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CHAPTER XVII. THE FRIGHTENED SURGEON
SI AND SHORTY HAVE A TIME WITH THEIR WILD, YOUNG SQUAD
MUCH to their amazement, the boys waked up the next morning in Nashville, and found that they had passed through the "dark and bloody ground" of Kentucky absolutely without adventure.
"How in the world'd we ever git clean through the State without the least bit o' trouble?" asked Harry Joslyn, as they stood together on the platform awaiting the return of Si and Shorty, who had gone to see about their breakfast. "It was fight from the word go with the other men from the minute they struck Kentucky."
"Probably it was Corpril Elliott's good management," suggested Gid Mackall, whose hero-worship of Shorty grew apace. "I tell you there aint a trick o' soldierin' that he aint up to."
"Corpril Elliott's?" sneered Harry Joslyn. "You're just stuck on Corpril Elliott. If it was anybody's good management it was Sargint Klegg's. I tell you, he's the boss. He got shot through the breast, while Corpril Elliott only got a crack over the head. That settles it as to who's the best soldier. I'm kind o' sorry that we didn't have no trouble. Mebbe the folks at home'll git the idea that we skulked and dodged."
"That's so," accorded the others, with a troubled look.
"But we are now in Tennessee," chirped in Gid Mackall hopefully. "That's ever so much worse'n Kentucky. We must come to rebels purty soon now. They won't let so many reinforcements git to Gen. Thomas if they kin help it." And Gid looked around on his companions, as if he thought their arrival would turn the scale and settle the fate of the Confederacy. "They'll probably jump us just as soon as we leave town. Them big forts on the hills mebbe keeps them outside now, but they're layin' for us just beyond. Wonder if we'll git our guns here? Mebbe that's what the Sargint and Corpril's gone for."
"They said they were going for our breakfast," said Harry. "And I hope it's true, for I'm hungrier'n a rip-saw. But I could put off breakfast for awhile, if they'd only bring us our guns. I hope they'll be nice Springfield rifles that'll kill a man at a mile."
"'Tention!" commanded Si. "Fall in single rank 'cordin' to your size. Tall boys on the right, short ones on the left, medium in the center. Gid Mackall, you're the tallest. You can go there to the corner o' the platform and let the others form on you."
Si stepped back into the shed to look after some matters.
Harry Joslyn whipped around and took his stand on the right of Gid Mackall.
"Here," protested Gid; "Sargint Klegg told me to stand on the right. You're smaller'n me. Git on the other side."
"I won't do it," answered Harry. "I've always stood ahead o' you in school, ever since we were in the primer class, and I aint goin' to stand behind you in the army. You needn't try to gouge me out o' my rights because you're half-a-head taller. I'm two months older'n you, and I can throw you in a wrastle every time."
"I tell you," said Gid, giving Harry an angry shove toward the left, "that this is my place, and I'm goin' to stand here. The Sargint told me to. Go down where you belong, you little rat."
The hot-headed Harry mixed up with him immediately, school-boy fashion. Shorty rushed up and separated the two, giving Harry a sharp shake. "Stop that, and go down to your place in the center," said he.
"Yes; you side with him," whimpered Harry, "because he praises you and says you're a better soldier'n Sargint Klegg. I'm goin' to tell Sargint Klegg that."
"Here," said Si, sternly, as he came back again. "What's all this row? Why don't you boys fall in 'cordin' to size, as I told you?"
"Sargint," protested Harry, "Gid Mackall wants to stand at the head o' the class. I'm older'n him, I can spell him down, and I can throw him in—"
Si interrupted the appeal by taking Harry by the ear and marching him to his place.
"Look here," he said, "when you git an order from anyone, don't give 'em no back talk. That's the first thing you've got to learn, and the earlier you learn it the less trouble you'll have. If you don't like it, take it out in swearin' under your breath, but obey."
"But, Sargint, he said that Corpril Elliott was a better soldier'n"
"Silence in ranks," said Si, giving him a shake. "Right dress. Come out in the center. Mackall, stand up straight there. Take that hump out o' your shoulders. Put your heels together, all of you. Turn your toes out. Put your little fingers down to the seams o' your pantaloons. Draw your stomachs in. Throw your chests out. Hold your heads up. Keep your faces straight to the front, and cast your eyes to the right until you kin see the buttons on the breast o' the third man to your right. Come forward until they're in line.
"Goodness," moaned some of the boys, as they were trying to obey what seemed a' hopeless mass of directions, "do we have to do this every mornin' before we kin have breakfast? We'll starve to death before we git anything to eat. No use tellin' us to draw our stomachs in. They're clean in to our backbones now."
"Mustn't talk in ranks, boys," Shorty kindly admonished. "It's strictly agin' regulations. Straighten up, there, like soldiers, all o' you, and git into a line. Looks like a ram's horn now. If the rebels'd shoot down that line they wouldn't hit one o' you."
Jim Humphries, one of the medium-sized boys, suddenly turned as white as a sheet and fell on the planks. One after another of those around him did the same, until a half-dozen were lying there in a heap.
"What in the world's the matter?" asked Si, rushing up to them in dismay.
"They're pizened, that's what they are," shouted Harry Joslyn. "That guerrilla goin' over there pizened 'em. I saw him a-givin' 'em something. He's tryin' to git away. Le's ketch him."
At the word the boys made a rush for the man who was quietly walking off. As they ran they threw stones, which went with astonishing precision and force. One of them struck the man on the head and felled him. Then the boys jumped on him and began pounding and kicking him. Si and Shorty came up, pushed off the boys and pulled the man to his feet. He was terrified at the onset which had been made upon him, and could not understand its reason.
"What've I done?" he gasped. "What're all yo'uns weltin' me for? I haint no rebel. I've done tuk the oath of allegiance long ago."
"Now there'll be a hangin' sure," said Harry, in eager expectancy.
"What'd you do to them boys back there?" demanded Si.
"Didn't do nothin' to 'em. Sw'ar to God A'mighty I didn't."
"That telegraph pole will be just the thing to hang him on," suggested Harry to Gid. "We could put him on a flat car and push the car out from under him. I'll look around for a rope, Gid, and you git ready to climb the pole."
"He did do something to 'em, Sargint," said Gid Mackall. "I seen him givin' 'em something."
"'Twas only a little mite o' terbacker," the man explained. "They'uns said they'uns was mouty hongry, and wanted t' know if I'd anything t' eat. I hadn't nothing, but I done had a little terbacker, which I tole 'em'd take away the hongry feelin', and I gin each o' they'uns a lettle chaw."
"I shouldn't wonder but he's tellin' the truth," Shorty whispered to Si. "Le's take him back there and see."
Coming back to the platform they found the boys there recovering but still very weak and pale. They confirmed the story about the tobacco. Shorty examined the rest of the tobacco in the man's possession with the practiced taste of a connoisseur, found it strong black plug, just the thing to upset a green boy who took it on an empty stomach, cut off a liberal chew for himself and dismissed the man with a kick.
"Now, le's form agin and march to breakfast. Great Scott, how hungry I am," said Si. "'Tention. Fall in 'cordin' to size. Single rank."
"What's size got to do with gittin' breakfast?" complained Harry Joslyn, who had another grievance, now that he had again been disappointed in hanging a guerrilla. "Biggest boys'll git there first and get the most to eat. The rest of us need just as much as they do."
"Silence in the ranks," commanded Shorty, snappishly. "Don't fool around. Git into your place and stay there. We want breakfast some time today."
Shorty lined up the boys in a hurry and Si commanded.
"Right dress! Come out a little there on the left! Steady! Without doublin', right face!"
A squad of Provost-Guards came up at a double-quick, deployed, surrounded the squad and began bunching the boys together rather roughly, using the butts of their muskets.
"What does this mean?" Si asked angrily of the Lieutenant in command.
"It means that you and your precious gang have to go down to Provo' Headquarters at once," answered the Lieutenant. "And no words about it. Forward, march, now."
"But you've got no business to interfere with me," protested Si. "I've got my orders to take this squad o' recruits to my regiment, and I'm doin' it. I'm goin' to put 'em on the cars as soon's I kin git breakfast for 'em, and start for Chattanoogy."
"Well, why didn't you get breakfast for them and put them on the cars peaceably and quietly, without letting them riot around and kill citizens and do all manner of devilment. You have a fine account to settle."
"But they haint killed no citizen. They haint bin riotin' around, and I ain't a-goin' with you. You've no right, I tell you, to interfere with me."
"Well, you just will go with me, and no more chinning."
A Major, attracted by the altercation, rode up and asked what was the matter.
"Word came to Headquarters," explained the Lieutenant, "that a squad of recruits were rioting, and had killed a citizen, and I was sent down here on the run to stop it and arrest the men. This Sergeant, who seems to be in command, refuses to go with me."
"I tell you, Major," said Si, who recognized the officer as belonging to his brigade, "there was nobody killed, or even badly hurt. These little roosters got up a school-yard scrap all about a mistake; it was all over in a minute. There's the man they say was killed, settin' over there on that pile o' lumber smokin' his pipe."
"You're Si Klegg, aren't you, of the 200th Ind.?" asked the Major.
"Yes, Major," answered Si, saluting. "And you're Maj. Tomlinson, of the 1st Oshkosh. This is my pardner. Shorty."
"Glad to see you with Sergeant's stripes on," said the Major, shaking hands with him. "I congratulate you on your promotion. You deserved it, I know."
"So did Shorty," added Si, determined that his partner should not lack full measure of recognition.
"Yes, I congratulate Shorty, too. Lieutenant, I know these men, and they are all right. There has been a mistake. You can take your men back to Headquarters."
"'Tention," commanded the Lieutenant. "Get into line! Right dress! Front! Right face! Forward, file left—march!"
"'Tention," commanded Si. "Fall in in single ranks, 'cordin' to size. Be mighty spry about it. Right dress! Count off in whole numbers."
Another Provost squad came double-quicking up, followed by some ambulances. Again the boys were hurriedly bunched up. The Provost squad, however, did not seem to want to come to as close quarters as the other had. They held back noticeably.
"Now, what in thunder does this mean?" asked Si with angry impatience. "What's up now?"
"Sergeant, are you in command of this squad?" asked a brisk little man with the green stripes of a Surgeon, who got out of one of the ambulances.
"Yes, I am," said Si, saluting as stiffly as he dared. "What's the matter?"
"Well, get those men of yours that are down into the ambulances as quickly as you can, and form those that are able to walk close behind. Be on the jump, because the consequences of your staying here may be serious to the army. How are you feeling yourself? Got any fever? Let me see your tongue."
"What in the world's the matter with you?" asked Si in bewilderment.
"Come, don't waste any time asking questions," answered the nervous little Surgeon. "There's more troops coming right along, and we mustn't take any chances of their catching it."
"Ketch what? Great grief, ketch what?" groaned Si. "They've already ketched everything in this mortal world that was ketchable. Now what are they goin' to ketch?"
"Why, the smallpox, you dumby," said the Surgeon irritably. "Don't you know that we are terribly afraid of a visitation of smallpox to the army? They've been having it very bad in some places up North, and we've been watching every squad of recruits from up there like hawks. A man came down to Hospital Headquarters just now and reported that a dozen of your boys had dropped right on the platform. He said that he knew you, and you came from a place in Indiana that's being swept by the smallpox."
"Smallpox, your granny," said Si wrathfully. "There haint bin no smallpox in our neighborhood since the battle o' Tippecanoe. The only man there who ever had it fit in the battle under Gen. Harrison. He had it when he was a child, and was so old that the pockmarks on him wuz wore so smooth you could scarcely see 'em. Our neighborhood's so healthy you can't even have a square case o' measles. Gosh darn it," Si exploded, "what glandered fool was it that couldn't tell 'backer-sick from smallpox? What locoed calves have you runnin' up to your Headquarters bawlin' reports?"
"Sir," said the Surgeon stiffly, "you forget that you are speaking to your superior officer."
"Excuse me. Doctor," said Si, recovering himself and saluting. "I'm very hungry, and worried to death with these frisky kids that I'm trying to git to my regiment. The only trouble is that some of the trundle-bed graduates took their first chaw o' terbacker this mornin' on empty stomachs and it keeled 'em over. Come here and look at 'em yourself. You'll see it in a minute."
"Certainly. I see it very plainly," said the Surgeon, after looking them over. "Very absurd to start such a report, but we are quite nervous on the subject of smallpox getting down to the army.
"Take your men in and give them their breakfast, Sergeant, and they'll be all right.
"That's what I've bin tryin' to do for the last two hours," said Si, as he saluted the Surgeon, departing with his ambulances and men. "'Tention. Confound you, fall in in single rank, 'cordin' to size, and do it in short meter, before anything else happens. Right dress! Front! Without doublin', right face! Great Scott, what's the matter with you roosters? Don't you know your right hands from your lefts? Turn around there, you moon-eyed goshngs! Forward—file right—march!"
"Here, Sergeant," said a large man with three chevrons on his arm. "I want to halt your men till I look 'em over. Somebody's gone through a sutler's car over there on the other track and I think it was your crowd. I want to find out."
"Halt nothin'," said Si, brushing him out of the way. "I'm goin' to git these youngsters their breakfast before there's a tornado or an earthquake. Go 'way, if you know what's good for you."
CHAPTER XVIII. NO PEACE FOR SI AND SHORTY
THE YOUNGSTERS KEEP THEM BUSY WHILE THE TRAIN MOVES SOUTH
THE long fast had sharpened the zest the boys had for their first "soldier-breakfast." Until they got down to "real soldier-living" they could not feel that they were actually in the service. To have this formal initiation in the historic city of Nashville, far in the interior of the Southern Confederacy, was an exhiliarating event. The coarse fare became viands of rare appetency.
"Gracious, how good these beans taste," murmured Harry Joslyn, calling for a second plateful; "never knowed beans to taste so good before. Wonder how they cook 'em? We'll have to learn how, Gid, so's to cook 'em for ourselves, and when we git back home won't we astonish our mothers and sisters?"
"And sich coffee," echoed Gid. "I'll never drink cream in my coffee agin. I hadn't no idee cream spiled coffee so. Why, this coffee's the best stuff I ever drunk. Beats maple sap, or cider through a straw, all holler. That's good enough for boys. This 's what men and soldiers drink."
"You know those old gods and goddesses," put in Montmorency Scruggs, a pale, studious boy, for shortness called "Monty," and who had a great likeness for ancient history and expected to be a lawyer, "drunk what they called nectar. Maybe it was something like this."
"But we haven't had any hardtack yet," complained Albert Russell, a youth somewhat finicky as to dress, and who had ambitions of becoming a doctor. "They've only given us baker's bread, same as we got on the other side of the river, only better-tasting. Why don't they give us real soldier bread? I've heard Uncle Bob laugh at the 'soft-bread snoozers,' who never got near enough the front to know the taste of hardtack."
"Well, I'm going to eat all I can of it while I can get it," said little Pete Skidmore, the youngest and smallest of the lot, who had only passed the Mustering Officer by exhibiting such a vehement desire to enter the service as to make up for his probable lack of years and quite evident lack of inches. "I've heard Uncle Will say that he was always mighty glad to get back where he could get soft bread for a change, after he'd worn his grinders down to the quick chawing hardtack. It tastes awful good, anyway."
"The Government must pay big wages to the men it hires to do its cooking," philosophized Harry Joslyn, "same as it does to its lawyers and Congressmen and Generals. No common men could cook grub that way. Mebbe it took the cooks away from the Astor House and Delmonico's."
"The boys are certainly making up for lost time," complacently remarked Shorty, as, having taken off the edge of his own hunger with a plateful of pork-and-beans and a half loaf of bread, he stopped for a moment to survey the havoc that his young charges, ranged at a long, rough counter, were making in the Commissary stores. "They're eatin' as if this was the last square meal they expected to git till the rebellion's put down."
"Yes," laughed Si, emptying his second cup of coffee, "I used to think that we had appetites that'd browse a five-acre lot off clean every meal, but these kids kin distance us. If they live off the country its bones 'll be picked mighty white when they pass. That lean, lank Gid Mackall seems to be as holler as a sassidge-skin. Even that wouldn't give room for all that he's stowin' away."
"Harry Joslyn 's runnin' nose-and-nose with him. There ain't the width o' their forelocks difference. Harry's yelled for more beans at the same second that Gid has. In fact, not one of 'em has lagged. They're a great gang, I tell you, but I wouldn't want to board any one of 'em for six bits a week."
Maj. Oglesvie came up.
"Serg't Klegg," said he, "the Quartermaster says that he's got a train load of ammunition to send forward, but he's scarce of guards. I thought of your squad. Don't you think you could take charge of it? I don't imagine there is much need of a guard, for things have been pretty quiet down the road for some weeks. Still, it isn't right to send off so important a train without any protection."
"Only be too glad of the dooty, sir," answered Si, saluting. "It'll give the boys something to think of besides hanging guerrillas. Besides, they're just crazy to git hold o' guns. Where kin I git muskets for 'em?"
"March them right over to that shed there," said the Major, "and the Quartermaster will issue them muskets and equipments, which you can turn over again when you reach Chattanooga. Good-by. I hope you'll have a pleasant trip. Remember me to the boys of the old brigade and tell them I'll be with them before they start out for Atlanta."
"Purty slouchy bizniss that, givin' these kids guns before they've had any drill at all—don't know even the facin's, let alone the manual of arms," remarked Shorty doubtfully, as they marched over to the shed. "They'll be shooting holes through each others' heads and the tops o' the cars, and'll waste more ammynition than a six-mule team kin haul. They'll make a regler Fourth o' July from here to Chattynoogy."
"Don't be worried about them boys," Si reassured him. "Every one of 'em is used to handlin' guns. Then, we kin keep the catridges ourselves and not issue any till they're needed, which they mayn't be."
The boys were in a buzz of delight at getting the guns they had so longed for, and Si's first duty was to end an exuberant bayonet fencing match between Gid and Harry which was imitated all along the line.
"Stop that," he called. "Put your minds to learnin' to load and shoot first. It'll be some time before you git a chance to prod a rebel with a bayonet. Rebels are as wild as crows. You'll be lucky to git as close to 'em as the other side of a 40-acre field."
"But s'posin' a rebel runs at you with his bayonet," expostulated Harry Joslyn, "oughtn't you to know how to ward him off and settle him?"
"The best way's to settle him jest as he comes over the hill, half-a-mile away, with an ounce o' cold lead put where he lives. That'll take the pint offen his bayonet mighty certainly."
Si and Shorty showed the boys how to put on the belts carrying the cap- and cartridge-boxes, and gave them a little dumb-show instruction in loading and firing, ending with exhibiting to them a cartridge, and the method of tearing it with the teeth and putting it in the gun.
"Now give us some catridges," clamored the boys, "and let us do some real shooting."
"No," said Si; "we'll keep the catridges ourselves, and issue them to you when the enemy comes in sight."
"Nice time to give out catridges then," grumbled Harry Joslyn. "When we see the rebels we want to begin shootin' instid o' botherin' you with questions. You wouldn't kill many coons if you had to run back to the house for your powder and lead after you saw the coon before you could shoot him."
"Well, you can't have no catridges now," said Si decisively. "We're not likely to see any coons before we git to Murfreesboro. Then we'll see how things look further down the road. Take off your bayonets, all o' you, and pile into them rear cars there. Stow yourselves around and be as comfortable as you kin."
The boys preferred the tops of the cars to the inside, and scattered themselves along the length of the train to view the war-worn country of which they had heard so much from their relatives who had campaigned there. Si settled himself down in the car to read the morning papers which he had gotten in Nashville, and Shorty, producing a pack of new cards, began a studious practice, with reference to future operations in Chattanooga.
The train was slowing down for the bridge near Lavergne, when there came a single shot, followed by a splutter of them and loud yells.
Exceedingly startled, Si and Shorty sprang up, seized their guns, bounded to the door and looked out. They could see nothing to justify the alarm. There was not a rebel, mounted or unmounted, in sight. In the road below were two or three army teams dragging their slow way along, with their drivers yelling and laughing at a negro, whose mule was careering wildly across the fenceless field. The negro had been apparently jogging along, with a collection of plunder he had picked up in an abandoned camp strung upon his mule, when the latter had become alarmed at the firing and scattered his burden in every direction. The rider was succeeding in holding on by clinging desperately to the mule's neck.
Si set his gun down and clambered up the side of the car.
"What's all that shootin' about?" he demanded of Harry Joslyn.
"I didn't mean it, sir," Harry explained. "I was just aiming my gun at things I see along the road—just trying the sights like. A turkey-buzzard lighted on a stump out there, and I guess I must have forgot myself and cocked my gun, for it went off. Then Gid, seeing me miss, tried to show he was a better shot, and he banged away and missed, too, and then the other boys, they had to try their hands, and they belted away, one after another, and they all missed. I guess we didn't count as we ougther've done on the goin' forward o' the train, because we all struck much nearer than we expected to that nigger on a mule, and scared his mule nigh out o' his skin. We really didn't intend no harm."
"Where did you git catridges?" demanded Si.
"Why, that box that Alf Russell got was half full. He tried to keep 'em all hisself, and intended to shoot 'em off, one by one, to make the rest of us envious. Alf always was a pig in school, and never would divide his apples or doughnuts with the other boys. But we see them almost as quick as he did, an' Gid and me set down on him suddently, as he was lying on the roof, and took away all his catridges, and give 'em around to the rest o' the boys, one a-piece."
"Are they all gone now?"
"Yes, sir; every one shot away," answered Harry regretfully.
Si looked through several of the boxes and at some of the guns to assure himself of this. He gave those near him a lecture on their offense, and then climbed down into the car and resumed his paper, while Shorty was soon immersed again in the abstruse study of the relation of the cross-barred designs on the back of the cards to the numbers and suits of their faces.
They had passed Lavergne, and were approaching Stewart's Creek, when another startling rattle of musketry broke out, this time from the forepart of the train.
"Now, great Scott, what's up?" said Si angrily, as he quickly surveyed the surrounding country. He saw that they were not attacked, and then clambered to the top of the car, where he noticed little wreaths of powder-smoke lingering around the squad in which were Jim Humphreys, little Pete Skidmore and Wes. Brown.
"What're you young whelps shootin' for?" demanded Si. They were all so abashed at his sternness that they could not find their tongues for reply, until little Pete piped up:
"Why we've bin talkin' to the train men, and they said they wuz shot at wunst, about a year ago, from that swamp back there, and we got some catridges from them, and we thought we saw something moving in there, though Jim Humphreys said it wuz only burned stumps that we took for men, and them other boys back there had bin shootin' off their gunn and tryin' 'em, and we thought we could too—"
"You little brats," said Si; "didn't you hear my orders about firin' before we started? If another boy shoots without my orders I'll tie him up by the thumbs! Got any more catridges? Give me every one of 'em."
The boys all protested that every cartridge was gone. Si assured himself of this by examination, savagely scored the train men for giving them ammunition and threatened trouble if any more was, and having relieved his mind returned to his paper in the caboose-car.
The train ran on to a switch where there was another carrying a regiment going home on veteran furlough. Si and Shorty knew some of the men, and in the pleasure of meeting them and in hearing all the news from the front forgot that their boys were mingling with the others and being filled full of the preposterous stories with which veterans delight to stuff new recruits. Finally the whistles gave notice that the trains would move. Si got his boys back on the cars, and renewing his caution about taking care of themselves, holding on tightly and looking out for overhanging branches, returned with Shorty to their car and their occupations.
"We're comin' to Stewart's Crick, Shorty," said Si, looking up from his paper. "Recollect that hill ovyr there? That's where they had that battery that the Colonel thought we wuz goin' to git. Great Scott, the mud and briars in that old field!" "Yes," said Shorty, negligently, with his eyes fixed on the backs of the cards. "But that's ancient history. Say, I've got these marks down fine at last. They're just as plain as A, B, C. You see, when that corner o' the square comes out clear to the edge it's clubs, every time, and there's just as many spots as there is of lines—"
He was interrupted by a volley, apparently from every gun on the roofs of the cars. Then a chorus of shrill, treble, boyish yells, and next instant another volley. The two sprang to the door and looked out. Not a sign of a rebel anywhere. Si went up one side of the car, Shorty the other. They ran along the tops of the cars, storming at the boys, kicking them and bumping their heads against the boards to make them stop. When they succeeded Si sternly ordered every one of them to leave the roofs and come down into the cars. When he had gathered them there he demanded:
"Now, I want to know at once what this means?" Little Pete Skidmore again became the spokesman of the abashed crowd.
"Why, them men back there on the switch cautioned us above all things not to let the rebels git the drop on us when we come to that crick; that we wouldn't see nothin' of 'em—nothin' but a low bank, behind which they wuz hid, with their guns pokin' through the brush, but the moment we see the bank breastwork throwed up along the crick we must let into it. That's what it's for. The rebels throwed it up to hide behind. Them men said that the brush back there was as full o' rebels as a hound o' fleas, and that we must let into 'em the moment we see the bank, or they'd git the drop on us. They had an awful time there theirselves, and they gave us all the catridges they had left for us to use."
"You little numbskulls," said Si; "why didn't you come to use and tell us about this?"
"They told us to be partickeler and say nothin' to you. Your stayin' back there in the car showed that you didn't know nothin' about it; you hadn't bin down this way for a long time and wasn't up to the latest improvements, and you wuz jest as like as not to run us into a hornets' nest; that you wuzzent our real officers, anyway, and it didn't much matter to you what happened to us."
"Our own sins are comin' back on us. Shorty," remarked Si. "This is a judgment on you for the way you've filled up recruits at every chance you got."
"'Taint on me," said Shorty, shrugging his shoulders. "I'm not in command. You are."
"I shall be mighty glad when we git this outfit to Chattanoogy," sighed Si. "I'm gittin' older every minute that I have 'em on my hands."
