him to him. There was something fascinatingly mysterious in his tones
and actions to that youth, who devoured dime novels on the sly.
"Sammy," said Shorty, "I'm goin' away, right off, and I don't want the
people in the house to know nothin' of it. I want you to help me."
"You bet I will," responded the boy, with his eyes dancing. "Goin' to
run away? I'm goin to run away myself some day. I'm awful tired o'
havin' to git up in the mornin', wash my face and comb my hair, and do
the chores, and kneel down at family prayers, and go to Sunday, school,
and stay through church, and then have to spell out a chapter in the
Bible in the afternoon. I'm goin' to run away, and be a soldier, or go
out on the plains and kill Injuns. I'm layin' away things now for it.
See here?"
And he conducted Shorty with much mystery to a place behind the haymow,
where he had secreted an old single-barreled pistol and a falseface.
"You little brat," said Shorty, "git all them fool notions out o' your
head. This 's the best home you'll ever see, and you stay here just as
long as the Lord'll let you. You're playin' in high luck to be here.
Don't you ever leave, on no account."
"Then why're you goin' to run away," asked the boy wonderingly.
"That's my business. Something you can't understand, nohow. Now, I want
you to slip around there and git my overcoat and things and bring 'em
out to me, without nobody seein' you. Do it at once."
'sammy,' Said Shorty, 'i'm Goin' Away Right Off, and I Don't Want the
People to Know Nothin' of It.' 113
While Sammy was gone for the things Shorty laboriously wrote out a note
to Si upon a sheet of brown paper. It read:
"Deer Si; ive jest red in the papers that the army's goin' 2 move rite
off. i no tha need me bad in the kumpany, for tha are short on Korprils,
& tha can't do nothin' without Korprils. ive jest time 2 ketch the nekst
traine, & ime goin' thare ez fast ez steme kin carry me. Good-by & luv 2
all the folks.
"Yours, Shorty."
"There, Sammy," he said, as he folded it up and gave it to the boy;
"keep that quiet until about bed time, when they begin to inquire about
me. By that time I'll 've ketched the train goin' east, and be skippin'
out for the army. By the way, Sammy, can't you sneak into Miss Maria's
room, and steal a piece o' ribbon, or something that belongs to her?"
"I've got a big piece o' that new red Sunday dress o' her's," said
Sammy, going to his storehouse and producing it. "I cribbed it once, to
make me a flag or something, when I'd be out fightin' the Injuns. Will
that do you?"
"Bully," said Shorty, with the first joyous emotion since the reception
of the letter. "It's jest the thing. Here's a half-dollar for you. Now,
Sammy, kin you write?"
"They're makin' me learn, and that's one reason why I want to run away,"
with a doleful remembrance of his own grievances. "What's the use of it,
I'd like to know? It cramps my fingers and makes my head ache. Simon
Kenton couldn't write his own name, but he killed more Injuns than ary
other man in the country. I guess you'd want to run away, too, if they
made you learn to write."
"You little brat," said Shorty reprovingly; "you don't know what's good
for you. You do as they say, and learn to write as quick as you kin."
Then, in a softer tone: "Now, Sammy, I want you to promise to write me a
long letter—two sheets o' foolscap."
"Why, I never writ so much in all my life," protested the boy. "It'd
take me a year."
"Well, you've got to, now, and it mustn't take you two weeks. Here's a
dollar for you, and when I git the letter I'll send you home a real
rebel gun. Now, you're to cross your heart and promise on your sacred
word and honor that you'll keep this secret from everybody, not to tell
a word to nobody. You must tell me all about what they say about me, and
partickerlerly what Miss Maria says. Tell me everything you kin about
Miss Maria, and who goes with her."
"What makes you like Maria better'n you do 'Mandy?" inquired the boy. "I
like 'Mandy lots the best. She's heap purtier, and lots more fun, and
don't boss me around like Maria does."
"That's all you know about it, you little skeezics. She don't boss you
around half as much as she ought to." Then gentler: "Now, Sammy, do jest
as I say, and I'll send you home a real rebel gun jest as soon as I get
your letter."
"A real gun, that'll be all my own, and will shoot and kick, and crack
loud?"
"Yes, a genuine rebel gun, that you kin shoot crows with and celebrate
Christmas, and kill a dog."
"Well, I'll write you a letter if it twists my fingers off," said the
boy joyously.
"And you hope to be struck dead if you tell a word to anybody?"
"Yes, indeedy," said the boy, crossing his heart earnestly. Shorty
folded up the piece of dress goods tenderly, placed it securely in the
breast-pocket of his blouse, and trudged over to the station, stopping
on the summit of the hill to take a last look at the house. It was a
long, hard walk for him, for he was yet far from strong, but he got
their before train time.
It was the through train to St. Louis that he boarded, and the only
vacant seat that he could find was one partially filled with the
belongings of a couple sitting facing it, and very close together. They
had hold of one another's hands, and quite clearly were dressed better
than they were accustomed to. The man was approaching middle age, and
wore a shiny silk hat, a suit of broadcloth, with a satin vest, and a
heavy silver watch chain. His face was rather strong and hard, and
showed exposure to rough weather. The woman was not so much younger, was
tall and angular, rather uncomfortably conscious of her good clothes,
and had a firm, settled look about her mouth and eyes, which only
partially disappeared in response to the man's persistent endearments.
Still, she seemed more annoyed than he did at the seating of another
party in front of them, whose eyes would be upon them. The man lifted
the things to make room for Shorty, who commented to himself:
"Should think they was bride and groom, if they wasn't so old."
There was a vague hint that he had seen the face somewhere, but he
dismissed it, then settled himself, and, busy with his own thoughts,
pressed his face against the window, and tried to recognize through the
darkness the objects by which they were rushing. They were all deeply
interesting to him, for they were part of Maria's home and surroundings.
After awhile the man appeared temporarily tired of billing and cooing,
and thought conversation with some one else would give variety to the
trip. He opened their lunch-basket, took out something for himself and
his companion to eat, nudged Shorty, and offered him a generous handful.
Shorty promptly accepted, for he had the perennial hunger of
convalescence, and his supper had been interrupted.
"Going back to the army?" inquired the man, with his mouth full of
chicken, and by way of opening up the conversation.
"Um—huh," said Shorty, nodding assent.
"Where do you belong?"
"200th Injianny Volunteer Infantry."
If Shorty had been noticing the woman he would have seen her start, but
would have attributed it to the lurching of the cars. She lost interest
in the chicken leg she was picking, and listened to the continuance of
the conversation.
"I mean, what army do you belong to?"
"Army o' the Cumberland, down at Chattanoogy."
"Indeed; I might say that I belong to that army myself. I'm going down
that way, too. You see, my Congressman helped me get a contract for
furnishing the Army o' the Cumberland with bridge timber, and I'm going
down to Looeyville, and mebbe further, to see about it. We've just come
from St. Louis, where I've bin deliverin' some timber in rafts."
"Where are you from?'
"Bad Ax, Wisconsin, a little ways from La Crosse."
It was Shorty's turn to start, and it flashed upon him just where he had
seen that squarish face. It was in an ambrotype that he carried in his
breastpocket. He almost choked on the merrythought of the chicken, but
recovered himself, and said quickly:
"I have heard o' the place. Lived there long?"
"Always, you might say. Father took me there as a child during the mine
excitement, growed up there, went into business, married, lost my wife,
and married again. We're now on what you might call our bridal tower. I
had to come down here on business, so I brung my wife along, and worked
it off on her as our bridal tower. Purty cute, don't you think?"
And he reached over and tried to squeeze his wife's hand, but she
repulsed it.
The bridegroom plied Shorty with questions as to the army for awhile
after they had finished eating, and then arose and remarked:
"I'm goin' into the smokin'-car for a smoke. Won't you come along with
me, soldier, and have a cigar?"
"No, thankee," answered Shorty. "I'd like to, awfully, but the doctor's
shut down on my smokin' till I git well."
As soon as he was well on his way the woman leaned forward and asked
Shorty in an earnest tone:
"Did you say that you belonged to the 200th Ind.?"
"Yes'm," said Shorty very meekly. "To Co. Q."
"The very same company," gasped the woman.
"Did you happen to know a Mr. Daniel Elliott in that company?"
"Very well, mum. Knowed him almost as well as if he was my own brother."
"What sort of a man was he?"
"Awful nice feller. I thought a heap of him. Thought more of him than
any other man in the company. A nicer man you never knowed. Didn't
drink, nor swear, nor play cards, nor chaw terbacker. Used to go to
church every Sunday. Chaplain thought a heap of him. Used to call him
his right bower—I mean his strong suit—I mean his two pair—ace high. No,
neither o' them's just the word the Chaplain used, but it was something
just as good, but more Bible-like."
"I'm so glad to hear it," murmured the woman.
"O, he was an ornament to the army," continued the unblushing Shorty,
who hadn't had a good opportunity to lie in all the weeks that the
Deacon had been with him, and wanted to exercise his old talent, to see
whether he had lost it. "And the handsomest man! There wasn't a finer-
looking man in the whole army. The Colonel used to get awfully jealous
o' him, because everybody that'd come into camp 'd mistake him for the
Colonel. He'd 'a' bin Colonel, too, if he'd only lived. But the poor
fellow broke his heart. He fell in love with a girl somewhere up
North—Pewter Hatchet, or some place like that. I never saw her, and
don't know nothin' about her, but I heard that the boys from her place
said that she was no match for him. She was only plain, ordinary-
lookin'."
"That wasn't true," said the woman, under her breath.
"All the same, Elliott was dead-stuck on her. Bimeby he heard some way
that some stay-at-home widower was settin' up to her, and she was
encouragin' him, and finally married him. When Elliott heard that he was
completely beside himself. He lost all appetite for everything but
whisky and the blood of widowers. Whenever he found a man who was a
widower he wanted to kill him. At Chickamauga, he'd pick out the men
that looked old enough to be widowers, and shoot at them, and no others.
In the last charge he got separated, and was by himself with a tall
rebel with a gray beard. 'I surrender,' said the rebel. 'Are you a
widower?' asked Elliott. 'I'm sorry to say that my wife's dead,' said
the rebel. 'Then you can't surrender. I'm goin' to kill you,' said
Elliott. But he'd bin throwed off his guard by too much talkin'. The
rebel got the drop on him, and killed him."
"It ain't true that his girl went back on him before she heard he was
killed," said the woman angrily, forgetting herself. "She only married
after the report of his death in the papers."
"Jerusha," said Shorty, pulling out the letters and picture, rising to
his feet, and assuming as well as he could in the rocking car the pose
and manner of the indignant lovers he had seen in melodramas, "I'm Dan
Elliott, and your own true love, whose heart you've broke. When I
learned of your faithlessness I sought death, but death went back on me.
I've come back from the grave to reproach you. You preferred the love of
a second-hand husband, with a silver watch-chain and a raft o' logs, to
that of an honest soldier who had no fortune but his patriotic heart and
his Springfield rifle. But I'll not be cruel to you. There are the
evidences of your faithlessness, that you was so anxious to git hold of.
Your secret's safe in this true heart. Take 'em and be happy with your
bridge-timber contractor. Be a lovin' wife to your warmed-over husband.
Be proud of his speculations on the needs o' his country. As for me,
I'll go agin to seek a soldier's grave, for I cannot forgit you."
As he handed her the letters and picture he was dismayed to notice that
the piece of Maria's dress was mixed in with them. He snatched it away,
shoved it back in his pocket, pulled his hat down over his eyes, and,
with a melodramatic air, rushed forward into the smoking-car, where he
seated himself and at once fell asleep.
He was awakened in the morning at Jeffersonville, by the provost-guard
shaking him and demanding his pass.
CHAPTER IX. SHORTY IN TROUBLE HAS AN ENCOUNTER WITH THE PROVOST-MARSHAL.
"I AINT got no pass," said Shorty, in response to the demand of the
Provost-Guard. "Bin home on sick-furlough. Goin' back to the front now.
Left my papers at home. Forgot 'em."
"Heard all about lost and missing papers before," said the Sergeant
drily. "Fall in there, under guard." And he motioned Shorty to join the
gang of stragglers and runaways which had already been gathered up.
"Look here. Sergeant," remonstrated Shorty, "I don't belong in that pack
o' shell-fever invalids, and I won't fall in with 'em. There's no yaller
or cotton in me. I'm straight goods, all wool, and indigodyed. I've bin
promoted Corpril in my company for good conduct at Chickamauga. I'm
goin' back to my regiment o' my own accord, before my time's up, and I
propose to go my own way. I won't go under guard."
"You'll have to, if you can't show a pass," said the Sergeant
decisively. "If you're a soldier you know what orders are. Our orders
are to arrest every man that can't show a pass, and bring him up to
Provost Headquarters. Fall in there without any more words."
"I tell you I'm not goin' back to the regiment under guard," said Shorty
resolutely. "I've no business to go back at all, now. My furlough ain't
up for two weeks more. I'm goin' back now of my own free will, and in my
own way. Go along with your old guard, and pick up them deadbeats and
sneaks, that don't want to go back at all. You'll have plenty o' work
with them, without pesterin' me."
"And I tell you you must go," said the Sergeant, irritably, and turning
away, as if to end the discussion. "Williams, you and Young bring him
along."
"I'll not go a step under guard, and you can't make me," answered Shorty
furiously, snatching up the heavy poker from the stove. "You lunkheaded,
feather-bed soldiers jest keep your distance, if you know what's good
for you. I didn't come back here from the front to be monkeyed with by a
passel o' fellers that wear white gloves and dresscoats, and eat soft
bread. Go off, and 'tend your own bizniss, and I'll 'tend to mine."
The Sergeant turned back and looked at him attentively.
"See here," he said, after a moment's pause.
"Don't you belong to the 200th Ind.?"
"You bet I do. Best regiment in the Army o' the Cumberland."
"You're the feller they call Shorty, of Co. Q?"
Shorty nodded assent.
"I thought I'd seen you somewhere, the moment I laid eyes on you," said
the Sergeant in a friendly tone. "But I couldn't place you. You've
changed a good deal. You're thinner'n a fishing-rod."
"Never had no meat to spare," acquiesced Shorty, "but I'm an Alderman
now to what I was six weeks ago. Got a welt on my head at Chickamaugy,
and then the camp fever at Chattanoogy, which run me down till I
could've crawled through a greased flute."
"Well, I'm Jim Elkins. Used to belong to Co. A," replied the Sergeant.
"I recollect your stealing the caboose door down there at Murfreesboro.
Say, that was great. How that conductor ripped and swore when he found
his door was gone. I got an ax from you. You never knew who took it, did
you? Well, it was me. I wanted the ax, but I wanted still more to show
you that there was somebody in the camp just as slick on the forage as
you were. But I got paid for it. The blamed old ax glanced one day,
while I was chopping, and whacked me on the knee."
"A thief always gits fetched up with," said Shorty, in a tone of
profound moralizing. "But since it had to go I'm glad one o' our own
boys got it. I snatched another and a better one that night from the
Ohio boys. I'm awful sorry you got hurt. Was it bad?"
"Yes. The doctors thought I'd lose my leg, and discharged me. But I got
well, and as soon as they'd take me I re-enlisted. Wish I was back in
the old regiment, though. Say, you'll have to go to Headquarters with
me, because that's orders, but you just walk alongside o' me. I want to
talk to you about the boys."
As they walked along, the Sergeant found an opportunity to say in low
tone, so that the rest could not hear:
"Old Billings, who used to be Lieutenant-Colonel, is Provost-Marshal.
He's Lieutenant-Colonel of our regiment. He'll be likely to give you a
great song and dance, especially if he finds out that you belonged to
the old regiment. But don't let it sink too deep on you. I'll stand by
you, if there's anything I can do."
"Much obliged," said Shorty, "but I'm all right, and I oughtn't to need
any standing by from anybody. That old fly-up-the-crick ought to be
ashamed to even speak to a man who's bin fightin' at the front, while he
was playin' off around home."
"He'll have plenty to say all the same," returned the Sergeant. "He's
got one o' these self-acting mouths, with a perpetual-motion attachment.
He don't do anything but talk, and mostly bad. Blame him, it's his fault
that we're kept here, instead of being sent to the front, as we ought to
be. Wish somebody'd shoot him."
The Provost-Marshal was found in his office, dealing out sentences like
a shoulder-strapped Rhadamanthes. It was a place that just suited
Billings's tastes. There he could bully to his heart's content, with no
chance for his victims getting back at him, and could make it very
uncomfortable for those who were disposed to sneer at his military
career. With a scowl on his brow, and a big chew of tobacco in his
mouth, he sat in his chair, and disposed of the cases brought before him
with abusive comments, and in the ways that he thought would give the
men the most pain and trouble. It was a manifestation of his power that
he gloated over.
"Take the position of soldiers, you slouching clodhoppers," he said,
with an assortment of oaths, as the squad entered the office. "One'd
think you a passel o' hawbucks half-drunk at a log-rollin', instead o'
soldiers in the presence o' your superior officer. Shut them gapin'
mouths, lift up them shock-heads, button up your blouses, put your hands
down to your sides, and don't no man speak to me without salootin'. And
mind what you say, or I'll give you a spell on bread and water, and send
you back in irons. I want you to understand that I'll have no
foolishness. You can't monkey with me as you can with some officers.
"Had your pocket picked, and your furlough as well as your money taken,"
he sneered to the first statement. "You expect me to believe that, you
sickly-faced yallerhammer. I'll just give you five days' hard labor
before sending you back, for lying to me. Go over there to the left, and
take your place in that police squad."
"No," he said to the second, "that sick mother racket won't work. Every
man we ketch now skulking home is goin' to see his sick and dying
mother. There wouldn't be no army if we allowed every man who has a sick
mother to go and visit her. None o' your back talk, or I'll put the
irons on you."
"No," to a third, "you can't go back to your boarding place for your
things, not even with a guard. I know you. You'd give the guard the slip
before you went 10 rods. Let your things go. Probably you stole 'em,
anyway."
Lieut.-Col. Billings's eye lighted on Shorty, with an expression of
having seen him somewhere.
"Where do you belong?" he asked crossly.
"Co. Q, 200th Injianny Volunteer Infantry," replied Shorty proudly.
"Yes. I remember you now," said the Provost-Marshal savagely. "You're
one o' them infernal nigger-thieves that brung disgrace on the regiment.
You're one o' them that made it so notorious that decent men who had a
respect for other people's property was glad to get out of it."
"You're a liar," said Shorty hotly. "You didn't git out o' the regiment
because it stole niggers. That's only a pretend. The rear is full o'
fellers like you who pretend to be sore on the nigger question, as an
excuse for not going to the front. You sneaked out o' every fight the
regiment went into. You got out of the regiment because it was too fond
of doin' its duty."
"Shut up, you scoundrel! Buck-and-gag him, men," roared Billings, rising
and shaking his fist at him.
"Stop that! You musn't talk that way," said the Sergeant, going over to
Shorty, and shaking him roughly, while he whispered, "Don't make a
blamed fool o' yourself. Keep quiet."
"I won't stop," said Shorty angrily; "I won't let no man talk that way
about the 200th Ind., no matter if he wears as many leaves on his
shoulders as there is on a beech tree. I'd tell the Major-General that
he lied if he slandered the regiment, if I died for it the next minute."
"I order you to take him out and buck-and-gag him," shouted the Provost-
Marshal.
The Sergeant caught Shorty by the shoulder, and pushed him out of the
room, with much apparent roughness, but really using no more force than
would make a show, while muttering his adjurations to cool down.
"I s'pose I've got to obey orders, and buck-and-gag you," said the
Sergeant ruefully, as they were alone together in the room. "It goes
against my grain, like the toothache. I'd rather you'd buck-and-gag me.
But you are to blame for it yourself. You ought to have more sense than
lay it into a Lieutenant-Colonel and Provost-Marshal that way. But you
did give it to him fine, the old blow-hard and whisky-sucker. He's no
more fit for shoulderstraps than a hog is for a paper-collar. Haven't
heard anything for a long time that tickled me so, even while I was mad
enough to pound you for having no more sense. I've bin aching to talk
that way to him myself."
"Go ahead and obey your orders," said Shorty. "Don't mind me. I'm
willin' to take it. I've had my say, which was worth a whole week o'
buckin'. It 'll be something to tell the boys when I git back, that I
saw old Billings swellin' around, and told him right before his own men
just what we think of him. Lord, how it 'll tickle 'em. I'll forgit all
about the buckin', but they won't forgit that."
"Blamed if I'll do it," said the Sergeant. "He can take off my stripes,
and be blest to him. You said just what I think, and what we all think,
and I ought to stand by you. I've a notion to go right back in the room
and tell him I won't do it, and pull off my stripes and hand 'em to him,
and tell him to take 'em and go to Halifax."
"Now, don't be a fool, Jim," remonstrated Shorty. "You won't help me,
and you'll git yourself into trouble. Somebody's got to do it, and I'd
rather it'd be you than somebody else. Go ahead and obey your orders.
Git your rope and your stick and your bayonet."
"They're all here," said the Sergeant, producing them, with a regretful
air. "We've plenty of use for them as long as old Billings is on deck.
Say," said he, stopping, as a brighter look came into his face, "I've
got an idea."
"Hold on to it till you kin mark its ears, so's you'll know it again for
your property," said Shorty sarcastically. "Good idees are skeerce and
valuable."
"Jeff Wilson, the General's Chief Clerk, who belongs to my company,"
said the Sergeant, "told me yesterday that they wanted another Orderly,
and to pick out one for him. I'll send a note for him to detail you
right off."
He hastily scratched off the following note on a piece of wrapping
paper, folded it up, and sent secretly one of his boys on a run with it:
"Dear Jeff: Found you a first-class Orderly. It's Shorty, of my old
regiment. He's in Billings's clutches, and in trouble. Send down a
detail at once for Shorty Elliott, Co. Q, 200th Ind. Rush. Yours, Jim."
"Here, Sergeant," called out the Provost-Marshal from the other room,
"what are you fooling around in there so long for?"
"Somebody's been monkeying with my things," called back the Sergeant.
"If they don't let 'em alone I'll scalp somebody."
"Well, get through, and come out here, for there's some more work for
you. Make a good job with that scoundrel. I'll be in presently and see
it."
Shorty squatted down, and the Sergeant made as easy going an imitation
as he could of the punishment.
The messenger encountered the young General near by, limping along on a
conscientious morning inspection of things about his post. He had been
but recently assigned to the position, to employ him while he was
getting well of his wound received at Chickamauga, and was making a
characteristic effort to know all about his command. He had sent his
staff on various errands, but had his Chief Clerk with him to make
notes.
"What's that?" he inquired, as the messenger handed the latter the note.
"Just a note from the Sergeant of the Guard about an Orderly," answered
the clerk.
"Let me see it," said the General, who had an inveterate disposition for
looking into the smallest details. "What's this? One of the 200th Ind.?
Why, that was in my brigade. The 200th Ind. was cut all to pieces, but
it stuck to that Snodgrass Hill tighter than a real-estate mortgage. One
of the boys in trouble? We'll just go over to the Provost-Marshal's and
see about him. It may be that I know him."
The sharp call of the Sergeant on duty outside to "Turn out the Guard
for the General," the clatter of muskets, as he was obeyed, the sudden
stiffening up of the men lounging about the entrance into the position
of the soldier, and their respectful salutes as the General limped in,
conveyed to Lieut.-Col. Billings intelligence as to his visitor, and his
whole demeanor changed to one of obsequious welcome.
"Very unexpected, General, but very kind in you to visit me," he said,
bowing, and washing his hands with invisible soap.
"No kindness at all. Colonel," said the General with official curtness.
"Merely my duty, to personally acquaint myself with all portions of my
command. I should have visited you before. By the way, I understand you
have picked up here a man belonging to my brigade—to the 200th Ind.
Where is he?"
Billings's face clouded.
"Yes, we have a man who claimed to belong to that regiment—a straggler,
who hadn't any papers to show. I had no idea whether he was telling the
truth. He was outrageously sassy, and I had to give him a lesson to keep
a civil tongue in his head. Take a seat. I'll send for him."
"No; I'll go and see him," said the General. "Where is he?"
With a foreboding that the scene was going to be made unpleasant for
him, Billings led the General into the guard-room.
Why, It's Shorty! Said the General, Recognizing Him At Once 129
"Why, it's Shorty," said the General, recognizing him at once, "who ran
back at Stone River, in a heavy fire, and helped me from under my
horse."
Shorty winked and nodded affirmatively.
"What was the matter, Colonel?" inquired the General.
"Well," said Billings, defensively, "the feller is a straggler, without
papers to show where he belonged, and he was very sassy to me—called me
a liar, and said other mean things, right before my men, and I had to
order him bucked-and-gagged to shut him up."
"Strange," said General; "I always found him very respectful and
obedient. I thought I hadn't a better soldier in my brigade."
Shorty winked appreciatively at Serg't Elkins.
"Take out the gag, let him up, and let me hear what he has to say," said
the General.
Shorty was undone and helped to his feet, when he respectfully saluted.
His weakness was so apparent that the General ordered him to sit down,
and then asked him questions which brought out his story. "You were
promoted Corporal, if I recollect," said he, "for gallantry in capturing
one of the rebel flags taken by my brigade."
"Yes, sir," answered Shorty.
Billings was feeling very uncomfortable.
"He called me a liar, and a stay-at-home sneak, and other insultin'
things," protested he.
"General, he slandered the 200 Ind., which I won't allow no man to do,
no matter what he has on his shoulders. I told him that he'd bin fired
out o' the regiment, and was a-bummin' in the rear, and hadn't no
business abusin' men who was doin' and respectful."
"Hum—very insubordinate, very unsoldierly," said the General. "Very
unlike you. Corporal. I'm surprised at you. You were always very
obedient and respectful."
"Always to real officers," said Shorty; "but—"
"Silence," said the General, sternly. "Don't aggravate the offense. You
were properly punished."
"I ain't kickin' about it," said Shorty stubbornly. "I've got the worth
of it."
"I think," continued the General, after having properly vindicated
discipline, "that that blow you received on your head may affect your
brain at times, and make you unduly irritable. I think I'll have the
Surgeon examine you. Put him in an ambulance, Wilson, and take him over
to the Surgeon. Then bring him to Headquarters with the report."
Turning to the Lieutenant-Colonel the General said:
"I had another object in visiting you this morning. Colonel. I've got
some good news for you. I've found your officers and men very weary of
their long tour of provost duty here, and anxious to go to the front. Of
course, I know that you feel the same way."
Billings tried to look as if he did, but the attempt was not a success.
"I have represented to Headquarters, therefore," continued the General,
"that it would be to the advantage of the service to have this fine full
regiment sent to the front, and its place taken by one that has been run
down by hard service, and so get a chance for it to rest and recruit.
The General has accepted my views, and orders me to have you get ready
to move at once."
"I have tried to do my dooty here, and I thought," murmured Billings,
"that it was to the advantage of the Government to have as Provost-
Marshal a man who knowed all these fellers and their tricks. It'd take a
new man a long time to learn 'em."
"I appreciate that," said the General. "But it's not just to you or your
men to make you do so much of this work. I'm expecting every minute
notice of a regiment being sent to relieve yours, and therefore you will
be ready to start as soon as it arrives. Good morning, sir."
The only relief that Billings could find to his feelings after the
General's departure was to kick one of the men's dog out of his office
with a great deal of vindictiveness.
CHAPTER X. SHORTY AS ORDERLY HAS A TOUR OF DUTY AT THE GENERAL'S
HEADQUARTERS.
"WELL," said the General, after he had listened to Shorty's story, and
questioned him a little, "you are all right now. I'll take care of you.
The Surgeon says that you are not fit to go back to the front, and will
not be for some time. They have got more sick and convalescents down
there now than they can take good care of. The army's gone into Winter
quarters, and will probably stay there until Spring opens, so that they
don't need either of us. I'll detail you as Orderly at these
Headquarters, and you can go back with me when I do."
"I s'pose that's all right and satisfactory," said Shorty, saluting.
"It's got to be, anyway. In the army a man with a star on his shoulder's
got the last say, and kin move the previous question whenever he wants
to. I never had no hankerin' for a job around Headquarters, and now that
I'm a Korpril I ought to be with my company. But they need you worse'n
they do me, and I've noticed that you was always as near the front as
anybody, so I don't think I'll lose no chances by stayin' with you."
"I promise you that we shall both go as soon as there's any prospect of
something worth going for," said the General, smiling. "Report there to
Wilson. He will instruct you as to your duties."
Wilson's first instructions were as to Shorty's personal appearance. He
must get a clean shave and a hair-cut, a necktie, box of paper collars,
a pair of white gloves, have blouse neatly brushed and buttoned to his
throat and his shoes polished.
"Dress parade every day?" asked Shorty, despairingly.
"Just the same as dress parade every day," answered the Chief Clerk.
"Don't want any scarecrows around these Headquarters. We're on dress
parade all the time before the people and other soldiers, and must show
them how soldiers ought to appear. You'll find a barber-shop and a
bootblack around the corner. Make for them at once, and get yourself in
shape to represent Headquarters properly."
"Don't know but I'd ruther go to the front and dig rifle-pits than to
wear paper collars and white gloves every day in the week," soliloquized
Shorty, as he walked out on the street. "Don't mind 'em on Sunday, when
you kin take 'em off agin when the company's dismissed from parade; but
to put 'em on in the mornin' when you git up, and wear 'em till you go
to bed at night—O, Jehosephat! Don't think I've got the constitution to
stand that sort o' thing. But it's orders, and I'll do it, even if it
gives me softenin' o' the brain. Here, you—(beckoning to a bootblack),
put a 250-pounder Monitor coat o' polish on them Tennessee River
gunboats. Fall in promptly, now."
The little darky gave an estimating glance at the capacious cowhides,
which had not had a touch of the brush since being drawn from the
Quarter master, and then yelled to a companion on the other side of the
street:
"Hey, Taters, come lend me a spit. I'se got a' army contrack."
"Vhat golor off a gravat do you vant?" asked the Jewish vender of
haberdashery, who was rapidly amassing a fortune from the soldiers.
"Dere's plack, red, kreen, plue—all lofely golors, unt de vinest kint
off silk. Yoost de same as Cheneral Krant vears. He puys lods off me.
Von't puy off nopody else vhen he gan ket to me. Now, dere's vun dat'll
yoost suit your light gomplexion. You gan vear dat on St. Batrick's
day."
And he picked out one of bright green that would have made Shorty's
throat seem in wild revolt against his hair.
"Well, I don't know," said Shorty meditatively, pulling over the lot.
Then a thought struck him. Taking out the bit of Maria's dress, he said:
"Give me something as near as possible the color of that."
"Veil, I've kot rid off datt off-golored negdie, dat I fought I nefer
vould sell," meditated the Jew, as Shorty left. "I'm ahet yoost a
tollar-unt-a-haluf on aggount off dat vild Irishman's kirl. Veil, de
kirls ket some fellers into sgrapes, unt helps udders oud."
With this philosophical observation the Jew resumed his pleasant work of
marking up his prices to better accord with his enlarged views as to the
profits he could get off the soldiers.
When Shorty returned to Headquarters, neatly shaven and brushed, and
took the position of a soldier before the Chief Clerk, that functionary
remarked approvingly:
"Very good, very good, indeed. You'll be an ornament to Headquarters."
And the General, entering the room at that time, added:
"Yes, you are as fine a looking soldier as one would wish to see, and an
examaple to others. But you have not your Corporal's chevrons on. Allow
me to present you with a pair. It gives me pleasure, for you have well
earned them."
Stepping back into his office he returned with the chevrons in his hand.
"There, find a tailor outside somewhere to sew them on. You are now a
non-commissioned officer on my staff, and I expect you to do all you can
to maintain its character and dignity."
Shorty's face flushed with pride as he saluted, and thought, without
saying:
"You jest bet I will. Any loafer that don't pay proper respect to this
here staff'll git his blamed neck broke."
"Here," said the Chief Clerk, handing Shorty an official envelope, when
the latter returned from having his chevrons sewed on. "Take this down
to Col. Billings. Mind you do it in proper style. Don't get to sassing
old Billings. Stick the envelope in your belt, walk into the office,
take the position of a soldier, salute, and hand him the envelope,
saying, 'With the compliments of the General,' salute again, about-face,
and walk out."
"I'll want to punch his rotten old head off the minute I set eyes on
him," remarked Shorty, sotto voce; "but the character and dignity of the
staff must be maintained."
Lieut.-Col. Billings started, and his face flushed, when he saw Shorty
stalk in, severely erect and soldierly. Billings was too little of a
soldier to comprehend the situation. His first thought was that Shorty,
having been taken under the General's wing, had come back to triumph
over him, and he prepared himself with a volley of abuse to meet that of
his visitor. But Shorty, with stern eyes straight to the front, marched
up to him, saluted in one-two-three time, drew the envelope from his
belt, and thrusting it at him as he would his gun to the inspecting
officer on parade, announced in curtly official tones, "With General's
compliments, sir," saluted again, about-faced as if touched with a
spring, and marched stiffly toward the door.
Billings hurriedly glanced at the papers, and saw that instead of some
unpleasant order from the General, which he had feared, they were merely
some routine matters. His bullying instinct at once reasserted itself:
"Puttin' on a lot o' scollops, since, just because you're detailed at
Headquarters," he called out after Shorty. "More style than a blue-
ribbon horse at a county fair, just because the General took a little
notice of you. But you'll not last long. I know you."
"Sir," said Shorty, facing about and stiffly saluting, "if you've got
any message for the General, I'll deliver it. If you hain't, keep your
head shet."
"O, go on; go on, now, you two-for-a-cent Corporal. Don't you give me
any more o' your slack, or I'll report you for your impudence, and have
them stripes jerked offen you."
'what Do You Think of That?' Said the Gambler. 141
Hot words sprang to Shorty's lips, but he remembered the General's
injunction about the character and dignity of the staff, and restrained
himself to merely saying:
"Col. Billings, some day I won't belong to the staff, and you won't have
no shoulder-straps. Then I'll invite you to a little discussion, without
no moderator in the chair."
"Go on, now. Don't you dare threaten me," shouted Billings.
"How'd you get along with Billings?" inquired the Chief Clerk, when
Shorty returned.
"About as well as the monkey and the parrot did," answered Shorty, and
he described the interview, ending with:
"I never saw a man who was achin' for a good lickin' like that old
bluffer. And he'll git it jest as soon as he's out o' the service, if I
have to walk a hundred miles to give it to him."
"I'm afraid you'll have to wait a good while," answered Wilson. "He'll
stay in the service as long as he can keep a good soft berth like this.
He's now bombarding everybody that's got any influence with telegrams to
use it to keep him here in the public interest. He claims that on
account of his familiarity with things here he is much more valuable to
the Government here than he would be in the field."
"No doubt o' that," said Shorty. "He ain't worth a groan in the infernal
regions at the front. He only takes the place and eats the rations of
some man that might be of value."
"See here," said Wilson, pointing to a pile of letters and telegrams on
his desk. "These are protests against Billings being superseded and sent
away. More are coming in all the time. They are worrying the General
like everything, for he wants to do the right thing. But I know that
they all come from a ring of fellows around here who sell whisky and
slop-shop goods to the soldiers, and skin them alive, and are protected
by Billings. They're whacking up with him, and they want him to stay.
I'm sure of it, but I haven't any proof, and there's no use saying
anything to the General unless I've got the proof to back it."
"Wonder if I couldn't help git the proof," suggested Shorty, with his
sleuth instincts reviving.
"Just the man," said the Chief Clerk eagerly, "if you go about it right.
You're a stranger here, and scarcely anybody knows that you belong to
Headquarters. Get yourself back in the shape you were this morning, and
go out and try your luck. It'll just be bully if we can down this old
blowhard."
Shorty took off his belt and white gloves, unbuttoned his blouse, and
lounged down the street to the quarter where the soldiers most
congregated to be fleeced by the harpies gathered there as the best
place to catch men going to or returning from the front. Shorty soon
recognized running evil-looking shops, various kinds of games and
drinking dens several men who had infested the camps about Nashville and
Murfreesboro until the Provost-Marshal had driven them away.
"Billings has gathered all his old friends about him," said he to
himself. "I guess I'll find somebody here that I kin use."
"Hello, Injianny; what are you doin' here?" inquired a man in civilian
clothes, but unmistakably a gambler.
Shorty remembered him at once as the man with whom he had had the
adventure with the loaded dice at Murfreesboro. With the fraternity of
the class, neither remembered that little misadventure against the
other. They had matched their wits for a wrestle, and when the grapple
was over it was over.
Shorty therefore replied pleasantly:
"O, jest loafin' back here, gittin' well o' a crack on the head and the
camp fever."
"Into anything to put in the time?"
"Naah," said Shorty weariedly. "Nearly dead for something. Awful stoopid
layin' around up there among them hayseeds, doin' nothin'. Jest run down
to Jeffersonville to see if I couldn't strike something that'd some life
in it."
"Well, I kin let you into a good thing. I've bin runnin' that shebang
over there, with another man, and doin' well, but he let his temper git
away with him, and shpped a knife into a sucker, and they've got him in
jail, where he'll stay awhile. I must have another partner. Got any
money?"
"A hundred or so," answered Shorty.
"Well, that's enough. I don't want money so much as the right kind of a
man. Put up your stuff, and I'll let you in cahoots with me, and we'll
make a bar'l o' money out o' these new troops that'll begin coming down
this week."
"I like the idee. But how do you know you kin run your game. This
Provost-Marshall—"
"O, the Provost's all right. He's an old friend o' mine. I have him dead
to rights. Only whack up fair with him, and you're all right. Only
pinches them that want to hog on him and won't share. I've bin runnin'
right along here for weeks, and 've had no trouble. I give up my little
divvy whenever he asks for it."
"If I was only certain o' that," said Shorty meditatively, "I'd—"
"Certain? Come right over here to that ranch, and have a drink, and I'll
show you, so's you can't be mistaken. I tell you, I'm solid as a rock
with him."
When seated at a quiet table, with their glasses in front of them, the
gambler pulled some papers from his breast pocket, and selecting one
shoved it at Shorty with the inquiry: "There, what do you think o'
that?"
Shorty read over laboriously:
"Deer Bat: Send me 50 please. I set behind two small pair last night,
while the other feller had a full, & Ime strapt this morning. Yores,
"Billings."
"That seems convincing," said Shorty.
"Then look at this," said the gambler, producing another paper. It read:
"Deer Bat: Got yore $100 all right, but doant send by that man again.
He's shaky, and talks too much. Bring it yourself, or put it in an
envelope directed to me, & drop it in my box. Yores,
"Billings."
"That's enough," said Shorty, with his mind in a tumult, as to how he
was to get these papers into his possession. "I'll go in with you, if
you'll take me. Here's my fist."
He reached out and shook hands with Bat Meacham over the bargain, and
called to the waiter, "Here, fill 'em up agin."
Shorty pulled some papers out of his pocket to search for his money, and
fumbled them over. There were two pieces among them resembling the
scraps on which Billings had written his notes. They contained some army
doggerel which the poet of Co. Q had written and Shorty was carrying
about as literary treasures.
The waiter wiped off the table as he replaced the glasses, and Shorty
lifted up the gambler's papers to permit him to do so. He laid down his
own papers instead, and with them a $10 bill.
"There," he said; "I find that's all the money I have with me, but it's
enough to bind the bargain. I left a couple hundred with the clerk at
the tavern. I'll go right up and git it, and we'll settle the thing
right here."
"Very good," replied Bat Meacham; "git back as quick as you kin. You'll
find me either here or hangin' around near. Let's fix the thing up and
git ready. I think a new regiment'll be down here tomorrow, and all the
men'll have their first installment o' bounty and a month's pay."
Shorty hurried back to Headquarters and laid his precious papers before
the Chief Clerk, who could not contain his exultation.
"Won't there be a tornado when the General sees these in the morning,"
he exclaimed. "He's gone out to camp, now, or I'd take them right to
him. But he shall have them first thing in the morning."
The next morning Shorty waited with eager impatience while the General
was closeted with his Chief Clerk. Presently the General stepped to the
door and said sternly:
"Corporal."
"Yes, sir," said Shorty, springing to his feet and saluting.
"Go down at once to the Provost-Marshal's office and tell Col. Billings
to come to Headquarters at once. To come at once, without a moment's
delay."
"Yes, sir," said Shorty saluting, with a furtive wink at the Chief
Clerk, which said as plainly as words, "No presenting compliments this
time."
He found Billings, all unconscious of the impending storm, dealing out
wrath on those who were hauled before him.
"Col. Billings," said Shorty, standing stiff as a ramrod and curtly
saluting, "the General wants you to come to Headquarters at once."
"Very well," replied Billings; "report to the General that I'll come as
soon as I dispose of this business."
"That'll not do," said Shorty with stern imperiousness. "The General
orders (with a gloating emphasis on 'orders') you to drop everything
else, and come instantly. You're to go right back with me."
Shorty enjoyed the manifest consternation in Billings's face as he heard
this summons. The men of the office pricked up their ears, and looked
meaningly at one another. Shorty saw it all, and stood as straight and
stern as if about to lead Billings to execution.
Billings, with scowling face, picked up his hat, buttoned his coat, and
walked out.
"Do you know what the General wants with me. Shorty?" he asked in a
conciliatory way, when they were alone together on the sidewalk.
"My name's Corporal Elliott. You will address me as such," answered
Shorty.
"Go to the devil," said Billings.
Billings tried to assume a cheerfully-genial air as he entered the
General's office, but the grin faded at the sight of the General's stern
countenance.
"Col. Billings," said the General, handing him the two pieces of paper,
"do you recognize these?"
"Can't say that I do," answered Billings, pretending to examine them
while he could recover his wits sufficiently for a fine of defense.
"Don't attempt to lie to me," said the General wrathfully, "or I'll
forget myself sufficiently to tear the straps from your disgraced
shoulders. I have compared these with other specimens of your
handwriting, until I have no doubt. I have sent for you not to hear your
defense, or to listen to any words from you. I want you to merely sit
down there and sign this resignation, and then get out of my office as
quickly as you can. I don't want to breathe the same air with you. I
ought to courtmartial you, and set you to hard work on the
fortifications, but I hate the scandal. I have already telegraphed to
Army Headquarters to accept your resignation by wire, and I shall send
it by telegraph.
"I cannot get you out of the army too quickly. Sign this, and leave my
office, and take off your person every sign of your connection with the
army. I shall give orders that if you appear on the street with so much
as a military button on, it shall be torn off you."
As the crushed Lieutenant-Colonel was leaving the office, Shorty lounged
up, and said:
"See here. Mister Billings—you're Mister Billings now, and a mighty
ornery Mister, too, I'm going to lay for you, and settle several little
p'ints with you. You've bin breedin' a busted head, and I'm detailed to
give it to you. Git out, you hound."
CHAPTER XI. SHORTY RUNS HEADQUARTERS GETS ENTIRELY TOO BIG FOR HIS
PLACE.
THE disturbance in the Deacon's family when Shorty's note was delivered
by little Sammy Woggles quite came up to that romance-loving youth's
fond anticipations. If he could only hope that his own disappearance
would create a fraction of the sensation he would have run away the next
day. It would be such a glorious retribution on those who subjected him
to the daily tyranny of rising early in the morning, washing his face,
combing his hair, and going to school. For the first time in his life
the boy found himself the center of interest in the family. He knew
something that all the rest were intensely eager to know, and they plied
him with questions until his young brain whirled. He told them all that
he knew, except that which Shorty had enjoined upon him not to tell, and
repeated his story without variation when separately examined by
different members of the family. All his leisure for the next few days
was put in laboriously constructing, on large sheets of foolscap, the
following letter, in which the thumb-marks and blots were more
conspicuous than the "pot-hook" letters:
dEER shoRty:
doNt 4git thAt REblE guN u promist mE.
thAir wAs An oRful time wheN i giv um yorE lEttEr.
missis klEgg shE cride.
mAriAr shE sEd did u EvEr No Ennything so Ridiklus.
si hE sed thAt shorty kood be morE Kinds ov fool in A minnit thAn Ary
uthEr boy hE Ever node, Not bArrin Tompsons colt.
thE deAcon hE wAntid 2 go 2 the tranE & stop u. When hE found hE
kooddEnt do that, hE wAntid 2 tElEgrAf 2 Arrest u & bring u bAk.
But si hE sEd bEttEr let u run till u got tirEd. Ude fEtch up sum whAir
soon. Then thEy wood sHp a bridlE ovEr yore hEAd & brink u bAk.
i hAint told mAriA nothin but u hAd bEtEr sEnd thAt gun rite off.
ile look 4 it EvEry dAy til i git it.
mi pen iz bAd, mi ink iz pAle, send thAt gun & NEVEr f ALE.
YorEs, SAM.
As soon as he saw that he was likely to remain at Headquarters for some
time. Shorty became anxious about that letter from Sammy, and after much
scheming and planning, he at last bethought himself of the expedient of
having the Chief Clerk write an official letter to Sam Elkins, the
postmaster and operator at Bean Blossom Creek Station, directing him to
forward to Headquarters any communications addressed to Corp'l Elliott,
200th Ind. Vols., and keep this matter a military secret.
In spite of his prepossessions against it, Shorty took naturally to
Headquarters duty, as he did to everything else in the army. He even
took a pride in his personal appearance, and appeared every morning as
spick and span as the barber-shop around the corner could make him. This
was because the General saw and approved it, and—because of the
influence Maria had projected into his life. The Deacon's well-ordered
home had been a revelation to him of another world, of which he wanted
to be a part. The gentle quiet and the constant consideration for others
that reigned there smoothed off his rough corners and checked the
rasping of his ready tongue.
"I'm goin' to try to be half-white," he mentally resolved; "at least, as
long's I'm north o' the Ohio River. When I'm back agin at the front, I
kin take a rest from being respectable."
He was alert, prompt, and observant, and before he was himself aware of
it began running things about the ante-rooms to Headquarters. More and
more the General and Chief Clerk kept putting the entire disposal of
certain matters in his hands, and it was not surprising that he acted at
times as if he were the Headquarters himself, and the General and others
merely attaches. Shorty always had that way about him.
"No, you can't see the General today," he would say to a man as to whom
he had heard the General or the Chief Clerk hint was a bore, and wasted
their time. "The General's very busy. The President's layin' down on him
for his advice about a campaign to take Richmond by a new way, and the
General's got to think at the rate of a mile a minute in order to git it
off by telegraph."
Don't You Know Better Than to Come To Headquarters Like That? 156
"Here," to a couple of soldiers who came up to get their furloughs
extended, "don't you know better than to come to Headquarters looking as
if your clothes had been blowed on to you? How long've you bin in the
army? Hain't you learned yit that you must come to Headquarters in full
dress? Go back and git your shoes blacked, put on collars, button up
your coats, and come up here lookin' like soldiers, not teamsters on the
Tullyhomy mud march."
"No," very decisively, to a big-waisted, dark-bearded man; "you can't
git no permit here to open no shebang in camp or anywheres near. Too
many like you out there now. We're goin' to root 'em all out soon.
They're all sellin' whisky on the sly, and every last one of 'em orter
be in jail."
"Certainly, madam," tenderly to a poor woman who had come to see if she
could learn something of her son, last heard from as sick in hospital at
Chattanooga. "Sit down. Take that chair—no, that one; it's more
comfortable. Give me your son's name and regiment. I'll see if we kin
find out anything about him. No use seein' the General. I'll do jest as
well, and 'll tend to it quicker."
"No," to a raw Captain, who strolled in, smoking a cheap cheroot. "The
General's not in to an officer who comes in here like as if Headquarters
was a ward caucus. He'll be in to you when you put on your sword and
button up your coat."
It amused and pleased the General to see Shorty take into his hands the
administration of military etiquette; but one day, when he was
accompanying the General on a tour of inspection, and walking stiffly at
the regulation distance behind, a soldier drunk enough to be ugly
lurched past, muttering some sneers about "big shoulder-straps."
Shorty instantly snatched him by the collar and straightened him up.
"Take the position of a soldier," he commanded.
The astonished man tried to obey.
"Throw your chest out," commanded Shorty, punching him in the ribs.
"Little fingers down to the seams of your pants," with a cuff at his
ears. "Put your heels together, and turn out your toes," kicking him on
the shin. "Hold up your head," jabbing him under the chin. "'Now
respectfully salute."
The cowed man clumsily obeyed.
"Now, take that to learn you how to behave after this in the presence of
a General officer," concluded Shorty, giving him a blow in the face that
sent him over.
The General had walked on, apparently without seeing what was going on.
But after they had passed out of the sight of the group which the affair
had gathered, he turned and said to Shorty:
"Corporal, discipline must be enforced in the army, but don't you think
you were a little too summary and condign with that man?"
"Hardly know what you mean by summary and condign. General, But if you
mean warm by summary, I'll say that he didn't git it half hot enough. If
I'd had my strength back I'd a' condigned his head off. But he got his
lesson jest when he needed it, and he'll be condigned sure to behave
decently hereafter."
Just then ex-Lieut.-Col. Billings came by. He was dressed in citizen's
clothes, and he glared at Shorty and the General, but there was
something in the latter's face and carriage which dominated him in spite
of himself, his camp associations asserted themselves, and instinctively
his hand went to his hat in a salute.
This was enough excuse for Shorty. He fell back until the General was
around the corner, out of sight, and then went up to Billings.
"Mister Billings," said he, sternly, "what was the General's orders
about wearin' anything military?"
"Outrageously tyrannical and despotic," answered Billings hotly. "But
jest what you might expect from these Abolition satraps, who're
throttlin' our liberties. A white man's no longer got any rights in this
country that these military upstarts is bound to respect. But I'm
obeyin' the order till I kin git an appeal from it."
"You're a liar. You're not," said Shorty, savagely.
"Why, what in the world have I got on that's military?" asked Billings,
looking himself over.
"You're wearin' a military saloot, which you have no business to. You've
got no right to show that you ever was in the army, or so much as seen a
regiment. You salooted the General jest now. Don't you ever let me see
you do it to him agin, or to no other officer. You musn't do nothin' but
take off your hat and bow. You hear me?"
Shorty was rubbing it in on his old tormentor in hopes to provoke him to
a fight. But the cowed man was too fearful of publicity just then. He
did not know what might be held in reserve to spring upon him. He
shambled away, muttering:
"O, go on! Grind down upon me. You'll be wantin' to send me to a Lincoln
bastile next. But a day will come when white men'll have their rights
agin."
Unfortunately for Shorty, however, he was having things too much his own
way. There were complaints that he was acting as if he owned
Headquarters.
Even the General noticed it, and would occasionally say in tones of
gentle remonstrance:
"See here, Corporal, you are carrying too big a load. Leave something
for the rest of us to do. We are getting bigger pay than you are, and
should have a chance to earn our money."
But Shorty would not take the hint. With his rapidly-returning strength
there had come what Si termed "one of his bull-headed spells," which
inevitably led to a cataclysm, unless it could be worked off
legitimately, as it usually was at the front by a toilsome march, a tour
of hard fatigue duty, or a battle or skirmish. But the routine of
Headquarters duties left him too much chance to get "fat and sassy."
One day the General and his staff had to go over to Louisville to attend
some great military function, and Shorty was left alone in charge of
Headquarters. There was nothing for him to do but hold a chair down, and
keep anybody from carrying off the Headquarters. This was a dangerous
condition, in his frame of mind. He began meditating how he could put in
the idle hours until the General should return in the evening. He
thought of hunting up Billngs, and giving him that promised thrashing,
but his recent experience did not promise hopefully that he could nag
that worthy into a fight that would be sufficiently interesting.
"I'd probably hit him a welt and he'd go off bawlin' like a calf," he
communed with himself. "No; Billings is too tame, now, until he finds
out whether we've got anything on him to send him to the penitentiary,
where he orter go."
Looking across the street he noticed Eph Click, whom he had known as a
camp-follower down in Tennessee, and was now running a "place" in the
unsavory part of the town. Shorty had the poorest opinion of Eph, but
the latter was a cunning rascal, who kept on the windy side of the law,
and had so far managed to escape the active notice of the Provost-
Marshal. He was now accompanied by a couple of men in brand-new
uniforms, so fresh that they still had the folds of the Quartermaster's
boxes.
"There goes that unhung rascal, Eph Glick," he said to himself, "that
orter be wearin' a striped suit, and breakin' stone in the penitentiary.
He's runnin' a reg'lar dead-fall down the street, there, and he's got a
couple o' green recruits in tow, steerin' them to where he kin rob 'em
of their pay and bounty. They won't have a cent left in two hours. I've
bin achin' to bust him up for a long time, but I've never bin able to
git the p'ints on him that'd satisfy the General or the Provo. I'll jest
go down and clean out his shebang and run him out o' town, and finish
the job up while the General and the Provo's over in Louisville. It'll
all be cleaned up before they git back, and they needn't know a word of
it. Eph's got no friends around here to complain. He's a yaller hound,
that nobody cares what's done to him. It'll be good riddance o' bad
rubbish."
He stalked out of the Headquarters, and beckoned imperiously to a squad
that he saw coming down the street under the command of a Sergeant.
Seeing him come out of Headquarters there was no question of his right
to order, and the Sergeant and squad followed.
They arrived in front of Eph's place about the same time he did.
"Take that man," said Shorty, pointing to Eph, "and put him aboard the
next train that goes out. Think yourself lucky, sir, that you git off so
easily. If you ever show your face back here agin you'll be put at hard
labor on the fortifications for the rest o' your natural life. Hustle
him off to the depot, a couple of you, and see that he goes off when the
train does. The rest o' you bring out all the liquor in that place, and
pour it into the gutter. Sergeant, see that nobody's allowed to drink or
carry any away."
Nothing more was needed for the crowd that had followed up the squad,
anticipating a raid. Bottles, demijohns and kegs were smashed, the
cigars and tobacco snatched up, and the place thoroughly wrecked in a
few minutes.
Shorty contemplated the ruin from across the street, and strolled back
to Headquarters, serenely conscious of having put in a part of the day
to good advantage.
That evening the Provost-Marshal came into Headquarters, and said:
"I'm sorry, General, that you felt that Click place so bad that you were
compelled to take personal action. I have known for some time that
something ought to be done, but I've been trying to collect evidence
that would hold Glick on a criminal charge, so that I could turn him
over to the civil authorities."
"I do not understand what you mean, Colonel," answered the General.
"I mean that Glick place that was raided by your orders today."
"I gave no orders to raid any place. I have left all those matters in
your hands, Colonel, with entire confidence that you would do the right
thing."
"Why, one of my Sergeants reported that a Corporal came from your
Headquarters, and directed the raid to be made."
"A Corporal from my Headquarters?" repeated the General, beginning to
understand. "That's another development of that irrepressible Shorty."
And he called:
"Corp'l Elliott."
"Yes, sir," responded Shorty, appearing at the door and saluting.
"Did you raid the establishment of a person named"
"Eph Glick," supplied the Provost-Marshal.
"Yes, Ephraim Glick. Did you direct it; and, if so, what authority had
you for doing so?"
"Yes, sir," said Shorty promptly. "I done it on my own motion. It was a
little matter that needed tending to, and I didn't think it worth while
to trouble either you or the Provo about it. The feller's bin dead-ripe
for killin' a long time. I hadn't nothin' else to do, so I thought I'd
jest git that job offen my hands, and not to have to think about it any
more."
"Corporal," said the General sternly, "I have not objected to your
running my office, for I probably need all the help in brains and
activity that I can get. But I must draw the line at your assuming the
duties of the Provost-Marshal in addition. He is quite capable of taking
care of his own office. You have too much talent for this narrow sphere.
Gen. Thomas needs you to help him run the army. Tell Wilson to make out
your transportation, so that you can start for your regiment tomorrow.
The Provost-Marshal and I will have to try to run this town without your
help. It will be hard work, I know; but, then, that is what we came into
the service for."
Shorty grumbled to another Orderly as he returned to his place in the
next room:
"There, you see all the thanks you git for bein' a hustler in the way of
doin' your dooty. I done a job for 'em that they should've 'tended to
long ago, and now they sit down on me for it."
CHAPTER XII. SHORTY ON A HUNT GOES AFTER KNIGHTS OF THE GOLDEN CIRCLE.
THAT evening, as Shorty was gathering his things together, preparatory
for starting to the front the next morning, Lieut. Bigelow, one of the
General's young Aids, thrust his head through the doorway and said
gleefully:
"Here, Corporal; I want you. I've got a great lark. Our Secret Service
people report a bad lodge of the Knights of the Golden Circle out here
in the country that threatens to make trouble. It is made up of local
scalawags and runaway rebels from Kentucky and Tennessee. They have a
regular lodge-room in a log house out in the woods, which they have
fixed up into a regular fort, and they hold their meetings at nights,
with pickets thrown out, and no end of secrecy and mystery. The General
thinks that they are some of the old counterfeiting, horse-stealing gang
that infested the country, and are up to their old tricks. But it may be
that they are planning wrecking a train, burning bridges and the like.
They've got so bold that the Sheriff and civil officials are afraid of
them, and don't dare go near them. I've persuaded the General to let me
take out a squad and jump them. Want to go along?"
"I'm your huckleberry," said Shorty.
"I knew you'd be," answered the Lieutenant; "so I got the General to let
me have you. We'll get some 10 or 12 other good boys. That will be
enough. I understand that there are about 100 regular attendants at the
lodge, but they'll not all be there at any time, and a dozen of us can
easily handle what we find there at home."
"A dozen'll be a great plenty," assented Shorty. "More'd be in the way."
"Well, go out and pick up that many of the right kind of boys, bring
them here, and have them all ready by 10 o'clock. You can find guns and
ammunition for them in that room upstairs."
Shorty's first thought was of his old friend, Bob Ramsey, Sergeant of
the Provost-Guard. He found him, and said:
"See here, Bob, I've got something on hand better'n roundin' up
stragglers and squelchin' whisky rows. I've got to pick out some men for
a little raid, where there'll be a chance for a red-hot shindy. Want to
go along?"
"You bet," answered the Sergeant. "How many men do you want? I'll get
'em and go right along."
"No, you don't," answered Shorty. "I'm to be the non-commish of this
crowd. A Lieutenant'll go along for style, but I'll run the thing."
"But you're only a Corporal, while I'm a Sergeant," protested Bob.
"'Taint natural that you should go ahead of me. Why can't you and I run
it together, you next to me? That's the correct thing."
"Well, then," said Shorty, turning away, "you stay and run your old
Provo-Guard. This is my show, and I aint goin' to let nobody in it ahead
o' me."
"Come, now, be reasonable," pleaded Bob. "Why can't you and I go along
together and run the thing? We'll pull together all right. You know I've
been a Sergeant for a long time, and know all about the handling of
men."
"Well, stay here and handle 'em. I'll handle the men that I take, all
right. You kin gamble on that. And what I say to them has to go. Won't
have nobody along that outranks me."
"Well," answered Bob, with a gulp, "let me go along, then, as a
Corporal—I'll change my blouse and borrow a Corporal's—"
"Rankin' after me?" inquired Shorty.
"Yes; we had a Corporal promoted day before yesterday. I'll borrow his
blouse."
"Promoted day before yesterday," communed Shorty; "and you won't presume
to boss or command no more'n he would?"
"Not a mite," asserted Bob.
"Well, then, you kin come along, and I'll be mighty glad to have you,
for I know you're a standup feller and a good friend o' mine, and I
always want to oblige a friend by lettin' him have a share in any good
fight I have on hand."
Jeff Wilson, the Chief Clerk, got wind of the expedition, and he too
begged to be taken along, to which Shorty consented.
When Lieut. Bigelow came in at 10 o'clock he found Shorty at the head of
12 good men, all armed and equipped, and eager for the service.
"In talking with the Secret Service men," explained the Lieutenant,
"they suggested that it would be well to have one good man, a stranger,
dressed in citizen's clothes—butternut jeans, if possible—to go ahead at
times and reconnoiter. He ought to be able to play off refugee rebel, if
possible."
"I'll do it. I'm just the man," said Shorty eagerly.
"Well, just come in here," said the Lieutenant. "Now, there's a lot of
butternut jeans. I guess there's a pair of pantaloons long enough for
you."
When Shorty emerged from the room again there was a complete
transformation. Except that his hair was cut close, he was a perfect
reproduction of the tall, gaunt, slouching Tennesseean.
"Perfect," said the Lieutenant, handing him a couple of heavy Remington
revolvers. "Stow these somewhere about your clothes, and get that
blacking off your shoes as soon as you can, and you'll do."
It was planned that they should sleep until near morning, when the spies
of the Knights of the Golden Circle were not alert, enter a freight-car,
which they would keep tightly shut, to escape observation, while the
train ran all day toward a point within easy reach of their quarry. It
would arrive there after dark, and so they hoped to catch the Knights
entirely unawares, and in the full bloom of their audacity and pride.
The car which the squad entered was locked and sealed, and labeled,
"Perishable freight. Do not delay." Their presence was kept secret from
all the train hands but the conductor, a man of known loyalty and
discretion.
Shorty being in disguise, it was decided that he should saunter down
apart from the rest and take his place in the caboose. He lay down on
the long seat, drew his slouch-hat over his eyes, and seemed to go to
sleep. The train pulled out to the edge of the yard, went onto a switch
and waited for the early morning accommodation to pass out and get the
right-of-way.
A heavily-built, middle-aged man, whose coarse face had evidently been
closely shaved a few days before, entered, carrying a large carpet-sack,
which was well-filled and seemingly quite heavy. He set this carefully
down on the seat, in the corner, walked up to the stove, warmed his
hands, glanced sharply at Shorty, said "Good morning," to which Shorty
replied with a snore, took a plug of tobacco from his pocket, from which
he cut a liberal chew with a long dirk that he opened by giving a
skillful flip with his wrist, put the chew in his mouth, released the
spring which held the blade in place, put both knife and tobacco in his
pocket, and turning around spread the tails of his seedy black frock
coat, and seemed lost in meditation as he warmed.
"Not a farmer, storekeeper or stock-buyer," Shorty mentally sized him
up, "Looks more like a hickory lawyer, herb-doctor or tin-horn gambler.
What's he doin' in this caboose? Up to some devilment, no doubt. He'll
bear watchin'."
And Shorty gave another snore. The man, having completed his warming,
sat down by his carpetsack, laid his arm across it to secure possession,
pulled his battered silk hat down over his eyes, and tried to go to
sleep.
The train rumbled out, and presently stopped at another station. Another
man got on, also carrying a large, heavy carpet-sack. He was younger
than the other, looked like a farm-hand, was dressed partly in homespun,
partly in "store-clothes," wore a weather-stained wool hat, and his
sullen face terminated in a goatee. The first-comer looked him over an
instant, and then said:
"Were you out late last night?"
"I was," replied the second-comer, scanning his interrogator.
"Did you see a star?"
"I did."
"What star was it?"
"It was the Star of Bethlehem."
"Right, my brother," responded the other, putting out his hand in a
peculiar way for the grip of the order.
Shorty, still feigning deep sleep, pricked up his ears and drank in
every word. He had heard before of the greeting formula by which Knights
of the Golden Circle recognized one another, and he tried, with only
partial success, to see the grip.
He saw the two men whisper together and tap their carpet-sacks
significantly. They seemed to come to a familiar understanding at once,
but they talked so low that Shorty could not catch their words, except
once when the first-comer raised his voice to penetrate the din as they
crossed a bridge, and did not lower it quickly enough after passing, and
Shorty heard;
"They'll all be certain to be there tonight."
And the other asked: "And the raid'll be made ter-morrer?"
The first-comer replied with a nod. At the next bridge the same thing
occurred, and Shorty caught the words:
"They've no idee. We'll ketch 'em clean offen their guard."
"And the others'll come out?" asked the second-comer.
"Certainly," said the first, lowering his voice again, but the look on
his face and the way he pointed indicated to Shorty that he was saying
that other lodges scattered through the neighborhood were only waiting
the striking of the first blow to rise in force and march on
Indianapolis, release the rebel prisoners there and carry havoc
generally.
"I see through it all," Shorty communed with himself. "They're goin' to
the same place that we are, and've got them carpet-bags filled with
revolvers and cartridges. Somebody's goin' to have a little surprise
party before he's a day older."
The sun had now gotten so high that Shorty could hardly pretend to sleep
longer. He gave a tremendous yawn and sat up. The older man regarded him
attentively, the other sullenly.
"You must've bin out late last night, stranger," said the first.
"I was," answered Shorty, giving him a meaning look.
"Did you see a star?" inquired the older man.
"I did," answered Shorty.
"What star was it?"
"The Star of Bethlehem," answered Shorty boldly.
"'You're right, my brother," said the man, putting out his hand for the
grip. Shorty did the same, trying to imitate what he had seen. The car
was lurching, and the grasp was imperfect. The man seemed only half
satisfied. Shorty saw this, and with his customary impudence determined
to put the onus of recognition on the other side. He drew his hand back
as if disappointed, and turned a severe look upon the other man.
"Where are you from?" asked the first-comer. Shorty curtly indicated the
other side of the Ohio by a nod.
"Where are you goin'?"
Shorty's face put on a severe look, as if his questioner was too
inquisitive. "Jest up here to 'tend to some bizness," he answered
briefly, and turned away as if to close the conversation.
"Say, I've got a right to know something about you," said the first new-
comer. "I'm Captain of this District, and have general charge o' things
here, and men passin' through."
"All right," answered Shorty. "Have general charge. I don't know you,
and I have bizness with men who roost a good deal higher'n you do."
He put his hands to his breast, as if assuring himself of the presence
of important papers, and pulled out a little ways the official-looking
envelope which contained his transportation and passes. This had its
effect. The "Captain" weakened. "Are you from the Southern army?" he
asked in a tone of respect.
"Before I answer any o' your questions," said Shorty authoritatively,
"prove to me who you are." "O, I kin do that quick enough," said the
"Captain" eagerly, displaying on his vest the silver star, which was the
badge of his rank, and his floridly printed commission and a badly-
thumb-marked copy of the ritual of the Knights of the Golden Circle.
"So far, so good," said Shorty. "Now give me the grip."
Shorty, by watching the motions of the other's hand, was skillful enough
to catch on to the grip this time, and get it exactly. He expressed
himself satisfied, and as the car lay on the siding waiting for another
train to arrive and pass he favored his two companions with one of his
finest fictions about his home in Tennessee, his service in the rebel
army, the number of Yankee Abolitionists he had slain with his own hand,
and his present mission with important communications to those "friends
of the South in Illinois" who were organizing a movement to stop the
bloody and brutal war upon his beloved Southland.
His volubility excited that of the "Captain," who related how he had
been doing a prosperous business running a bar on a Lower Mississippi
River boat, until Abolition fanaticism brought on the war; that he had
then started a "grocery" in Jeffersonville, which the Provost-Marshal
had wickedly suppressed, and now he was joining with others of his
oppressed and patriotic fellow-citizens to stop the cruel and unnatural
struggle against their brethren of the South.
"And we shall do it," he said warmly, bringing out the savage-looking
dirk, throwing it open with a deft movement of his wrist, and shaving
off a huge chew of tobacco. "We have a hundred thousand drilled and
armed men here in the State of Injianny, jest waitin' the word, to throw
off the shackles of tyranny and destroy the tyrants.
"There's another hundred thousand in Illinois and like numbers in other
States. And they'll fight, too. They'll fight to the death, and every
one of them is good for' at least three of the usurper Lincoln's
minions. I'd like nothing better than to get a good opportunity at three
or four o' 'em, armed with nothin' more'n this knife. I'd like nothin'
better than the chance to sock it into their black hearts. 'Twouldn't be
the first time, nuther. The catfish around Jeffersonville could tell
some stories if they could talk, about the Lincoln hounds I've fed to
'em. I only want a good chance at 'em agin. I may go, but I'll take
several of 'em with me. I'll die in my tracks afore I'll stand this any
longer. I hate everything that wears blue worse'n I do a mad-dog."
"And I promise you," said Shorty solemnly, "that you shall have all the
chance you want sooner'n you think for. I know a great deal more'n I
dare tell you now, but things is workin' to a head mighty fast, and
you'll hear something drop before the next change o' the moon. You kin
jest bet your shirt on that."
The day was passing, and as the evening approached the train was running
through a wilder, heavily-wooded country. Shorty's companions took their
seats on the opposite side of the car and peered anxiously out of the
window to recognize features of the darkening landscape. They were
evidently getting near their destination.
Shorty overheard the "Captain" say to his partner:
"The train'll stop for water in the middle of a big beech woods. We'll
get off there and take a path that leads right to the lodge."
"How far'll we have to tote these heavy carpetbags?" grumbled the other.
Shorty slipped his hand into his pocket, grasped his revolvers and eased
them around so that he could be certain to draw them when he wanted to.
He was determined that those men should not leave the train before the
stopping place arranged for his fellow-soldiers. He felt confident of
being able to handle the two, but did not know how many confederates
might be in waiting for them.
"I'll go it if there's a million of 'em," said he to himself. "I'll save
these two fellers anyway, if there's any good in 45-caliber bullets in
their carcasses. I'm jest achin' to put a half-ounce o' lead jest where
that old scoundrel hatches his devilment."
The engine whistled long and shrilly.
"That's the pumpin'-station," said the "Captain," rising and laying hold
of the handles of the carpetbag.
"Drop that. You can't leave this car till I give the word," said Shorty,
rising as the train stopped, and putting himself in the door.
"Can't, eh?" said the "Captain," with a look of rage as he comprehended
the situation. His dirk came out and opened with a wicked snap. "I'll
cut your black heart out, you infernal spy."
'how Do You Like the Looks of That, Old Butternut 169
"You will, eh?" sneered Shorty, covering him with a heavy Remington.
"How'd you like the looks o' that, old butternut? Your murderin' dirk
aint deuce high. Move a step, and you'll know how it feels to have
daylight through you."
The "Captain" smashed the window with a backward blow of his fist,
thrust his head out and yelled the rallying-cry of the Knights:
"Asa! Asa!"
The sound of rushing feet was heard, and a man armed with a shot-gun
came into the plane of light from the open caboose door. Shorty was on
the lookout for him, and as he appeared, shouted;
"Halt, there! Drop that gun. If you move I'll kill this whelp here and
then you."
"Do as he says, Stallins," groaned the frightened "Captain." "He's got
the drop on me. Drop your gun, but holler to the boys in the front car
to come out."
To Shorty's amazement a score of men came rushing back from the car next
ahead of the caboose. They had, by a preconcerted arrangement, been
jumping on the train ever since it grew dark, and collected in that car.
Some of them had guns, but the most appeared unarmed.
"Well, I have stirred up a yaller-jacket's nest for sure," thought
Shorty, rather tickled at the odds which were arrayed against him. "But
I believe I kin handle 'em until either the train pulls out or the boys
hear the ruction and come to my help."
Then he called out sternly as he raised the revolver in his left hand:
"I'll shoot the first man that attempts to come on this car, and I'll
kill your Captain, that I've got covered, dead. You man with that shot-
gun, p'int it straight up in the air or I'll drop you in your tracks.
Now fire off both barrels."
It seemed to every man in the gang that Shorty's left-hand revolver was
pointing straight at him. The man with the shot-gun was more than
certain of this, and he at once complied with the order.
There was a whistle, followed by a rush of men from a line further out,
and every man of those around Shorty was either knocked down or rudely
punched with a musket-barrel in the hands of Lieut. Bigelow's squad.
"What in the world made you so long comin'?" asked Shorty, after all the
prisoners had been secured. "Was you asleep?"
"No," answered the Lieutenant. "This is the place where we intended to
get off. We were quietly getting out so as to attract no notice when you
started your circus. I saw you were doing well, hiving those fellows
together, so I let you go ahead, while I slipped the boys around to
gather them all in. Pretty neat job for a starter, wasn't it?"
CHAPTER XIII. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING BREAKING UP A DEN OF COPPERHEADS.
"COME, hustle these prisoners back into the car in which we were,"
commanded the Lieutenant. "We'll leave it on the switch with a guard.
Lock it up carefully, and one man'll be enough to guard it until we get
back. Make haste, for we've no time to lose. Shorty."
"Corpril Elliott," Shorty corrected him, mindful of the presence of
Sergeant Bob Ramsey.
"Yes; excuse me. Corporal Elliott, while we are attending to the
prisoners you go on ahead and reconnoiter. You need not stop unless you
see fit until you are clear into the lodge. Give one low whistle if you
want us to stop, two to come ahead and three to go back."
It was a moonless night, and the broom-like tops of the close-growing
beeches made a dense darkness, into which Shorty plunged, but he could
readily make out a well-beaten path, which he followed. Occasionally he
could make out dark figures moving just ahead of him or crossing the
path.
"Goin' to be a full attendance at the services this evenin'," he
muttered to himself. "But the more the merrier. It'll insure a goodly
number at the mourner's bench when we make the call for the
unconverted."
Big and lumbering as Shorty sometimes seemed in his careless hours, no
wildcat gliding through the brush was more noiseless-footed than he now.
He kept on the darker side of the path, but not a twig seemed to crack
or a leaf rustle under his heavy brogans. Twice he heard lumbering steps
in his rear, and he slipped behind the big trunk of a tree, and saw the
men pass almost within arm's length, but without a suspicion of his
presence.
"Well, for men workin' a dark-lantern job this is about the logiest
crowd I ever struck," he said rather disgustedly. "An elephant'd have to
step on 'em before they'd know he was around. They ain't hardly good
fun."
Presently he heard some rustling over to his right and caught the low
murmur of a voice. He cautiously made his way in that direction until he
made an opening, with a number of men sitting on a log, while others
were standing, leaning on their guns.
"Probably a caucus outside to set up the pins before goin' into the full
meetin'," he said to himself. "As I always like to be with the winnin'
side, I guess I'll jest jine 'em."
He advanced boldly into the opening. At the sound of his approach the
men looked up, and one of those leaning on his gun picked it up and came
toward him.
"You are out late," he whispered, when within speaking distance.
"Yes," answered Shorty. "And I was out late last night."
"Did you see a star?"
"I did."
"What star was it?"
"It was the Star of Bethlehem."
The first speaker had seemed to start at the sound of Shorty's voice,
but he recovered himself, and saying, "You're right, my brother," put
out his hand for the grip.
"'Taint right, neither," hissed Shorty. "Si Klegg, what are you doin'
here?"
"Shorty!" ejaculated Si, joyfully, but still in a whisper. "I thought I
knowed your voice. Where in the world did you come from?"
"I'm here on business," answered Shorty. "I came up from Headquarters at
Jeffersonville. What brung you here?"
"O," said Si, "we've bin hearin' about this Copperhead lodge for some
time, and some of us boys who's home on furlough thought that we'd come
down here with the Deputy Provo and bust it up. We've bin plannin' it a
week or two. All these that you see, there are soldiers. I've 15,
includin' myself."
The boys hastily conferred together as to the plan of operations, and
one man was hurried back to inform Lieut. Bigelow of the presence of the
other squad.
"You seem to know most about this affair. Shorty," said Si. "You take
command and make arrangements."
"Not for a minute. Si," protested Shorty. "You rank me and you must
command, and I want you to hold your own over Bob Ramsey, who will try
to rank you. Bob's a good boy, but he's rather too much stuck on his
stripes."
It was finally arranged that Si should move his squad out to near the
edge of the path and wait for Lieut. Bigelow to come up, while Shorty
should go forward and reconnoiter.
Shorty walked along the path toward the lodge. Suddenly the large figure
of a man loomed up before him, standing motionless, on guard, in the
road.
"You are out late, my friend," said he.
"Yes," answered Shorty.
"Did you see a star?"
"Yes."
"What was it?"
"The Star of Bethlehem."
"You are right, my brother," said the man, extending his hand for the
grip.
"This rotten star-and-brother rigmarole's making me sick," muttered
Shorty, with a hasty glance to see that the man was alone, and grasping
his hand with a grip of iron, while with his left he clutched the
sentry's throat. Before the man could utter a groan he wrenched him
around and started him back for Si. Arriving there he flung him under
the trees, saying in a loud whisper:
"First sucker o' this Spring's run. String him. Si."
Lieut. Bigelow had come up in the meanwhile with the other squad, and
they all moved cautiously forward to where they could get a dim sight of
the lodge through the intervals between the trees. For a log house it
was quite a large building, and stood in the center of a small clearing
which had been made to furnish logs for its erection. Faint gleams of
light came through the badly-chinked walls, and the hum of voices showed
that there was a large crowd gathered inside.
"There's likely to be from 100 to 150 in there," said the Lieutenant,
after a moment's consideration. "We've got 27 or 28. We'll jump them,
though, if they're a thousand. Corporal Elliott, you go forward and make
your way inside, if you can, and see what they are doing. If you can get
inside, stay 10 or 15 minutes, and come out and report. If you can't get
out, or you think they are ripe for jumping, whistle, and we'll pile in.
Sergeant Klegg, you hold your squad together and move down as near the
door as you can without being seen and be ready for a rush. Find a rail
or a log to smash the door in if they try to hold it against us.
Sergeant Ramsey, deploy your men quietly around to the rear there to cut
off retreat, but be ready to rally again and help Sergeant Klegg out if
he strikes a big snag. You make the circuit of the house and post
yourself where you can see what's going on, and signal your men.
Everybody keep under the shadow of the trees and make no noise. Go on to
the house, Corporal."
Shorty left the cover of the trees and walked directly toward the front
door. No one appeared or halted him until he pushed the front door open.
Then a man who seemed more intent on what was going on inside than the
new arrival, bent his head over to catch the farrago about the star, and
put out his hand for the grip.
"Come on in, but don't make a noise," he whispered. "They're givin' the
obligation, and I want to hear it."
Shorty stood beside him for a moment, and then watched his opportunity,
and pressed by him, to where he could see into the room. It was entirely
dark except for the light of a single candle, shaded so that its rays
fell upon a rude altar in the center of the room, draped with a rebel
flag. Upon this lay a naked sword, skull and cross-bones. Behind the
altar stood a masked man, draped in a long shroud, who was mouthing in a
sepulchral tone the obligation to several men kneeling in front of the
altar. The dim light faintly revealed other masked and shrouded figures
stationed at various places about the room and looming above the seated
audience.
"You solemnly swear," droned the chief actor, "to resist to the death
every attempt to place the nigger above the white man and destroy the
Government of our fathers."
"We do," responded those kneeling at the altar.
"Let it be so recorded," said a sepulchral voice from the other
extremity of the room. A gong sounded dismally and a glare of lurid red
light filled the room.
"Regler Sons o' Malty biziniss, like I seen in St. Looyey," commented
Shorty to himself. "Masks, shrouds, red fire and gong, all the same. But
where've I heard that croakin' voice before?"
"You solemnly promise and swear," resumed the sepulchral tones of the
chief actor, "to do all in your power to restore the Constitution and
laws of this country to what were established by the fathers and resist
the efforts of nigger-loving Abolitionists and evil-minded fanatics to
subvert them."
"We do," responded the kneeling men.
Again the grewsome gong sounded, the red fire glared forth and the
hollow voice announced that it was so recorded.
"I'll bet six bits to a picayune," said Shorty to himself, "that I know
the rooster who's doin' them high priest antics. Where'd I hear his
voice before?"
"And, finally, brethren," resumed the chief actor, "do you solemnly
promise and swear to cheerfully obey all orders given you by officers
regularly appointed over you according to the rules and regulations of
this great order and military discipline?"
There was a little hesitation about this, but the kneeling ones were
nudged and whispered to, and finally responded:
"We do."
Again it was funereally announced to the accompaniment of flashes of red
fire and the gong that it was duly recorded.
"Great Jehosephat, if it ain't old Billings himself that's doin' that
heavy tragedy act," said Shorty, slapping himself on the thigh. "The old
dregs o' the bottomless pit! Is there any deviltry that he won't git
into?"
His decision was confirmed a minute or two later, when, after some more
fanfarronade the initiation ended, the officers removed their masks and
shrouds, and the candles in the sconces around the room were relighted.
Billings took his seat on the platform at the end of the room farthest
from the door, picked up the gavel and rapped for order.
"Now, brethren," said he, "having witnessed the solemn initiation of
several brave, true men into our rapidly-swelling ranks and welcomed
them as real patriots who have united with us to resist to the bitter
end the cruel tyrannies of the Abolition despot at Washington—the vulgar
railsplitter of the Sangamon, who is filling this once happy land with
the graves of his victims, we will proceed to the regular business for
which we have assembled. I regret that our gallant Captain has not yet
arrived with the supply of arms and ammunition that he went to
Jeffersonville to secure. I thought I heard the whistle of the train
some time ago, and have been expecting him every minute. He may be here
yet."
"Not if that guard at the switch 'tends to his little business, he
won't," Shorty chuckled to himself.
"When he gets here," continued Billings, "we shall have enough weapons
to finish our outfit, and give every member, including them initiated
tonight, a good, serviceable arm, as effective as any in the hands of
our enemies. We shall then be in shape to carry out the several projects
which we have before discussed and planned. We shall be ready to strike
at any moment. When we do strike success is sure. The Southern armies,
which have so long bravely battled for the Constitution and the laws and
white men's rights, are again advancing from every point. Every mail
brings me glad good news of the organization of our brave friends
throughout this State and Illinois. They're impatient to begin. The
first shot fired will be the signal for an uprising that'll sweep over
the land like a prairie fire and—"
He stopped abruptly, contracted his brows, and gazed fixedly at Shorty.
"Brother Walker," said Billings, "there's a tall man settin' close by
the door that I seem to've seen before, and yit I don't exactly
recognize. Please hold that candle nigh his face till I can see it more
plainly."
Shorty happened to be looking at another man that minute, and did not at
first catch the drift of Billings's remarks. When he did, he hesitated
an instant whether to whistle or try to get out. Before he could decide,
Eph Glick, whom he had raided at Jeffersonville, struck him a heavy blow
on the side of his head and yelled:
"He's a traitor! He's a spy! Kill the infernal, egg-suckin' hound!"
There was a rush of infuriated men, which carried Shorty over and made
him the object of a storm of blows and kicks. So many piled on him at
once that they struck and kicked one another in their confusion. The
door was torn out, and its pieces fell with the tumble of cursing,
striking, kicking men that rolled outside.
Si rushed forward with his squad, and in an instant they were knocking
right and left with their gun-barrels. So many fell on top of Shorty
that he was unable to rise and extricate himself.
Not exactly comprehending what was going on, but thinking that the time
for them to act had come, the four boys to whom Si had given the duty of
making the rush with the log to break down the door, came bolting up,
shouting to their comrades:
"Open out, there, for us."
'the Prisoners Had Too Much Solicitude About Their Garments to Think of
Anything Else.' 185
Their battering-ram cleaned off the rest of those still pommeling
Shorty, and drove back those who were swarming in the door.
Shorty sprang up and gave a rib-breaking kick to the prostrate Eph
Glick.
The crowd inside at first recoiled at the sight of the soldiers, but,
frightened for his own safety, Billings shouted, as he sheltered himself
behind the altar:
"Don't give way, men. There's only a few o' them. Draw your revolvers
and shoot down the scum. Drive 'em away."
A score of shots were fired in obedience, but Si, making his voice ring
above the noise, called out:
"Stop that firing, or I'll kill every man in the house. If there's
another shot fired we'll open on you and keep it up till you're every
one dead. Surrender at once!"
"Go at 'em with the bayonet, Si," yelled Shorty. "I'm goin' around to
ketch old Billings. He's in there, and'll try to sneak out the back
way."
As Shorty ran around the corner he came face-to-face with a stalwart
Irishman, one of the pluckiest of the squad brought from Jeffersonville.
His face was drawn and white with fright, and he fumbled at his beads.
"O, Corpril," he said, with chattering teeth, "Oi've jist sane the very
divil himself, so Oi have. Oi started to run up t' the house whin the
ruction begun, when suddintly the ground opened up at me very fate, an'
out kim a ghost, tin fate hoigh, wid oyes av foire, and brathing flames,
an' he shtarted for me, an' oi—"
"What damned nonsense is this, O'Brien?" asked Shorty angrily. "Are you
drunk, or jest naturally addled? Come along with me and we'll—"
"Not for a thousand loives," groaned the Irishman. "Howly saints, fwhat
is old Clootie after me for? Is it for atin' that little taste o' ham
last Friday? Holy Mary, save me; there he is again!"
"Where, you flannel-mouthed Mick?" asked Shorty savagely. "Where do you
see the devil?"
"There! There! That white thing. Don't you say it yersilf?" groaned the
Irishman, dropping on his knees, and calling on all the saints.
"That white thing. That's only a sycamore stump, you superstitious bog-
trotter," said Shorty, with angry contempt, as he bent his eyes on the
white object. Then he added in the next breath:
"But blamed if that stump ain't walkin' off. Funny stump."
He gave a leap forward for closer investigation. At the crash of his
footsteps the stump actually turned around and gave a sepulchral groan.
Then, seeing that it was not a soldier pursuing, a very natural human
voice proceeded from it.
"Is that you, Brother Welch? I thought at first it was a soldier. I
motioned you when the trouble first begun to follow me through the
underground passage. There was enough others there to make the fight,
and it'd never do for us to be taken by the Lincolnites. We're too
valuable to the cause just now, and, then, if the Lincolnites get hold
of me they'll certainly make me a martyr. Come right over this way. We
kin strike a path near here that'll take us right out."
"Great Jehosephat," said Shorty, "if it ain't old Billings, masqueradin'
in his Sons o' Malty rig."
He made another leap or two, clapped his hand on Billings's shoulder,
and shoved the muzzle of his revolver against the mask and demanded:
"Halt and surrender, you barrel-headed, splayfooted son of a sardine.
Come along with me, or I'll blow that whole earthquake rig offen you."
Shorty marched his prisoner back to the house, and as he neared it saw
by the light of a fire O'Brien, who had apparently recovered from his
fright, for he was having a lively bout with a large young fellow who
was trying to make his escape. It seemed an even thing for a minute or
two, but the Irishman finally downed his antagonist by a heavy blow with
his massive fist.
"Here, O'Brien," said Shorty, "I've ketched your devil and brung him
back to you. When a boss shies at anything the best way's to lead him
square up to it and let him smell it. So I want you to take charge o'
this prisoner and hold him safe till the scrimmage is over."
O'Brien looked at the figure with rage and disgust. He gave Billings a
savage clout with his open hand, saying:
"Ye imp o' the divil—ye unblest scab of an odmahoun. Oi'll brake ivery
bone av yer body for goin' around by noights in thim wake-duds, scaring
daysint folks out av their siven sinses."
The fighting had been quite a severe tussle for the soldiers. There had
not been much shooting, but a great deal of clubbing with gun-barrels
and sticks, which left a good many bloody heads and aching arms and
shoulders. About half of those in the meeting had succeeded in getting
away, but this still left some 75 prisoners in the hands of Lieut.
Bigelow, and he was delighted with his success.
It was decided to hold all the prisoners in the lodge until morning, and
two of the boys who had gotten pretty badly banged about the head were
sent back to the railroad to relieve and assist the guard left there.
"I find about 10 or 15 birds in the flock," said the Deputy Provost, who
was also Deputy Sheriff, when they looked over the prisoners in the
morning, "that we have warrants and complaints for, for everything from
plain assault and battery to horse-stealing. It would save the military
much trouble and serve the ends of justice better if we could send them
over to the County seat and put them in jail, where the civil
authorities could get a whack at them. I'd go there myself if I could
walk, but this bullet in my shin disables me."
"I'd like to do it," answered Lieut. Bigelow, "but I haven't the guard
to spare. So many of my men got disabled that I won't have more than
enough to guard the cars on the way back and keep these whelps from
jumping the train or being rescued by their friends when we stop at the
stations. The news of this affair is all over the country by this time,
and their friends will all be out."
"How fur is it to the County seat?" asked Shorty.
"About 15 miles," answered the Deputy Provost.
"Me and Si Klegg'll march 'em over there, and obligate ourselves not to
lose a rooster of 'em," said Shorty.
"That'll be a pretty big contract," said the Lieutenant doubtfully.
"All right. We're big enough for it. We'll take every one of 'em in if
we have to haul some of 'em feet foremost in a wagon."
"It'll be a great help in many ways," considered Lieut. Bigelow. "The
crowd'll be looking for us at the stations and not think of these
others. Those are two very solid men, and will do just what they
promise. I think I'll let them try it. It would be well for you to tell
those men that any monkey business with them will be unhealthy. They'd
better trust to getting away from the grand jury than from them."
But as the Deputy Provost went over them more carefully he found more
that were "wanted" by the civil authorities, and presently had selected
25 very evil-looking fellows, whose arrest would have been justified on
general appearances.
"Haint we bit off more'n we kin chaw. Shorty?" asked Si, as he looked
over the increasing gang. "Hadn't we better ask for some help?"
"Not a bit of it," answered Shorty, confidently. "That'll look like
weakenin' to the Lieutenant and the Provo. We kin manage this gang, or
we'll leave 'em dead in the brush."
"All right," assented Si, who had as little taste as his partner for
seeming to weaken. "Here goes for a fight or a foot-race."
While the Deputy was making out a list of the men and writing a note to
the Sheriff, Shorty went through the gang and searched each man for
arms. Then he took out his knife and carefully cut the suspender buttons
from every one of their pantaloons.
"Now we've got 'em, Si," he said gleefully, as he returned to his
partner's side, with his hand full of buttons. "They'll have to use both
hands to hold their britches on, so they kin neither run nor fight.
They'll be as peaceable as lambs."
"Shorty," said Si, in tones of fervent admiration, "I wuz afeared that
crack you got on your head softened your brains. But now I see it made
you brighter'n ever. You'll be wearin' a General's stars before this war
is over."
"Bob Ramsey was a-blowin' about knowin' how to handle men," answered
Shorty. "I'm just goin' to bring him over here and show him this trick
that he never dreamed of."
After he had gloated over Sergeant Ramsey, Shorty got his men into the
road ready to start. Si placed himself in front of the squad and
deliberately loaded his musket in their sight. Shorty took his place in
the rear, and gave out:
"Now, you roosters, you see I've two revolvers, and I'm a dead shot with
either hand. I'm good for 12 of you at the first jump and my partner kin
'tend to the rest. Now, if I see a man so much as make a motion toward
the side o' the road I'll drop him. Give the command. Sergeant Klegg."
"Forward—march!" ordered Si.
It was as Shorty predicted. The prisoners had entirely too much
solicitude about their garments to think of anything else, and the march
was made without incident. Late in the afternoon they reached the County
seat, and marched directly for the public square, in which the jail was
situated. There were a few people on the streets, who gathered on the
sidewalks to watch the queer procession. Shorty, with both hands on his
revolvers, had his eyes fixed on the squad, apprehensive of an attempt
to bolt and mix with the crowd. He looked neither to the right nor the
left, but was conscious that they were passing a corner on which stood
some ladies. Then he heard a voice which set his heart to throbbing call
out:
"Hello, Si Klegg! Si Klegg! Look this way. Where'd you come from?"
"Great Jehosephat! Maria!" said Shorty to himself. But he dared not take
his eyes a moment from the squad to look toward her.
CHAPTER XIV. GUARDING THE KNIGHTS SI AND SHORTY STAND OFF A MOB AT THE
JAIL.
HAVING seen their prisoners safely behind the bars, Si and Shorty
breathed more freely than they had since starting out in the morning,
and Si remarked, as he folded up the receipt for them and placed it in
his pocket-book:
"That drove's safely marketed, without the loss of a runaway or a
played-out. Purty good job o' drovin', that. Pap couldn't do better'n
that with his hogs. I'm hungrier'n a wolf. So must you be, Shorty. Le's
hunt up Maria, and she'll take us where we kin git a square meal. Then
we kin talk. I've got a hundred questions I want to ask you, but ain't
goin' to do it on an empty gizzard. Come on."
Shorty had dropped on to a bench, and fixed his eyes on the stone wall
opposite, as if desperately striving to read there some hint of
extrication from his perplexities. The thought of encountering Maria's
bright eyes, and seeing there even more than her sharp tongue would
express, numbed his heart.
"Yit, how kin I git away from Si, now?" he murmured to himself. "And yit
I'm so dead hungry to see her again that I'd be willin' to be a'most
skinned alive to do it. Was ever anybody else so big a fool about a
girl? I've plagued other fellers, and now I've got it worse'n anybody
else. It's a judgment on me. But, then, nobody else ever seen such a
girl as that. There's some sense in bein' a fool about her."
"Come on, Shorty," called Si from the door. "What are you dreamin' on?
Are you too tired to move? Come on. We'll have a good wash, that'll take
away some of the tiredness, then a big dinner, and a good bed tonight.
Tomorrer mornin' we'll be as good as new."
"I think I'd better git right on the next train and go back to
Jeffersonvillie," murmured Shorty, faintly struggling with himself.
"They may need me there."
"Nonsense!" answered Si. "We've done enough for one day. I've bin up for
two nights now, and am goin' to have a rest. Let some o' the other
fellers have a show for their money. We haint got to fight this whole
war all by ourselves."
"No, Si," said Shorty, summoning all his resolution; "I'm goin' back on
the next train. I must git back to the company. They'll—"
"You'll do nothin' o' the kind," said Si impatiently. "What's eatin'
you? What'd you skip out from our house for? What'd you mean—"
He was broken in upon by Maria's voice as she came in at the head of a
bevy of other girls:
"Si Klegg, ain't you ever comin' out? What's akeepin' you? We're tired
waitin' for you, and w're comin' right in. What're you doin' to them
ragamuffins that you've bin gatherin' up? Tryin' to patch 'em up into
decent-lookin' men? Think it'll be like mendin' a brush-fence—makin' bad
worse. Where on earth did you gather up sich a gang o' scare-crows? I
wouldn't waste my days and nights pickin' up sich runts as them. When I
go manhuntin' I'll gether something that's worth while."
Every bright sally of Maria was punctuated with shrieks of laughter from
the girls accompanying her. Led by her, they swarmed into the dull, bare
room, filling it with the brightness of their youthful presence, their
laughter, and their chirruping comments on everything they saw. The jail
was a place of deep mystery to them, and it was a daring lark for them
to venture in even to the outside rooms.
"The girls dared me to bring 'em in," Maria explained to Si, "and I
never won't take no dare from anyone. Si, ain't you goin' to kiss your
sister? You don't act a bit glad to see me. Now, if it was Annabel—"
"Why, Maria," said Si, kissing her to stop her mouth, "I wasn't
expectin' to see you. What in the world are you doin' over here?"
"Why, your Cousin Marthy, here, is goin' to be married Thursday to her
beau, who's got 10 days' leave to come home for that purpose. The
thing's bin hurried up, because he got afeared. He heard that Marthy was
flyin' around to singin' school and sociables with some other fellers
that's home on furlough. So he just brung things to a head, and I rushed
over here to help Marthy git ready, and stand by her in the tryin' hour.
Why, here's Mr. Corporil Elliott, that I hain't spoken to yit. Well, Mr.
Skip-and-away, how d' you do? Girls, come up here and see a man who
thought mother's cookin' was not good enough for him. He got homesick
for army rations, and run off without so much as sayin' good-by, to git
somethin' to eat that he'd really enjoy."
Her merry laugh filled the room, and rang even into the dark cells
inside. Shorty shambled to his feet, pulled off his hat, and stood with
downcast eyes and burning face. He had never encountered anything so
beautiful and so terrifying.
Maria was certainly fair to look upon. A buxom, rosy-cheeked lass,
something above the average hight of girls, and showing the Klegg blood
in her broad chest and heavy, full curves. She was dressed in the
hollyhock fashion of country girls of those days, with an exuberance of
bright colors, but which Shorty thought the hight of refined fashion. He
actually trembled at what the next words would be from those full, red
lips, that never seemed to open except in raillery and mocking.
"Well, ain't you goin' to shake hands with me? What are you mad about?"
"Mad? Me mad? What in the world've I to be mad about?" thought Shorty,
as he changed his hat to his left hand, and put forth shamedly a huge
paw, garnished with red hair and the dust of the march. It seemed so
unfit to be touched by her white, plump hand. She gave him a hearty
grasp, which reassured him a little, for there was nothing in it, at
least, of the derision which seemed to ring in every note of her voice
and laughter.
"Girls," she called, "come up and be introduced. This is Mr. Corpril
Elliott, Si's best friend and partner. I call him Mr. Fly-by-night,
because he got his dander up about something or nothin', and skipped out
one night without so much's sayin'—"
"O, Maria, come off. Cheese it. Dry up," said Si impatiently. "Take us
somewhere where we kin git somethin' to eat. Your tongue's hung in the
middle, and when you start to talkin' you forgit everything else. I'm
hungrier'n a bear, and so's Shorty."
An impulse of anger flamed up in Shorty's heart. How dared Si speak that
way to such a peerless creature? How could he talk to her as if she were
some ordinary girl?
"O, of course, you're hungry," Maria answered. "Never knowed you when
you wasn't. You're worse'n a Shanghai chicken—eat all day and be hungry
at night. But I expect you are really hungry this time. Come on. We'll
go right up to Cousin Marthy's. I sent word that you was in town, and
they're gittin' ready for you. I seen a dray-load o' provisions start up
that way. Come on, girls. Cousin Marthy, bein's you're engaged and Si's
engaged, you kin walk with him. The rest o' you fall in behind, and I'll
bring up the rear, as Si'd say, with Mr. Fly-by-night, and hold on to
him so that he sha'n't skip again."
"Me run away," thought Shorty, as they walked along. "Hosses couldn't
drag me away. I only hope that house is 10 miles off."
Unfortunately for his cause he could not say nor hint any such a thing,
but walked along in dogged silence. The sky was overcast and cheerless,
and a chill wind blew, but Shorty never knew such a radiant hour.
"Well, why don't you say something? What's become o' your tongue?" began
Maria banteringly.
"Have you bit it off, or did some girl, that you bolted off in such a
hurry to see, drain you so dry o' talk that you haint got a word left?
Who is she? What does she look like? What made you in sich a dreadful
hurry to see her? You didn't go clear up to Bad Ax, did you, and kill
that old widower?"
"Maria," called out Si, "if you don't stop plaguin' Shorty I'll come
back there and wring your neck. You kin make the worst nuisance o'
yourself o' any girl that ever lived. Here, you go up there and walk
with Cousin Marthy. I'll walk with Shorty. I've got something I want to
say to him."
With that he crowded in between Maria and Shorty and gave his sister a
shove to send her forward. Shorty flared up at the interference. Acute
as his suffering was under Maria's tongue, he would rather endure it
than not have her with him. Anyhow, it was a matter between him and her,
with which Si had no business.
"You oughtn't to jaw your sister that way, Si," he remonstrated
energetically. "I think it's shameful. I wouldn't talk that way to any
woman, especially sich a one as your sister."
"Whose sister is she, anyway?" snapped Si, who was as irritable as a
hungry and tired man gets. "You 'tend to your sisters and I'll 'tend to
mine. I'm helpin' you. You don't know Maria. She's one o' the best girls
in the world, but she's got a doublegeared, self-actin' tongue that's
sharper'n a briar. She winds it up Sundays and lets it run all week.
I've got to comb her down every little while. She's a filly you can't
manage with a snaffle. Let her git the start and you'd better be dead.
The boys in our neighborhood's afeared to say their soul's their own
when she gits a-goin'. You 'tend to the other girls and leave me to
'tend to her. She's my sister—nobody else's."
Have Come, Sir, in the Name of The People Of Indiana To Demand the
Release of Those Men. 199
Shorty fell back a little and walked sullenly along. The people at the
house were expecting them, and had a bountiful supper prepared. A good,
sousing wash in the family lavatory in the entry, plentifully supplied
with clear water, soap, tin basins and clean roller towels, helped much
to restore the boys' self-respect and good humor. When they were seated
at the table Maria, as the particular friend of the family, assisted as
hostess, and paid especial attention to supplying Shorty's extensive
wants, and by her assiduous thoughtfulness strengthened her chains upon
him and soothed the hurts her tongue had made. Yet he could not see her
whisper to one of the other girls, and hear the responsive giggle, but
he thought with flushed face that it concerned the Bad Ax incident. But
Maria was not doing any such covert work. She was, above everything,
bold and outspoken.
"You girls that want a soldier-beau," she took opportunity to remark at
a little pause in the feast, "kin jest set your caps for Mr. Corpril
Elliott there. He's in the market. He had a girl up in Bad Ax, Wis., but
she went back on him, and married a stay-at-home widower, who's in the
lumber business."