INTRODUCTION TO "ONE WHO STICKETH CLOSER THAN A BROTHER."
"HELLO Si; goin' for a soljer, ain't ye?"
"You bet!"
"Wall, you'd better b'lieve its great fun; it's jest a picnic all the
time! But, say, Si, let's see yer finger-nails!"
"I'd like ter know what finger-nails 's got to do with soljerin'!" said
Si. "The 'cruitin' ossifer 'n' the man 't keeps the doctor shop made
me shuck myself, 'n' then they 'xamined my teeth, 'n' thumped me in the
ribs, 'n' rubbed down my legs, 'n' looked at my hoofs, same 's if
'I'd bin a hoss they wuz buyin', but they didn't say nothin' 'bout my
finger-nails."
"You jest do 's I tell ye; let 'em grow, 'n' keep 'em right sharp. Ye'll
find plenty o' use fer 'em arter a while, 'n' 'twont be long, nuther. I
know what I'm talkin' 'bout; I've been thar!"
This conversation took place a day or two before Si bade farewell to
his mother and sister Marier and pretty Annabel and left the peaceful
precincts of Posey County to march away with the 200th Ind. for that
awful place vaguely designated as "the front!" He had promptly responded
to the call, and his name was near the top of the list of Company Q.
[Illustration: "LET YER NAILS GROW; YE'LL NEED 'EM" 097 ]
Si already had his blue clothes on. By enlisting early he had a
good pick of the various garments, and so got a suit that fitted his
form--which was plump as an apple-dumpling tolerably well. It was left
for the tail-enders of the company to draw trousers that were six inches
too long or too short, and blouses that either wouldn't reach around,
and left yawning chasms in front, or were so large that they looked as
if they were hung on bean-poles.
Of course, Si couldn't be expected to do any more plodding farm work,
now that he had "jined" the army. While the company was filling up he
spent most of his time on dress parade in the village near by, eliciting
admiring smiles from all the girls, and an object of the profoundest awe
and wonder to tha small boys.
One day Si was sitting on the sugar-barrel in the corner grocery,
gnawing a "blind robin," and telling how he thought the war wouldn't
last long after the 200th Ind. got down there and took a hand and got
fairly interested in the game; they would wind it up in short meter.
Such ardent emotions always seethed and bubbled in the swelling breasts
of the new troops when they came down to show the veterans just how to
do it.
One of the town boys who had been a year in the service, had got a
bullet through his arm in a skirmish, and was at home on furlough, came
into the store, and then took place the dialog between him and Si that
opens this chapter.
Si wondered a good deal what the veteran meant about the finger-nails.
He did not even know that there existed in any nature a certain active
and industrious insect which, before he had been in the army a great
while, would cause his heart to overflow with gratitude to a beneficent
Providence for providing him with nails on his fingers.
When the 200th left Indiana all the boys had, of course, brand-new
outfits right from Uncle Sam's great one-price clothing house. Their
garments were nice and clean, their faces well washed, and their hair
yet showed marks of the comb. At Louisville they stuck up their noses,
with a lofty consciousness of superiority, at the sight of Buell's
tanned and ragged tramps, who had just come up on the gallop from
Tennessee and northern Alabama.
[Illustration: "SAY, CAP, WHAT KIND O' BUG IS THIS?" 099 ]
If the new Hoosier regiment had been quartered for a while in long-used
barracks, or had pitched its tents in an old camp, Si would very soon
have learned, in the school of experience, the delightful uses of
finger-nails. But the 200th stayed only a single night in Louisville
and then joined the procession that started on the chase after the rebel
army. It generally camped on new ground, and under these circumstances
the insect to which allusion has been made did not begin its work of
devastation with that suddenness that usually marked its attack upon
soldiers entering the field. But he never failed to "git there" sooner
or later, and it was more frequently sooner than later.
One afternoon, when a few days out on this march, a regiment of
Wisconsin veterans bivouacked next to the 200th Ind. The strange antics
as they threw off their accouterments attracted Si's attention.
"Look a' thar," he said to Shorty. "What 'n name of all the prophets 's
them fellers up to?"
"Seems like they was scratchin' theirselves!"
"I s'pose that's on account of the dust 'n' sweat," said Si.
"It's a mighty sight worse 'n that!" replied Shorty, who knew more about
these things than Si did. "I reckon we'll all be doin' like they are
'fore long."
Si whistled softly to himself as he watched the Wisconsin boys. They
were hitching and twisting their shoulders about, evidently enjoying
the friction of the clothing upon their skins. There was a general
employment of fingers, and often one would be seen getting come other
fellow to scratch his back around where he couldn't reach himself. If
everybody was too busy to do this for him he would back up to a tree and
rub up and down against the bark.
Life has few pleasures that can equal the sensations of delightful
enjoyment produced in those days, when graybacks were plenty, by rubbing
against a tree that nicely fitted the hollow of the back, after throwing
off one's "traps" at the end of a day's march.
Directly the Wisconsin chaps began to scatter into the woods. Si watched
them as they got behind the trees and threw off their blouses and
shirts. He thought at first that perhaps they were going in swimming,
but there was no stream of water at hand large enough to justify this
theory in explanation of their nudity. As each man set down, spread his
nether garment over his knees and appeared to be intently engaged, with
eyes and fingers. Si's curiosity was very much excited.
"Looks 's if they wuz all mendin' up their shirts and sewin' on
buttons," said Si, "Guess it's part o' their regular drill, ain't it,
Shorty?"
Shorty laughed at Si's ignorant simplicity. He knew what those veterans
were doing, and he knew that Si would have to come to it, but he didn't
want to shock his tender sensibilities by telling him of it.
"Them fellers ain't sewin' on no buttons. Si," he replied; "they're
skirmishin'."
"Skirmishin'!" exclaimed Si, opening his eyes very wide. "I haint seen
any signs o' rebs 'round here, 'n' there aint any shootin' goin' on,
'nless I've lost my hearin'. Durned if 't aint the funniest skirmishin'
I ever hearn tell of!"
"Now, don't ax me nuthin' more 'bout it, Si," said Shorty. "All I'm
goin' to tell ye is that the longer ye live the more ye'll find things
out. Let's flax 'round 'n' git supper!"
A little while after, as Si was squatting on the ground holding the
frying-pan over the fire, he saw a strange insect vaguely wandering
about on the sleeve of his blouse. It seemed to be looking for
something, and Si became interested as he watched it traveling up and
down his arm. He had never seen one like it before, and he thought he
would like to know what it was. He would have asked Shorty, but his
comrade had gone to the spring for water. Casting his eye around he saw
the Captain, who chanced to be sauntering through the camp.
The Captain of Co. Q had been the Principal of a seminary in Posey
County, and was looked upon with awe by the simple folk as a man who
knew about all that was worth knowing. Si thought he might be able to
tell him all about the harmless's-looking little stranger.
So he put down his frying-pan and stepped up to the Captain, holding out
his arm and keeping his eye on the insect so that he shouldn't get away.
"Good evenin', Cap.," said Si, touching his hat, and addressing him
with that familiar disregard of official dignity that characterised
the average volunteer, who generally felt that he was just as good as
anybody who wore shoulder straps.
"Good evening, Klegg," said the Captain, returning the salute.
"Say, Cap, you've been ter collidge 'n' got filled up with book-larnin';
p'raps ye kin tell me what kind o' bug this is. I'm jest a little bit
curious to know."
And Si pointed to the object of his inquiry that was leisurely creeping
toward a hole in the elbow of his outer garment.
"Well, Josiah," said the Captain, after a brief inspection, "I presume
I don't know quite as much as some people think I do; but I guess I can
tell you something about that insect. I never had any of them myself,
but I've read of them."
"Never had 'em himself," thought Si. "What 'n the world does ha mean?"
And Si's big eyes opened with wonder and fear at the thought that
whatever it was he had "got 'em."
"I suppose," continued the Captain, "you would like to know the
scientific name?"
"I reck'n that'll do 's well 's any."
"Well, sir, that is a Pediculus. That's a Latin word, but it's his
name."
"Purty big name fer such a leetle bug, ain't it, Perfessor?" observed
Si. "Name's big enough for an el'fant er a 'potamus."
[Illustration: "SKIRMISHING" 103 ]
"It may seem so, Klegg; but when you get intimately acquainted with him
I think you will find that his name isn't any too large for him. There
is a good deal more of him than you think."
The young soldier's eyes opened still wider.
"I was going on to tell you," continued the Captain, "that there are
several kinds of Pediculi--we don't say Pediculuses. There is the
Pediculus Capitis--Latin again--but it means the kind that lives on the
head. I presume when you were a little shaver your mother now and then
harrowed your head with a fine-tooth comb?"
"Ya-as" said Si; "she almost took the hide off sometimes, an' made me
yell like an Injun."
"Now, Klegg, I don't wish to cause you unnecessary alarm, but I will say
that the head insect isn't a circumstance to this one on your arm.
As you would express it, perhaps, he can't hold a candle to him. This
fellow is the Pediculus Corporis!"
"I s'pose that means they eats up Corporals!" said Si.
"I do not think the Pediculus Corporis confines himself exclusively to
Corporals, as his name might indicate," said the Captain, laughing at
Si's literal translation and his personal application of the word. "He
no doubt likes a juicy and succulent Corporal, but I don't believe he is
any respecter of persons. That's my opinion, from what I've heard about
him. It is likely that I 'will be able to speak more definitely, from
experience, after a while. Corporis means that he is the kind that
pastures on the human body. But there's one thing more about this
fellow, some call him Pediculus Vestimenti; that is because he lives
around in the clothing."
"But we don't wear no vests," said Si, taking a practical view of this
new word; "nothin' but blouses, 'n' pants, 'n' shirts."
"You are too literal, Klegg. That word means any kind of clothes. But I
guess I've told you as much about him as you care to know at present. If
you want any more information, after two or three weeks, come and see
me again. I think by that time you will not find it necessary to ask any
more questions."
Si went back to his cooking, with the Pediculus still on his arm. He
wanted to show it to Shorty. The Captain's profound explanation, with
its large words, was a little too much for Si. He did not yet clearly
comprehend the matter, and as he walked thoughtfully to where Shorty was
"bilin'" the coffee he was trying to get through his head what it all
meant.
"Hello, Si," said Shorty; "whar ye bin? What d'ye mean, goin' off 'n'
leavin' yer sowbelly half done?"
"Sh-h!" replied Si. "Ye needn't git yer back up about it. Bin talkin' to
the Cap'n. Shorty, look at that 'ere bug!"
And Si pointed to the object of the Captain's lecture on natural history
that was still creeping on his arm. Shorty slapped his thigh and burst
into a loud laugh.
"Was that what ye went to see the Cap'n 'bout?" he asked as soon as he
could speak.
"Why--ya-as," replied Si, somewhat surprised at Shorty's unseemly
levity. "I saw that thing crawlin' round, 'n' I was a-wonderin' what
it was, fer I never seen one afore. I knowed Cap was a scolard, 'n' a
perfesser, 'n' all that 'n' I 'lowed he c'd tell me all about it. So I
went 'n' axed him."
"What'd he tell ye?"
"He told me lots o' big, heathenish words, 'n' said this bug was a
ridiculous, or suthin' like that."
"'Diculus be blowed!" said Shorty, "The ole man was a'stuffin' ye. I'll
tell ye what that is, Si," he added solemnly, "that's a grayback!"
"A grayback!" said Si. "I've hearn 'em call the Johnnies graybacks, but
I didn't know 's there was any other kind."
"I reck'n 'twont be long, now, till yer catches on ter the meanin' ol
what a grayback is. Ye'll know all 'bout it purty sudden. This ain't the
first one I ever seen."
Si was impressed, as he had often been before, by Shorty's superior
wisdom and experience.
"See here. Si," Shorty continued, as his eye suddenly lighted up with a
brilliant thought, "I guess I kin make ye understand what a grayback is.
What d'ye call that coat ye've got on?"
"Why, that's a fool question; it's a blouse, of course!"
"Jesso!" said Shorty. "Now, knock off the fust letter o' that word, 'n'
see what ye got left!"
Si looked at Shorty as if he thought his conundrums were an indication
of approaching idiocy. Then he said, half to himself:
"Let's see! Blouse--blouse--take off the 'b' 'n' she spells l-o-u-s-e,
louse! Great Scott, Shorty, is that a louse?"
"That's jest the size of it. Si. Ye'll have millions of 'em 'fore the
war's over 'f they don't hurry up the cakes."
Si looked as if he would like to dig a hole in the ground, get into it,
and have Shorty cover him up.
"Why didn't the Cap'n tell me it was that? He said suthin' about
ridiculus corporalis, and I thought he was makin' fun o' me. He said
these bugs liked to eat fat Corporals.'
"I reck'n that's so," replied Shorty; "but they likes other people jest
as well--even a skinny feller like me. They lunches off'n privits, 'n'
Corp'rils, 'n' Kurnals, 'n' Gin'rals, all the same. They ain't satisfied
with three square meals a day, nuther; they jest eats right along all
the time 'tween regular meals. They allus gits hungry in the night, too,
and chaws a feller up while he sleeps. They don't give ye no show at
all. I rayther think the graybacks likes the ossifers best if they
could have their ch'ice, 'cause they's fatter 'n the privits; they gits
better grub."
Si fairly turned pale as he contemplated the picture so graphically
portrayed by Shorty. The latter's explanation was far more effectual in
letting the light in upon Si's mind than the scientific disquisition
of the "Perfesser." He had now a pretty clear idea of what a "grayback"
was. Whatever he lacked to make his knowledge complete was soon supplied
in the regular way. But Si was deeply grieved and shocked at what Shorty
had told him. It was some minutes before he said anything more.
"Shorty," he said, with a sadness in his tone that would almost have
moved a mule to tears, "who'd a-thought rd ever git as low down 's this,
to have them all-fired graybacks, 's ye call 'em, crawlin' over me.
How'd mother feel if she knew about 'em. She wouldn't sleep a wink fer a
month!"
"Ye'll have to come to it. Si. All the soljers does, from the
Major-Gin'rals down to the tail-end of the mule-whackers. Ye mind them
'Sconsin chaps we was lookin' at a little bit ago?"
"Yes," said Si.
"Well, graybacks was what ailed 'em. The fellers with their shirts on
their knees was killin' 'em off. That's what they calls 'skirmishin'.
There's other kinds o' skirmishing besides fitin' rebels! Ye'd better
git rid of that one on yer arm, if he hasn't got inside already; then
there'll be one less of 'em."
Si found him after a short search, and proposed to get a chip, carry him
to the fire and throw him in.
"Naw!" said Shorty in disgust, "that's no way. Lemme show yer how!"
[Illustration: "NAW! LEMME SHOW YE HOW!" 107 ]
Shorty placed one thumb-nail on each side of the insect. There was a
quick pressure, a snap like the crack of a percussion cap, and all was
over.
Si shuddered, and wondered if he could ever engage in such a work of
slaughter.
"D'ye s'pose," he said to Shorty, "that there's any more of 'em on me?"
And he began to hitch his shoulders about, and to feel a desire to put
his fingers to active use.
"Shouldn't wonder," replied Shorty. "Mebbe I've got 'em, to. Let's go
out'n do a little skirmishin' ourselves."
"We'd better go off a good ways," said Si, "so's the boys won't see us."
"You're too nice and pertickler for a soljer. Si. They'll all be doin'
it, even the Cap'n himself, by termorrer or nex' day."
They went out back of the camp, where Si insisted on getting behind
the largest tree he could find. Then they sat down and engaged in that
exciting chase of the Pediculus up and down the seams of their garments,
so familiar to all who wore either the blue or the gray. Thousands
of nice young men who are now preachers and doctors and lawyers and
statesmen, felt just as bad about it at first as Si did.
"Shorty," said Si, as they slowly walked back to eat their supper, which
had been neglected in the excitement of the hour, "before Co. Q left
Posey County to jine the rigiment a feller 't was home on furlow told
me ter let my finger-nails grow long 'n' sharp. He said I'd need 'em. I
didn't know what he meant then, but I b'lieve I do now."