoon and night upon a cleared

spot which had been used for that purpose before our troops had been

flanked out of that country by Bragg's raid into Kentucky just a year

before.

A dress parade was ordered at 6 o'clock, and when the Adjutant came to

"publish the orders," the regiment was astonished and Si electrified to

hear:

"In pursuance of orders from Division Headquarters to detail squads from

each of the different regiments to proceed to their respective States to

bring back recruits and drafted men for the regiments, First Lieut.

Bowersox, of Co. A, and Corp'l Josiah Klegg, of Co. Q, with six enlisted

men of that company, to be selected by Capt. McGillicuddy, are here by

detailed for that duty, and will prepare to leave to-morrow morning."

Si clutched his partner in his excitement and said, "Shorty, did you

hear that? I'm to be sent back to Injianny. Ain't that what he said?"

"If my ears didn't mistake their eyesight, them was about his words,"

returned Shorty. "You're in luck."

"And you're goin' with me, Shorty."

"The Adjutant didn't include that in his observations. I ain't so crazy,

anyway, to git back to Injianny. Now, if it wuz Wisconsin it'd be

different. If you've got any recruits to bring on from Wisconsin, I'm

your man. I'd go up there at my own expense, though I don't s'pose that

Rosecrans could spare me just now. What'd become o' the army if he'd git

sick, and me away?"

"But, Shorty, you are goin'. You must go. I won't go if you don't."

"Don't say won't too loud. You're detailed, and men that's detailed

don't have much choice in the matter.

"You'll probably act sensibly and do whatever you're ordered to do. Of

course, I'd like to go, if we kin git back in time for this sociable

with Mister Bragg. Don't want to miss that. That'll be the he-fight o'

the war, and probably the last battle."

"Nor do I," answered Si; "but the thing won't come off till we git back.

They wouldn't be sending back for the drafted men and recruits except

that they want 'em to help out."

"They'll be a durned sight more in the way than help," answered Shorty.

"We don't need 'em. We've handled Bragg so far very neatly, all by

ourselves, and we don't need anybody to mix into our little job. The

fewer we have the more credit there'll be in lickin' old Bragg and

capturin' Chattanoogy."

The Orderly-Sergeant interrupted the discussion by announcing:

"Here, Shorty, you're one to go with Si. The detail is made by the

Colonel's orders as a compliment to the good work you boys have been

doing, and which the Colonel knows about."

"I always said that the Colonel had the finest judgment as to soldiers

of any man in the army," said Shorty, after taking a minute's pause to

recover from the compliment.

The boys were immediately surrounded by their comrades, congratulating

them, and requesting that they would take back letters and money for

them. The Paymaster had recently visited the regiment, and everybody had

money which he wished to send home. There were also commissions to

purchase in numerable things, ranging from meerschaum pipes to fine

flannel shirts.

"Look here, boys," said Shorty, good-humoredly, "we want to be obligin',

but we're neither a Adams Express Company nor in the gent's furnishin'

line. We've neither an iron safe to carry money nor a pedler's wagon to

deliver goods. John Morgan's guerrillas may jump us on the way home, and

comin' back we'll have to have packs to carry the truck in, and half of

it 'll be stole before we git to the regiment."

But the comrades would not be dissuaded, and be fore Si and Shorty went

to sleep they had between $5,000 and $6,000 of their comrades' money

stowed in various safe places about their personages.

"Great Jehosephat, Si," murmured Shorty, when they sat together in their

tent, after the last comrade had departed, leaving his "wad of

greenbacks," with directions as to its disposition, "I never felt so

queer and skeery in all my life. I wouldn't for the world lose a dollar

of the money these boys have been earnin' as they have this. But how

under heaven are we goin' to make sure of it?"

"I've thought of a way o' makin' sure of to-night," said Si. "I spoke to

the Officer of the Guard, and he'll put a sentinel over us to-night,

so's we kin git a little sleep. I wouldn't shet my eyes, if it wasn't

for that. We'll have to let to-morrow take care of itself."

Shorty lay down and tried to go to sleep, but the responsibility weighed

too heavily on his mind. Presently, Si, who, for the same reason, only

slept lightly, was awakened by his partner getting up.

"What are you up to?" Si asked.

"I've bin thinkin about pickpockets," answered Shorty. "They're an awful

slick lot, and I've thought of a hiding place that'll fool 'em."

He picked up his faithful Springfield, and drawing an envelope with

money out of his shirt-pocket, rolled it up to fit the muzzle of his

gun, and then rammed it down.

"That's Jim Meddler's $10," he said. "I'll know it, because his mother's

name's on the envelope. Here goes Pete Irvin's $20. I know it because it

has his wife's name on it."

He continued until he had the barrel of the gun filled, and then stopped

to admire his cunning.

"Now, nobody but me'd ever thought o' hidin' money in a gun. That's

safe, as least. All I've got to do is to stick to my gun until we git

acrost the Ohio River. But I hain't got the tenth part in; where kin I

put the rest? O, there's my cartridge-box and cap-box. Nobody'll think

o' lookin' there for money."

He filled both those receptacles, but still had fully half his money

left on his person.

"That'll just have to take its chances with the pickpockets," said he,

and returned to his bed, with his gun by his side, and his cap- and

cartridge-boxes under his head.

The morning came, with their money all right, as they assured themselves

by careful examination immediately after reveille.

As they fell in under Lieut. Bowersox to start, their comrades crowded

around to say good-by, give additional messages for the home-folks, and

directions as to their money, and what they wanted bought.

But Shorty showed that he was overpowered with a nervous dread of

pickpockets. He saw a possible light-fingered thief in everyone that

approached. He would let nobody touch him, stood off a little distance

from the rest of the squad, and when any body wanted to shake hands

would hold him stiffly at arm's length.

"Gittin' mighty stuck-up just because the Colonel patted you on the back

a little, and give you a soft detail," sneered one of Co. Q.

"Well, you'd be stuck-up, too," answered Shorty, "if your clothes was

padded and stuffed with other folks' greenbacks, and you was in the

midst o' sich a talented lot o' snatchers as the 200th Injianny. Mind, I

ain't makin' no allusions nor references, and I think the 200th Injianny

is the honestest lot o' boys in the Army o' the Cumberland; but if I

wanted to steal the devil's pitchfork right out o' his hand, I'd make a

detail from the 200th Injianny to do the job, and I'd be sure o' gittin'

the pitchfork. I'll trust you all when you're 10 feet away from me."

The others grinned and gave him a cheer.

When they went to get on board the train Shorty had to change his

tactics. He got Si on his right, the Lieutenant immediately in front of

them, and two trusted boys of the squad directly behind, with strict

injunctions to press up close, allow nobody between, and keep a hawk's

eye on everybody. But both Si and Shorty were breathless with

apprehension till they got through the crowd and were seated in the car,

and a hasty feeling of various lumps about their persons assured them

that their charges were safe. They were in a passenger car, for luck.

The Lieutenant sat in front, Si and Shorty next, and the two trusty boys

immediately behind. They breathed a sigh of relief. As they stood their

guns over against the side of the car, Si suddenly asked:

"Shorty, did you draw your charge before you rammed that money in?"

Shorty jumped to his feet in a shudder of alarm, and exclaimed:

"Great Jehosephat, no. I forgot all about it."

"What's that you're saying about guns?" inquired the Lieutenant, turning

around. "You want to load them, and keep them handy. We're liable to

strike some guerrillas along the way, and we must be ready for them."

"You fellers'll have to do the shootin'," whispered Shorty to Si. "It'll

be a cold day when I bang $150 in greenbacks at any rebel that ever

jumped. I'm goin' to take the cap off en my gun. The jostlin' o' the

train's likely to knock it off at any time, and send a small fortune

through the roof o' the car. I'd take the money out, but I'm afraid o'

tearin' it all to pieces, with the train plungin' so."

He carefully half-cocked his piece, took off the cap, rubbed the nipple

to remove any stray fragments of fulminate, and then let the hammer down

on a piece of wadding taken from his cap.

The long ride to Nashville over the ground on which they had been

campaigning and fighting for nearly a year would have been of deepest

interest to Si and Shorty, as it was to the rest, if they could have

freed their minds of responsibilities long enough to watch the scenery.

But they would give only a cursory glance any say:

"We'll look at it as we come back."

In the crowded depot at Nashville they had an other panic, but the

Provost-Guard kept a gangway clear as soon as it was discovered that

they were on duty.

"You can stack your arms there, boys," said the Sergeant of the Guard,

"and go right over there and get a warm supper, with plenty of coffee."

All but Shorty obeyed with alacrity, and stacked their guns with the

quickness of old and hungry vet erans.

Shorty kept hold of his gun and started with the rest to the supper-

room.

"Here, Injianny," called out the Sergeant, "stack your gun here with the

rest."

"Don't want to ain't goin' to," answered Shorty.

"What's the reason you ain't?" asked the Sergeant, catching hold of the

gun. "Nobody's going to take it, and if they did, you can pick up

another. Plenty of 'em, jest as good as that, all around here."

"Don't care. This is my own gun. I think more of it than any gun ever

made, and I ain't goin' to take any chance of losin' it."

"Well, then, you'll take a chance of losing your supper," answered the

Sergeant, "or rather you'll be certain of it, for the orders are strict

against taking guns into the supper-room. Too many accidents have

happened."

"Well, then," said Shorty stoutly, "I'll do without my supper, though

I'm hungrier than a wolf at the end of a long Winter."

"Well, if you're so infernal pig-headed, you've got to," answered the

Sergeant, nettled at Shorty's obstinacy. "Go back beyond the gunstack,

and stay there. Don't you come nearer the door than the other side of

the stack."

Shorty's dander rose up at once. At any other time he would have

conclusions with the Sergeant then and there. But the remembrance of his

charge laid a repressive hand upon his quick choler, and reminded him

that any kind of a row would probably mean a night in the guard-house,

his gun in some other man's hands, probably lost forever, and so on. He

decided to defer thrashing the Sergeant until his return, when he would

give it to him with interest. He shouldered his gun, paced up and down,

watching with watering mouth the rest luxuriating in a hot supper with

fragrant coffee and appetizing viands, to which his mouth had been a

stranger for many long months. It cost a severe struggle, but he

triumphed.

Si, in his own hungry eagerness, had not missed him, until his own

appetite began to be appeased by the vigorous onslaught he made on the

eatables. Then he looked around for his partner, and was horrified not

to find him by his side.

"Where's Shorty," he anxiously inquired.

Each looked at the other in surprise, and asked:

"Why, ain't he here?"

"No, confound it; he ain't here," said Si, excitedly springing to his

feet; "he has been knocked down and robbed."

Si bolted out, followed by the rest. They saw Shorty marching up and

down as a sentinel sternly military, and holding his Springfield as

rigidly correct as if in front of the Colonel's quarters.

"What's the matter with you, Shorty? Why don't you come in to supper?"

called out Si. "It's a mighty good square meal. Come on in."

"Can't do it. Don't want no supper. Ain't hungry. Got business out

here," answered Shorty, who had gotten one of his rare fits of

considering himself a martyr.

"Nonsense," said Si. "Put your gun in the stack and come in. It's a

bully supper. Best we've had for a year."

"Well, eat it, then," answered Shorty crustily. "I've got something more

important to think of than good suppers."

"O, rats! It's as safe in there as out here. Set your gun down and come

on in."

"This gun shall not leave my side till we're home," said Shorty in a

tone that would have become the Roman sentinel at Pompeii.

"O, I forgot," said Si. "Well, bring it in with you."

"Can't do it. Strictly agin orders to take any guns inside. But leave me

alone. Go back and finish your gorge. I kin manage to hold out somehow,"

answered Shorty in a tone of deep resignation that made Si want to box

his ears.

"That's too bad. But I'll tell you what we can do. I've had a purty good

feed already enough to last me to Looeyville. Let me take your gun. I'll

carry it while you go in and fill up. We hain't much time left."

The fragrance of the coffee, the smell of the fried ham smote Shorty's

olfactories with almost irresistible force. He wavered just a little—.

"Si, I'd trust you as I would no other man in Co. Q or the regiment.

I'll—"

Then his Spartan virtue reasserted itself:

"No, Si; you're too young and skittish. You mean well, but you have

spells, when—"

"Fall in, men," said Lieut. Bowersox, bustling out from a good meal in

the officers' room. "Fall in promptly. We must hurry up to catch the

Looeyville train."

The car for Louisville was filled with characters as to whom there was

entirely too much ground for fear—gamblers, "skin-game" men, thieves,

and all the human vermin that hang around the rear of a great army.

Neither of the boys allowed themselves a wink of sleep, but sat bolt

upright the entire night, watching everyone with steady, stern eyes.

They recognized all the rascals they had seen "running games" around the

camps at Murfreesboro, and who had been time and again chased out of

camp even the whisky seller with whom Si's father had the adventure. The

Provost-Guard had been making one of its periodical cleaning-ups of

Nashville, and driving out the obnoxious characters. Several of these

had tried to renew their acquaintance by offering drinks from well-

filled bottles, but they were sternly repulsed, and Shorty quietly

knocked one persistent fellow down with a quick whirl of his gun-barrel.

When Shorty was hungry it was dangerous to trifle with him.

They arrived at Louisville late in the morning, and were hurried across

the river to Jeffersonville. Fortunately they were able to find there an

eating-room where guns were not barred, and Shorty made amends for the

past by ravaging as far as his arms could reach, holding his precious

gun firmly between his knees.

"Say, pardner," said the man who ran the establishment, "I'd much rather

board you for a day than a week. Rebels must've cut off the supply-

trains where you've bin. You're not comin' this way agin soon, air you?

I'm afraid I won't make 'nough this month to pay my rent."

Lieut. Bowersox came in with a telegram in his hand.

"We won't go on to Indianapolis," he said. "I'm ordered to wait here for

our squad, which will probably get here by to-morrow evening."

A wild hope flashed up in Si's mind.

"Lieutenant," he said, "we live right over there in Posey County. Can't

you let us go home? We can make it, and be back here before to-morrow

night."

"I don't know," said the Lieutenant doubtfully, as he mentally

calculated the distance to Posey County. "I hadn't ought to let you go.

Then, you can't have more than an hour or two at home."

"O,' goodness; just think o' havin' one hour at home," ejaculated Si.

"It seems too bad," continued the Lieutenant, moved by Si's earnestness,

"to bring you this near, and not let you have a chance to see your

folks.

"It'll be a risk for me, and there are not many men in the regiment I'd

take it for, but I'll let you go.

"Remember, it'll make a whole lot of trouble for me if you're not here

by to-morrow evening."

"We'll be here by to-morrow evening, if alive," he pledged himself.

"Well, then, go," said the Lieutenant.

Si's head fairly swam, and he and Shorty ran so fast to make sure of the

train that there was a suspicion in the minds of some of the citizens

that they were escaping from their officers.

Si's heart was in a tumult as the engine-bell rang its final warning and

the engine moved out with increasing speed. Every roll of the swift

wheels was carrying him nearer the dearest ones on earth. The landscape

seemed to smile at him as he sped past.

"Isn't this the grandest country on earth, Shorty?" he bubbled over.

"It's God's country for a fact. So different from old run-down, rebel-

ridden Tennessee. Look at the houses and the farms; look at the people

and the live-stock. Look at the towns and the churches. Look at

everything. Here's the country where people live. Down yonder's only

where they stay and raise Cain."

"Yes," admitted Shorty, who had not so much reason for being

enthusiastic; "but the Wisconsin boys say that Wisconsin's as much finer

than Injianny as Injianny's finer'n Tennessee. I'll take you up there

some day and show you."

"Don't believe a dumbed word of it," said Si, hot with State pride. "God

never made a finer country than Injianny. Wisconsin's nowhere."

Then he bethought himself of the many reasons he had for gladness in his

home-coming which his partner had not, and said thoughtfully:

"I wish, Shorty, you wuz goin' home, too, to your father and mother and

sisters, and—and best girl. But my father and mother'll be as glad to

see you as if you was their own son, and the girls'll make just as much

of you, and mebbe you'll find another girl there that's purtier and

better, and—"

"Stop right there, Si Klegg," said Shorty. "All girls is purty and nice

that is, them that is purty and nice, but some's purtier and nicer than

others. Then, agin, one's a hundred times purtier and nicer than any o'

them. I've no doubt that the girls out your way are much purtier and

nicer'n the general run o' girls, but none o' them kin hold a candle to

that girl up in Wisconsin, and I won't have you sayin' so."

"If we're on time," said Si, by way of changing the subject, "we'll git

to the station about sundown. The farm's about three miles from the

station, and we'll reach home after supper. Pap'll be settin' out on the

front porch, smokin', and readin' the Cincinnati Gazette, and mother'll

be settin' beside him knittin', and the girls'll be clearin' away the

supper things. My, won't they be surprised to see us! Won't there be a

time! And won't mother and the girls fly around to git us something to

eat! Won't they shake up that old cook-stove, and grind coffee, and fry

ham and eggs, and bake biscuits, and git us cool, sweet milk and

delicious butter from the old spring-house, and talk all the time!

Shorty, you never heard my sisters talk, especially when they're a

little excited. Gracious, they'll just talk the ears off both of us."

"Well, if they take after you, they are talkers from Talkville," said

Shorty. "Mill-wheels ain't in it with your tongue, when it gits fairly

started."

The train was on time, and just as the sun was setting behind the fringe

of cottonwoods along Bean Blossom Creek they stopped at the little

station, and started to walk out to the farm. A neighbor who was drawing

a load of tile from the station recognized Si, and begged them to get up

and ride, but the team was too slow for the impatient boys, and they

forged ahead. A thousand well-remembered objects along the road would

have arrested Si's attention were it not for the supreme interest

farther on. At last they came to a little rise of ground which commanded

a view of the house, and there, as Si predicted, sat his father and

mother engaged in smoking, reading and knitting. His first impulse was

to yell with delight, but he restrained himself, and walked as steadily

on as he could to the front gate. Old Towser set up a bark and ran down

the walk, and then changed his note to de lightful yelps of recognition.

Si was so nervous that he fumbled vainly for a minute at the gate-latch,

and while he did so he heard his mother say: "Father, there's a couple

o' soldiers out there." "Wonder if they kin be from Si's company," said

the father, lowering his paper, and looking over his spectacles.

'father, There's a Couple of Soldiers out There.' 159

"Why, it's Si himself," screamed the mother in joyful accents. The next

instant she had sped down the walk quicker than she had ever gone in her

girlhood days, her arms about his neck, and she was crying on his

shoulder.

CHAPTER XIII. MANY HAPPY EVENTS HOURS THAT WERE ALL-TOO-FEW AND ALL-TOO-

SHORT.

THE girls heard their mother's happy scream and rushed out, dish towels

in hand. They at once realized what had happened, piped up their joyous

altos, and precipitated themselves upon Si. The good old Deacon came

trotting down the walk, fidgeting with his spectacles, but so enveloped

was his son with skirts and women's arms and happy, teary faces that he

could not get within arm's length of him. So he turned to Shorty:

"Great day, Shorty, but I'm glad to see you! Come right up on the steps

and set down. How'd you happen to come home. Either of you sick or

wounded?"

"Nope," answered Shorty sententiously. "Both sound as nuts and healthy

as mules."

"Well, come right up on the porch and set down. You must be awful tired.

Le'me carry your gun and things for you."

He took hold of the gun with such a desire to do something that Shorty

was fain to yield it, saying:

"Deacon, you are the first man in about a million betwixt here and the

Tennessee River that I'd let tech that gun. I don't know now of another

man in the United States that I'd trust it with. That 'ere gun is loaded

plum full of other folks's money."

"Goodness, is that so?" said the Deacon, handling the musket with

increased respect. "I've heard o' a bar'l o' money, but never supposed

that it was a gun bar'l."

"And more'n that," continued Shorty, "there's a full-grown cartridge

below that might shoot a war widow's new dress and shoes for the

children off into the moon."

"Goodness gracious!" ejaculated the Deacon, holding out the gun as he

did Si the first time that interesting infant was placed in his hands,

"handlin' other people's money's always ticklish business, but this's a

leetle the ticklishest I ever heard of."

"That's what bin wearin' me down to the bone," responded Shorty soberly,

and as they reached the porch he explained the situation to the Deacon,

who took the gun in the house, and laid it carefully on a bed in the

"spare room."

"Girls, you're smotherin' me! Let up, won't you? Mandy, you dabbed that

wet dishcloth right in my eye then. Maria, I can't talk or even breathe

with your arm over my windpipe. You, dear mother, I'll pick you up and

carry you into the house, if you'll let me," Si was trying to say. "I

can't answer all your questions at once, 'specially when you're shuttin'

off my breath an' dinnin' my ears till I can't hear myself think."

"Le's carry your things up, Si," said Maria, after Si had gotten them

calmed down a little. "You must be awful tired."

Si saw that this would be the best way to keep the girls off, while he

devoted his attention to his mother. He handed his gun and belt to

Maria, who marched on ahead, triumphantly waving her dish-towel as a

gonfalon of victory, while she cheered for the Union in her sweet

contralto. Mandy took possession of his blanket roll and haversack,

while Si almost carried his tearful mother on to the porch. There her

housewifely instinct at once asserted it self.

"I know you and your friend there must jest be starvin'," she said,

gathering herself up. "I never knowed when you wasn't, if you'd bin an

hour from the table."

"Shorty's worse'n me," said Si with a grin. "But I haven't interduced

him yit. Mother, girls, this is Shorty, my pardner, and the best pardner

a feller ever had."

"Glad to know you, Mr. Shorty," said they, shaking his hand. "We've

heard so much of you that we feel that we've knowed you all along."

"Drop the Mister, then," said Shorty. "I'm plain Shorty to everybody

until I'm out o' the army. I've heard so much of you that I feel, too,

that I've bin acquainted with you all my life."

"Girls," commanded the mother, "come on and let's git the boys something

to eat."

"No, mother," pleaded Si, holding fast to her hand. "Let the girls do

it. I want you to sit here and talk to me."

"No, Si," answered the mother, kissing him again, and releasing her

hand, "I must do it myself. I must cook your supper for you. The girls

won't do it half well enough."

She hustled away to the kitchen, and Si and Shorty explained to the

Deacon the circumstances of their visit, and that they must leave by the

next train going east, in order to keep their promise to Lieut.

Bowersox. The Deacon immediately started Abraham Lincoln and the boy on

saddle horses to bring in the neighbors to see the boys, and get the

money that had been sent them. They went into an inner room, carefully

blinded the windows, and began to draw out the money from various

pockets, cartridge-boxes, and other receptacles about their persons.

All drew a long breath of relief when, counting that in Shorty's gun,

every dollar was found to be safe.

"But how in time you're ever goin' to git that money out o' that gun

beats me," said the Deacon, picking up the musket, and gazing dubiously

into the muzzle. "It was a mighty smart thing to do down at the front,

but what are you going to do now, when you want to give the money to the

people it belongs to?"

"It certainly don't seem as smart as it did that night on the banks o'

the Tennessee," Shorty admitted as he fixed his bullet screw on the end

of his rammer, "but I'm goin' to trust to my own smartness and the

Providence that provides for war widows and orphans to git out every

dollar in good shape for them it was intended for."

The bullet-screw brought out the first "wad" easily and all right.

The First Wad Came out Easily and All Right. 165

"Well, Providence is lookin' out for Jim Irvin's wife and children all

right," said Shorty, as they smoothed out the bills and found them

intact.

The next attempt was equally successful, and as Shorty unrolled the

bills he remarked:

"Providence is again overlookin'. There's Jim Beardslee's $50 for his

widowed mother."

"And she needs it, poor woman," said the Deacon. "I've seen that she had

all the meat and wood she's needed since Jim enlisted, and Deacon

Flagler keeps her in flour."

The next offered more difficulty. The rammings on those above had

compacted it pretty solidly. The bullet screw cut off bits of it, and

when finally it was gotten out the $10 bill was in pieces.

"That's Alf Ellerby's gift to his lame sister," said Shorty, as he

ruefully surveyed the fragments. "I'm afraid Providence wasn't mindin'

just then, but I'll give her a good bill out o' my own pocket."

"No, you needn't," said Maria, who had slipped in, fork in hand, to

pinch Si, kiss him, and ask him a question which she did not want Mandy

to hear; "I kin paste that all together with white of egg so's it'll

look as good as ever. I done that with a bill that Towser snatched out

o' my hand and chawed before I could git it away from him. The store

keeper took it and said it was just as good as any. Sophy Ellerby 'd

rather have it that way than a new bill, so long's it comes direct from

Alf."

Again Shorty sent down the bullet screw, and again there was more

tearing off of bits, and finally a mangled $20 bill was dragged forth

and laid aside for Mandy to repair. "Ike Englehardt sent that to his

mother to help take his sister through the Normal School, so's she kin

become a teacher. She'll git that all right. But I've broken my bullet

screw in that wrastle. It snapped clean off, and I've got the worst job

of all now to get out $100 in two 50's that Abe Trelawney sent his

mother to meet that mortgage on her little house. Abe's bin savin' it up

for months, and I was more anxious about it than any other, and so I put

it down first. Si, let me have your bullet-screw."

"Hain't got none. Lost mine weeks ago, while we was on the Tullahomy

march."

"Great Jehosephat! what am I goin' to do?" groaned Shorty, the sweat

starting out on his fore head. "Now's the time for Providence to help

out, if He's goin' to. I'm at the end o' my string."

"Supper's ready, boys; come on in," announced the sweet, motherly voice

of Mrs. Klegg. She seconded her invitation with her arm around Si and a

kiss on his cheek. "Father, bring Shorty, unless he'd rather walk with

the girls."

Shorty was altogether too bashful to take advantage of the direct hint.

Si's lively sisters filled him with a nervous dread of his social

shortcomings. He grew very red in the face, hung back from them, and

caught hold of the Deacon's arm.

"Go slow with him, girls," whispered the Deacon to his daughters, after

they were seated at the table. "He's a mighty good boy, but he ain't

used to girls."

"He's rather good looking, if he does act sheepish," returned Mandy.

"Well, he ain't a mite sheepish when there's serious business on hand,"

returned the father. "And next to ourselves, he's the best friend your

brother has."

It had been many years since the wandering, rough-living Shorty had sat

down to such an inviting, well-ordered table. Probably he never had. No

people in the whole world live better than the prosperous Indiana

farmers, and Mrs. Klegg was known far and wide for her housewifely

talents. The snowy table linen, the spotless dishes, the tastefully-

prepared food would have done credit to a royal banquet. Hungry as he

was, the abashed Shorty fidgeted in his chair, and watched Si begin

before he ventured to make an attack. The mother and girls were too busy

plying Si with questions and anticipating his wants to notice Shorty's

embarrassment.

Si was making a heroic effort to eat everything in sight, to properly

appreciate all the toothsome things that loving hands were pressing upon

him, and to answer the myriad of questions that were showered upon him,

and to get in a few questions of his own at the same time. He just found

time to ask Shorty:

"Say, this is great this 's like livin', ain't it?"

And Shorty replied with deep feeling: "Just out o' sight. How in the

world'd you ever come to enlist and leave all this?"

The neighbors began gathering in fathers, mothers and sisters of members

of Co. Q, all full of eager questions as to their kindred, and this

relieved Shorty, for he could tell them quite as well as Si.

The supper ended, the problem of the money in the gun again loomed up.

Everyone had an opinion as to how to extricate the valuable charge. The

women, of course, suggested hair-pins, but these were tried without

success. A gimlet taken from its handle and secured to the ramrod,

refused to take hold.

Somebody suggested shooting the gun across a pond of water, and getting

the money that way, but it was decided that the force of the Springfield

seemed too great for any body of water in the neighborhood. Then Jabe

Clemmons, the "speculative" genius of the neighborhood, spoke up:

"Gentlemen, I've an idee. Deacon, how much is in that small haystack of

your'n?"

"'Bout 10 tons," answered the Deacon.

"Jest about. Well, I'll pay you the regular market price for it, and

give $100 to Miss Trelawney. Now, let this gentleman stand 50 feet from

it and shoot his gun at it. He mustn't tell none of us where he aims at.

I'll sell you, gentlemen, that hay in 40 quarter-ton lots, commencing at

the top, each man to pay $2 besides the regular price for a quarter ton

o' hay, an' we'll draw numbers as to our turns in takin' the fodder."

"Looks somethin' like gamblin'," demurred the Deacon.

"No more'n church lotteries," answered Jabe, "since it's for a good

purpose. Now, gentlemen, who wants to buy a quarter ton of Deacon

Klegg's first-class hay?"

At once he had replies enough to take the whole stack, but while he was

writing down the names Deacon Klegg had another idea.

"I can't quite git my mind reconciled to gamblin', even for a good

purpose," he said. "And I ain't sure about how the two 50's 'll strike

the haystack. It'd be a sin if they were destroyed, as they are likely

to be. I've another idee. My well there is 25 foot deep. Let's take the

bucket out, and let Shorty shoot his gun straight down into the well. I

believe the money'll come out all right. If it don't I'll make it up

myself, rather than be a party to a gamble."

"May blow the bottom o' your old well out," muttered Jabe Clemmons, who

dearly loved anything in the shape of a game of hazard.

"I'll resk that," said the Deacon. "I kin dig an other well, if

necessary."

The Deacon's proposal was carried. Shorty, holding the butt of his gun

carefully upright, fired down into the well. A boy was lowered in the

bucket, and soon announced by a joyful cry that he had gotten the bills.

Upon being brought up and examined they were found to be uninjured, ex

cept by a slight singeing at the edges.

"Providence's agin managin' things," murmured Shorty gratefully; "but

the Deacon's gumption helped out."

All the money for those not present to receive it in person was turned

over to the Deacon, and then for the first time the boys felt relieved

of a great responsibility.

"There are two trains goin' east," said the Deacon, in response to their

inquiries as to the facilities for returning. "The through express

passes here at 3:15, and it'll git you to Jeffersonville early in the

morning. The accommodation passes about day break, and it'll git you

there in the evenin', if it makes connections, which it often doesn't."

"We must go on the through express," said Si firmly. There was a loud

outcry by the mother and sisters, but the father recognized the demands

of military discipline.

Si began to fidget to get away from the crowd of eager inquirers, which

Mandy noticing, she found opportunity to whisper:

"Don't fret. She'll be here presently."

Si's face burned. He had thought his secret well-kept, but here his

sisters read his thoughts like an open book. He had wanted to go to

Annabel, and have a few golden minutes alone with her. Just what for

just what he would say or do he did not in the least know he could not

imagine. Only he felt that in some way the main interest of his life

depended on seeing her somewhere remote from curious eyes and listening

ears. He wanted to go to her, not to have her come to him, and meet him

in such a throng as was gathered at his home.

While these thoughts were coursing through his mind he heard Maria call:

"Si, come here into my room. I want to show you the purtiest thing you

ever saw."

While Mandy was a most correct young woman, she could not withstand

giving a significant wink to those around, to which they responded with

knowing smiles. These, fortunately, Si did not see. He arose at once,

the people made way, and he was led by Maria to her room. She opened the

door and said:

"There, now, kiss me for a loving sister."

It was a fervent kiss that Si rewarded her with, for, there, rising from

her chair as the door opened, dressed in her best, and her face wreathed

with smiles and blushes, stood Annabel.

"Since you are so mean about goin' away so soon, you can only have 10

minutes together; make the most of it," laughed Maria, and she scudded

back to the sitting-room.

Si stood for an instant dazed. How beautiful she was far more so than

his recollections had painted her. She had blossomed out from the

school-girl into the mature woman, and every feature ripened. Fair as

his home seemed in contrast with the country he had left, she seemed

still fairer in contrast with any woman he had ever seen. Where were the

thousand things that, brooding by the campfire and lying in his tent, he

thought over to say to her when they met? All forgotten or dismissed as

inappropriate. He simply stood and gazed at her. She re covered herself

first, and said teasingly:

"Well, how do you do? Ain't you going to speak? Ain't you glad to see

me?"

Si could only step forward and take her hand, and murmur:

'annabel, How Purty You Look.' 173

"Annabel, how purty you look. How you've growed, and all purtier. I'm

awfully glad to see you. That's what I most wanted to come home for."

Then his face burned with new blushes to think how much he had said.

They sat down, he still holding her hand, with his eyes fixed upon her

face. Somehow, in the mysterious telegraphy of first love, they so fully

understood one another that words were unnecessary.

Speechless, but fuller of happiness than they ever dreamed was possible

in the world, they sat with clasped hands until Maria came back, calling

out:

"Time's up. The folks say that they can't let Annabel have you any

longer. Come into the sitting-room, both of you. Come along, Si. Come

along, Annabel."

Si rose obediently, but Annabel declined to go. She did not say why, but

Maria, with a woman's instincts, knew that she wanted to be alone to

think it all over. Maria therefore hurried back.

"Good-by, Annabel," he said, pressing her hand again. "I'll write to you

first thing when I git back."

"Good-by, Si. God keep you for me, safe through battles and dangers."

She turned away to hide her bursting tears.

It was astonishing how quick midnight came. When the clock striking 12

smote the ears of the family, nobody had said, heard or asked one tithe

of what he or she was burning eager to, yet the parting was but a little

more than two brief hours away.

With a heart heavier even than when she parted from her boy for the

first time, Mrs. Klegg arose, and sought to distract her thoughts by

collecting as big a package as they could carry of the choicest

eatables. How often she stopped to cry softly into her apron not even

the girls knew, for she was resolved to keep up a brave front,

especially before Si, and would carefully wash all traces of tears from

her face, and clear the sobs from her throat before re-entering the room

where he was.

Shorty had at once been taken to the hearts of everyone, and all the

older men urged him to "come back here as soon as the war's over, marry

a nice girl, and settle down among us."

Si received many compliments upon his development into such a fine,

stalwart man.

One after another said:

"Si, what a fine, big man you've growed into. I declare, you're a credit

to your father and mother and the settlement. We all expect you to come

back a Captain or a Colonel, and we'll run you for Sheriff or County

Commissioner, or something as big."

"O, anything but Treasurer," Si would laughingly reply. "I've had enough

handling other folks' money to last me my life."

Presently Abraham Lincoln brought the spring wagon around. Even in the

moonlight Si could see that freedom and the Deacon's tuition had

developed the ex-slave into a much better man than the wretched runaway

whom his father had protected. He wanted to know more of him, but there

were too many demands upon his attention. They all mounted into the

wagon, the bundles were piled in, one last embrace from his mother, and

they drove away, reaching the station just in time to catch the train.

As he kissed Maria good-by she shoved a letter into his hand, saying:

"This is from Annabel. Read it after you git on."

As the train whirled away Si made an excuse to go away from Shorty, and

standing up under the lamp in the next car he read on a tear-stained

sheet:

"Deer Si: I wanted so much to tel you, but the words wooddent come to my

lips, that Ime yours til deth, no matter what happens, and Ime shure you

feel the saim way. Annabel."

Coming back with his heart in a tumult of rapture, he found his partner

fast asleep and even snoring.

CHAPTER XIV. THE FRISKY YOUNGSTERS TRYING TO LICK A BATCH OF RECRUITS

INTO SHAPE.

FOR awhile the tumult of thought kept Si awake, but he was too young,

healthy, and tired for this to last long, and soon he had his head

pillowed on his blanket-roll, placed in the open car-window, and was

sleeping too sound to even dream of Annabel, while the rushing train

pelted his face with cinders from the engine and a hail of gravel from

the road-bed. But what was that to a soldier-boy who had been home, seen

his best girl, and had one of his mother's square meals?

When the train rolled into Jeffersonville in the afternoon, they saw

Lieut. Bowersox on the platform anxiously waiting for them. His face

lighted up with pleasure when he saw them, and eagerly coming forward he

said:

"Great Cesar, boys, but I'm glad you've come. I've been waiting for you

all day. Rush orders came last night to send everybody to the front. I

guess they are in need of every gun they can get. I should have gone

last night, but I managed to stave off my orders till now. If you hadn't

come on this train, though, I should 've had to go on with out you.

Hurry along, now. We are going right across the river."

Despite the Lieutenant's urgency, Si found time to hand him a jar of

honey and a small crock of butter from their home supplies, which he

received with proper appreciation, and handed over to the grinning negro

boy he had picked up somewhere in Tennessee for a servant. They followed

the Lieutenant to where he had his squad of about 100 recruits gathered.

He said:

"Here, Klegg, you will act as Orderly-Sergeant, and Shorty and the rest

of you as Sergeants of this detachment. Here is the list of them, Klegg.

Make up a roll and call it whenever I order you to do so."

Si took the list and looked over the crowd. They were mainly boys of

about the same age and style as himself when he first enlisted, but he

thought he had never seen so green, gawky a lot in the world. Like him

then, every one was weighted down with a bundle of things that would

evidently be contributed to the well-being of the people along the line

of march.

It seemed to him that they stood around the platform in as ugly

crookedness as a lodgment of driftwood on a Wabash bottom after a

freshet.

"Where on the Wea prairies," muttered Shorty, "did Old Abe pick up that

job lot o' wind shaken, lopsided saplings? Must've bin pulled when green

and warped in the dryin'."

"Well, we've got to git 'em into some sort o' shape," answered Si. "You

must help."

"I help?" returned Shorty despairingly. "You'll need a West Point

perfessor and a hay-press to git that crowd into soldier shape. I ain't

once."

"Here, Sergeant," ordered Lieut. Bowersox, "line the men up, count them,

learn their names, and give them a little preliminary drill, while I go

to Headquarters and see the Colonel again about our transportation."

"Fall in, boys; fall in," commanded Si.

The crowd looked at him curiously. They knew that he wanted them to do

something, they were willing to do it, but they hadn't the slightest

idea what it was. They made a move by huddling up a little toward him.

"Fall in in two ranks, with the right here," shouted Si.

There was more inconsequent huddling, which seemed so purposely awkward

that it irritated Si, and he spoke sharply:

"Gosh all Krismuss, what's the matter with you lunkheads? Don't you know

nothing? You're dummer'n a lot o' steers."

"Guess we know 'bout as much as you did when you first enlisted," said

the smallest of the lot, a red-cheeked, bright-eyed boy, who looked as

if he should have been standing up before a blackboard "doing a sum" in

long division, instead of on his way to the field of strife. "Show us

how, and we'll learn as quick as you did."

Si looked at the fresh young boy. There was something actually girlish

in his face, and it reminded him of Annabel. His heart softened toward

him at once, and he remembered his own early troubles. He said gently to

the boy:

"You're right. What's your name, my boy?"

"Abel Waite."

"Well, Abel, we'll make a soldier out of you in a little while. You are

the smallest; you'll be the left of the line. Go and stand there at the

corner. Now, boys, all lay your bundles down. Here, you tall fellow,

what's your name?"

"James Bradshaw."

"Well, Bradshaw, you'll be the right of the line all the time, and the

rest 'll form on you. Come, stand here."

Bradshaw shambled forward in a way that made Shorty call out:

"Here, Bradshaw, wake up! You ain't now follerin' a plow over the last

year's corn-furrers. Straighten up, lift them mud-hooks livelier and

drop your hands to your side."

The man stopped, raised his hands, and looked at Shorty with his mouth

wide open.

"Come, Bradshaw," said Si gently, taking hold of him, "I'll show you.

Now you stand right here. Put your heels together. Now turn your toes

out. Throw your shoulders back this way. Close your mouth. Put your

little fingers on the seams of your pantaloons that way. Now stand just

so."

The poor man looked as miserable as if put in a strait-jacket, but tried

to literally obey instructions.

"Now, what's your name?" Si asked the next tall est man.

"Simeon Wheelwright."

"Wheelwright, you stand behind Bradshaw, just as he does."

And so Si went painstakingly through the whole squad until he came to

Abel Waite, whom he found did not need any instruction, for he had

profited by hearing the lectures to the others, and was standing as

stiff and correct as a veteran could have done.

"Great outfit," remarked Shorty, walking down the line, gun in hand, and

surveying it critically. "Looks like a mourners' bench froze stiff.

Here, you red-headed man there, take in that corporation. You won't have

so much bay window after you've lived on army rations awhile."

"Now," commanded Si, "when I say 'Count twos from the right,' I want you

to begin and count. The first man you, Bradshaw says 'one,' and the next

man on your left says 'two' and so on. The men in the rear rank do the

same. Count twos from the right Count!"

"One, two; four, six; seven, nine; ten, 'leven," shouted the boys, in

all manner of tones and general bewilderment.

"Stop it; stop it!" yelled Si, his temper again rising. "Great day,

can't you fellers understand plain English when it's talked to you?

What's the matter with you, anyway? Here, Bradshaw, when I give the

order to count, you count one. Wheel wright, you count one at the same

time. Williams and Talbot, you each count two. Then Aldrich, you and

Reynolds count one, and so on."

At last he got them to count to his satisfaction, and then proceeded to

the next lesson.

"Now, at the command 'right face' everybody face to the right. The No. 1

men in the front rank stand fast. The No. 1 men in the rear rank take a

side step to the right. The No. 2 men each take a side step to the

right, and places himself on the right of No. 1."

"Great Jehosephat, Si," remonstrated Shorty; "it'll take 'em a month to

learn all that."

"Don't care if it does," said Si desperately. "They've got to learn it

sometime, and they can't learn no younger. Might as well begin now as

any time. 'Tention! Right face!"

Si had hard work restraining the angry words which fumed up when he saw

the execution of his command. Only a few had turned to the right. The

rest had either stood still, turned to the left or were turning first

one way and then another, to adjust themselves to those nearest them.

"Looks like a political primary just before the vote's called," remarked

Shorty. "Better git red rags to tie around their right hands, so's

they'll know 'em."

"It'll be a shame to take them across the Ohio river in this shape,"

said Si in deep vexation. "They'll shoot one another's heads off in the

first fight, if they've guns in their hands."

"Don't worry," answered Shorty consolingly. "They'll pick it up mighty

fast as soon as they see other fellers doing it, and 'll be in purty

good shape by the time we git 'em to the regiment. We was just as green

as they are."

Si repressed his petulant words with an effort, and started in to give

them an ocular demonstration of the way to execute "right face," but was

interrupted by the Lieutenant coming up and saying:

"Here, we've got to move right out to catch the ferryboat and the train

on the other side. 'Tention! Pick up your bundles. Forward, march!"

The Recruits Lined up on the Platform. 186

Tactics were forgotten in a go-as-you-please rush on to the ferryboat,

through the streets of Louisville, and on to the cars for Nashville.

Everybody else was doing the same. The boat and streets were filled and

the depot yard packed with men all pushing forward for the "front."

While Si, walking alongside the Lieutenant, led, Shorty and the rest of

the detail brought up the rear. After they had scrambled into the old

freight cars and stowed them selves away, Si looked over his squad and

counted it.

"Have you got them all aboard, Sergeant?" in quired Lieut. Bowersox.

"I've got the right number, sir," Si answered, saluting; "and if they

ain't all the same men they're just as good."

"All right," returned the officer. "I had 103 put in my charge to take

to the regiment, and 103 men I must have when I get there."

"You shall have the full 103, Lieutenant," assured Shorty, "if we have

to snatch in a native or two to take the place of some that fall through

the cracks."

At Nashville the crowd and confusion were excessive; detachments of men

of all kinds, sorts and conditions armed and unarmed recruits,

convalescent veterans, men coming back from furlough, stragglers under

guard, squads of Quartermaster's employees, gangs of railroad laborers

and bridge-builders were all surging around, while their officers,

superintendents, foremen, etc., shouted themselves hoarse in trying to

get their men together and keep them so. When Si at last got his men on

board, and the train had moved out, he was dismayed to find that he was

five short.

"They was lost in that shuffle back there in the depot," said Shorty.

"Lucky it wa'n't more. Wonder that we ever got through as well as we

did."

"What in the world am I going to do?" inquired Si dolefully. "There's no

use sending back for them. They've probably got mixed up with some other

squads, and gone the Lord knows where. They haven't sense enough to find

their regiment in such a ruck as this."

Si counted his men over again, with no better result.

"I've got an idee," said Shorty, as Si came up to commune again with him

as to the misfortune. "I noticed five mighty lively young Irishmen in

that bridge gang that's on the rear car, and I've got a pint flash of

whisky that some fellow was green enough to lay down while we was there

in Nash ville. I'm goin' back to that car on recruitin' duty."

Si, unable to think of anything better, went with him. The train had

stopped on a switch, and seemed likely to rust fast to the rails, from

the way other trains were going by in both directions. The bridge gang,

under charge of a burly, red-faced young Englishman, was in the rear

car, with their tools, equipments, bedding and cooking utensils.

The English foreman was a recent arrival in the country. This was his

first employment here. Naturally surly and domineering, these qualities

were enhanced by potations at Nashville and since leaving.

Si and Shorty strolled up to the young Irishmen, who were standing on

the ground near their car. They were very plainly recent arrivals, for

they still wore the characteristic clothes of the Emerald Isle, and

after a little conversation with them Shorty produced his bottle and

offered them a drink. The foreman had watched them suspiciously, and he

came swaggering up, saying insolently:

"'Ere, you bloomin' sojer, Hi want you to keep haway from my men, hand

not be a-givin' them drink. You stay by yourselves, hand Hi won't 'ave

'em hinterfered wi' by nobuddy."

"Your men," sneered Shorty. "You talk as if they was niggers, and not

white men. Who made 'em yours?"

"Stow yer wid, ye bloody blue-jack," returned the foreman

contemptuously, "hand pull ha way from here. Hi never could bear sojers

blokes, too lazy to work hand too cowardly to steal. Hike out o' here,

and shut you 'ead, hif you know w'at's well for you."

"Shut up your own head, you British blowhard," retorted Shorty, "and

mind your own business. Wait until you are a little longer in the

country be fore you try to run it. And I don't want no more o' your

slack. If you don't keep a civil tongue in your head I'll make you."

The Englishman was just in the mood to be savagely tickled at the

prospect of a fight. He had not had a good, square one since he had been

in the country, and nothing yet had offered so gratifying as the

prospect of polishing off one of the despised "Hamerican sojers."

Several of the hated officers had strolled up, attracted by the high

words, and it would be an additional pleasure to thrash one of their men

before their eyes, in revenge for the slights he felt they had put upon

him.

"You won't fight," he said disdainfully, "except with a gun or a knife,

like a bloody Dago. Ye dassent put up yer 'ands like a man."

For response, Shorty handed his cap, his gun, his bottle, his blanket-

roll, his belt and haversack to Si, rolled up his sleeves, spit on his

hands, doubled his fists, and stepped forward into a boxing attitude.

"Balance up to me, you beer-bloated Britisher," he exclaimed, "and git

naturalized by a real Star-Spangled Banner lickin' by an artist who kin

comb down any man that owes allegiance to Queen Victoree. Here's a

Heenan for your Tom Sayers."

The Englishman began disrobing with an alacrity that showed how much his

heart was in it. A ring was speedily formed, the officers, mainly

Lieutenants and Captains, eagerly assisting, while keeping their eyes

over their shoulders to see that no one of much higher rank was in the

neighborhood.

When the men confronted one another it was seen that they were a fairly-

good match. The English man was stouter and heavier; he showed a

splendid forearm, with corresponding swelling muscles near the

shoulders, and the way he poised himself and put up his hands revealed

that he had "science" as well as strength and courage. Shorty was taller

and more spare, but he was quicker and had the longer reach. It looked

as if the Englishman had the advantage, from his solid strength and

staying power, as well as "science." But those who looked on Shorty as

inferior did not know of the training he had received among the

turbulent crews of the Mississippi River boats. A man who had summered

and wintered with that fractious race had little to learn in any trick

or device of fighting.

The first round showed that both were past-masters of ring tactics.

Their wardings and layings for openings were so perfect that neither

could get a blow in.

When they stopped for a moment to breathe the Englishman said with frank

admiration:

"Y're a heap better lot than Hi thort yer. Where'd ye learn to handle

yer dukes?"

"Never mind where I learned," answered Shorty. "I learned enough to git

away with any English man that ever chawed roast beef."

Again they closed, and sparred quick and hard for advantage, but neither

succeeded in getting in any thing but light, ineffective blows. Each

realized that the other was a dangerous man to handle, and each kept

cool and watched his chances. When they took another second to breathe

the Englishman said:

"I'm goin' to settle ye this time, young feller, in spite o' yer

fibbin'. Ye peck around me like a cock pickin' up corn, but I'll bust

ye. Look hout for yerself."

He made a savage rush to break through Shorty's guard by main force, but

Shorty evaded him by a quick movement, the Englishman struck his toe

against a piece of railroad iron, and fell to his knees. Shorty had him

at his mercy, but he merely stepped back a little further, and waited

for his opponent to rise and regain his position before he again

advanced to the attack.