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

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

"At present prices o' pork in Injianny," remarked Si, after a little mental figuring, "that wasn't such a bad fee."

"If you speak to the Captain," suggested Si, "he'll let you go back home to your wife. I don't believe there's goin' to be anything special to-night. The cavalry don't seem to be stirrin' up nothin out there."

"I don't keer t'," said Nate, in his sweet, girlish drawl. "Ruther stay with yo'all. Mout somethin' happen. Biff Perkins an' his gang o' gorillers is out thar somewhar, not fur off, huntin' a chance fur deviltry. I'd like mouty t' git a whack at they'uns. Nance'll keep. She's mine now, fast an' good, for ever, an'll wait fur me. Afore we wuz spliced I wuz afeered Zach Barnstable mout work some contrivance t' git her, but now she belongs t' me."

The boys took him to their hearts more than ever.

At the coming of the early dawn the regiment was aroused and marched back to camp, there to meet orders to move forward at once, as soon as breakfast was prepared and eaten. Away it marched for the Tennessee River, behind which Bragg was supposed to be gathering his forces for the defense of Chattanooga.

As Co. Q went by the cabin, Grandfather Onslow was seated in a rocking-chair on the porch, smoking a cob pipe, while Mrs. Nancy Onslow Hartburn, with her finger bashfully in her mouth, peeped around the corner. Co. Q gave her a cheer, at which she turned and fled out of sight, as if it was some raillery on her newly-married state, and Nate hung down his head, as if he, too, felt the boys were poking fun at him.

"Good-by, boys. Lick the life outen Ole Bragg," quavered Grandfather Onslow, waving his hand after them.

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

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

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

Shorty and Si considered Nate Hartburn their special protege, and were deeply anxious to transform him into a complete soldier in the shortest possible time. He was so young, alert, and seemingly pliable, that it appeared there would be no difficulty in quickly making him a model soldier. But they found that while he at once responded to any suggestion of a raid or a fight, drill, discipline and camp routine were bores that he could be induced to take only a languid interest in. Neither Si nor Shorty were any too punctilious in these matters, but they were careful to keep all the time within easy conversational distance of the regulations and tactics. Naturally, also, they wanted their pupil to do better than they did. But no lecturing would prevent young Hartburn from slouching around camp with his hands in his pockets and his head bent. He would not or could not keep step in the ranks, nor mark time. While Si was teaching him he would make a listless attempt to go through the manual of arms, but he would make no attempt to handle his gun the prescribed way after the lesson was ended. Si was duly mindful of the sore time he himself had in learning the drill, and tried to be very considerate with him, but his patience was sorely tried at times.

"For goodness' sake, Nate," Si would say irritably, "try to keep step. You're throwin' everybody out."

"'Tain't my fault, Si," Nate would reply with a soft drawl. "Hit's theirs. I'm walkin' all right, but they'uns hain't. Jaw them. What's the sense o' walkin' so' close together, anyway? Yo' don't git thar no sooner."

Then again: "Great jumpin' Jehosephat, Nate, will you never learn the right way to hold your gun when you present arms? You must turn the trigger outside, not the hammer."

"O, Jeminy, what difference does. .h.i.t make? I never kin recollect hit, an' what's the use o' tryin'? Can't see no sense in holdin' a gun straight up an' down that-a-way, anyway, an' if yo' do, hain't one side jest as good as t'other?"

He was so obdurate that the boys would some times be provoked to sharp words to him, but his gentle speech would quickly disarm them again, and make them feel penitent.

At last the 200th Ind. came out upon the crest of Waldron's Ridge, overlooking the Tennessee River, which wound and turned amid the towering mountains like a band of bright silver traversing the giant billows of green. Everyone caught his breath at the sight, for beyond the stream were rebel camps, and moving trains and long, lines of marching men. Was all of Bragg's army gathered over there to dispute the pa.s.sage or was a part still this side of the river, ready to pounce on our heads of columns as they meandered down the mountain?

The brigade was closed up, information sent to the Division Commander, and the 200th Ind. pushed to the front to develop whatever might be there. Si with Shorty and some others were sent ahead to feel for the enemy.

"Take him along?" asked Si of Shorty in a low tone, with a nod toward Nate, as they were making up the squad.

"Don't know," answered Shorty. "If ever in the world, we want men with us to-day who don't git rattled, and make a holy show o' theirselves before the regiment, but'll keep cool, watch their chances, and obey orders. Guess we'd better leave him behind."

"Seems to me," said Si, trying vaguely to recall his Scriptual readings, "that the Bible says some thing agin takin' a newly-married man right into battle just after he's married."

He looked around again, saw Nate taking his place along with the other men selected, and called out: "Here, Nate, fall back to the company. You can't go along."

"Please, Mister Si, le' me go along," begged Nate, in the soft tones of a girl asking for a flower. "I'll be good. I'll hold my gun straight, an' try t' keep step."

"No, you can't go., This 's partickler business, and we want only experienced men with us. Better fall back to the company."

"Go ahead, there, Corporal," commanded the Adjutant. "Time's pa.s.sing. We must move."

Si deployed his men and entered the dense woods which curtained the view and shrouded the enemy. It was one of those deeply anxious moments in war, when the enemy is in ambush, and the next instant, the next step may develop him in deadly activity.

Si was on the right of his line and Shorty on the left, and they were pushing forward slowly, cautiously, and with every sense strained to the extremity of alertness.

So dense was the foliage overhead that it was almost a twilight in the forest depths they were penetrating, and Si's eyes were strained to keep track of the men moving on his left, and at the same time watch the developments in front. He had noticed that he was approaching a little opening some distance ahead, and that beyond it was a dense thicket of tall laurels. Then he thought he heard a low whistle from Shorty, and looked far to the left, while continuing to walk forward.

Suddenly he was startled by a shot a little to his rear and left. Then a shot answered from the laurel thicket, he saw the bushes over there stir violently, and he heard Nate's voice say: "He wuz layin' for yo', Si, an' come nigh a-gittin' yo', but I think I must've at least creased him, from the wild way he shot back. Le's go forrard an' see."

"I thought I told you to stay back," said Si, more intent on military discipline than his escape.

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

"How'd you know he wuz there?"

"I done seed the bushes move over his head. I knowed jest how he wuz a-layin' for yo'. Le's go forrard an' git him."

Si and Nate ran across the open s.p.a.ce to the laurels, and found a little ways in a bushwhacker staggering from pain and loss of blood from a wound in his hip, and making labored efforts to escape.

"I done hit him; I done fetched him; I done knowed jist whar he wuz," exclaimed Nate with boyish exultation.

At the sound of his voice the bushwhacker turned around upon him an ugly, brutal face, full of savage hatred.

"Why, hit's bad ole Wash Barnstable, what burnt daddy's stable with two horses, an' shot brother Wils through the arm. I'll jist job him in the heart with my bayonet," screamed the boy as he recognized the face. His own features became transfigured with rage, and he began fixing his bayonet. Si pushed forward and caught the bushwhacker by the shoulder and tore the gun from his hand. Nate came springing up, with his bayonet pointed directly at the man's heart. Si saw it in time to thrust it aside, saying in wrathful astonishment: "Nate, you little scoundrel, what do you mean? Would you kill a wounded man?"

"Suttenly I'll done kill him," screamed the boy in a a frenzy of rage. "Why not? He desarves. .h.i.t, the h.e.l.l-hound. All of us Hartburns 've said we'd done kill him the minnit we laid eyes on him. Now that I've got him I'm gwine t' finish him."

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

"Indeed you're not," said Si, releasing his hold on the prisoner and catching Nate's gun. "You mustn't kill a wounded man, you young wildcat."

[Ill.u.s.tration: "YOU MUST'NT KILL A WOUNDED MAN 143]

"Why not?" shouted the boy, beside himself with rage. "He's done killed lots o' men. He'll kill more if yo' let him go. He wuz layin' t' kill yo'. Air yo' gwine t' gin him another chance to down yo'?"

Si wrested the gun from him. Two or three other boys who had been attracted by the shot came up at this moment. Si gave the prisoner into the charge of one of them, with instructions to take him to the rear. Nate released his hold on his gun and made a jump for the one which the other boy had stood against a tree when he started to take hold of the prisoner. Again Si was too quick for him. He was by this time so angry that he was in the mood to give Nate a severe lesson, but the Adjutant, had ridden forward, called out: "Go ahead, there, Corporal. We're just behind you."

"Pick up your gun, there, Nate, and come along with me, if you kin behave yourself. There's work much more important than killin' wounded bushwhackers. Come along, this minute."

Nate hesitated a moment, then picked up his gun with a vengeful look at the prisoner.

"I'll kill him yit. Mebbe I'll git a chance this evenin' yit," said he, and followed Si.

CHAPTER XII.

SI AND SHORTY IN LUCK.

THEY MAKE A BRIEF VISIT TO "G.o.d'S COUNTRY."

THE shot fired by Nate Hartburn was the only one that interrupted the progress of the 200th Ind. to the banks of the Tennessee River. Its cautious advance at last brought it out on the crest of a hill, at the foot of which, 200 feet below, flowed the clear current of the mountain-fed stream. The rebels were all on the other side. Their pickets could be plainly seen, and they held the further pier of the burned railroad bridge. To our right rose three strong forts, built the year previous.

As soon as it was determined that all the enemy were beyond the river, the 200th Ind. went into camp for the afternoon and night upon a cleared spot which had been used for that purpose before our troops had been flanked out of that country by Bragg's raid into Kentucky just a year before.

A dress parade was ordered at 6 o'clock, and when the Adjutant came to "publish the orders," the regiment was astonished and Si electrified to hear: "In pursuance of orders from Division Headquarters to detail squads from each of the different regiments to proceed to their respective States to bring back recruits and drafted men for the regiments, First Lieut. Bowersox, of Co. A, and Corp'l Josiah Klegg, of Co. Q, with six enlisted men of that company, to be selected by Capt. McGillicuddy, are here by detailed for that duty, and will prepare to leave to-morrow morning."

Si clutched his partner in his excitement and said, "Shorty, did you hear that? I'm to be sent back to Injianny. Ain't that what he said?"

"If my ears didn't mistake their eyesight, them was about his words," returned Shorty. "You're in luck."

"And you're goin' with me, Shorty."

"The Adjutant didn't include that in his observations. I ain't so crazy, anyway, to git back to Injianny. Now, if it wuz Wisconsin it'd be different. If you've got any recruits to bring on from Wisconsin, I'm your man. I'd go up there at my own expense, though I don't s'pose that Rosecrans could spare me just now. What'd become o' the army if he'd git sick, and me away?"

"But, Shorty, you are goin'. You must go. I won't go if you don't."

"Don't say won't too loud. You're detailed, and men that's detailed don't have much choice in the matter.

"You'll probably act sensibly and do whatever you're ordered to do. Of course, I'd like to go, if we kin git back in time for this sociable with Mister Bragg. Don't want to miss that. That'll be the he-fight o' the war, and probably the last battle."

"Nor do I," answered Si; "but the thing won't come off till we git back. They wouldn't be sending back for the drafted men and recruits except that they want 'em to help out."

"They'll be a durned sight more in the way than help," answered Shorty. "We don't need 'em. We've handled Bragg so far very neatly, all by ourselves, and we don't need anybody to mix into our little job. The fewer we have the more credit there'll be in lickin' old Bragg and capturin' Chattanoogy."

The Orderly-Sergeant interrupted the discussion by announcing: "Here, Shorty, you're one to go with Si. The detail is made by the Colonel's orders as a compliment to the good work you boys have been doing, and which the Colonel knows about."

"I always said that the Colonel had the finest judgment as to soldiers of any man in the army," said Shorty, after taking a minute's pause to recover from the compliment.

The boys were immediately surrounded by their comrades, congratulating them, and requesting that they would take back letters and money for them. The Paymaster had recently visited the regiment, and everybody had money which he wished to send home. There were also commissions to purchase in numerable things, ranging from meerschaum pipes to fine flannel shirts.

"Look here, boys," said Shorty, good-humoredly, "we want to be obligin', but we're neither a Adams Express Company nor in the gent's furnishin' line. We've neither an iron safe to carry money nor a pedler's wagon to deliver goods. John Morgan's guerrillas may jump us on the way home, and comin' back we'll have to have packs to carry the truck in, and half of it 'll be stole before we git to the regiment."

But the comrades would not be dissuaded, and be fore Si and Shorty went to sleep they had between $5,000 and $6,000 of their comrades' money stowed in various safe places about their personages.

"Great Jehosephat, Si," murmured Shorty, when they sat together in their tent, after the last comrade had departed, leaving his "wad of greenbacks," with directions as to its disposition, "I never felt so queer and skeery in all my life. I wouldn't for the world lose a dollar of the money these boys have been earnin' as they have this. But how under heaven are we goin' to make sure of it?"

"I've thought of a way o' makin' sure of to-night," said Si. "I spoke to the Officer of the Guard, and he'll put a sentinel over us to-night, so's we kin git a little sleep. I wouldn't shet my eyes, if it wasn't for that. We'll have to let to-morrow take care of itself."

Shorty lay down and tried to go to sleep, but the responsibility weighed too heavily on his mind. Presently, Si, who, for the same reason, only slept lightly, was awakened by his partner getting up.

"What are you up to?" Si asked.

"I've bin thinkin about pickpockets," answered Shorty. "They're an awful slick lot, and I've thought of a hiding place that'll fool 'em."

He picked up his faithful Springfield, and drawing an envelope with money out of his shirt-pocket, rolled it up to fit the muzzle of his gun, and then rammed it down.

"That's Jim Meddler's $10," he said. "I'll know it, because his mother's name's on the envelope. Here goes Pete Irvin's $20. I know it because it has his wife's name on it."

He continued until he had the barrel of the gun filled, and then stopped to admire his cunning.

"Now, n.o.body but me'd ever thought o' hidin' money in a gun. That's safe, as least. All I've got to do is to stick to my gun until we git acrost the Ohio River. But I hain't got the tenth part in; where kin I put the rest? O, there's my cartridge-box and cap-box. n.o.body'll think o' lookin' there for money."

He filled both those receptacles, but still had fully half his money left on his person.

"That'll just have to take its chances with the pickpockets," said he, and returned to his bed, with his gun by his side, and his cap- and cartridge-boxes under his head.

The morning came, with their money all right, as they a.s.sured themselves by careful examination immediately after reveille.

As they fell in under Lieut. Bowersox to start, their comrades crowded around to say good-by, give additional messages for the home-folks, and directions as to their money, and what they wanted bought.

But Shorty showed that he was overpowered with a nervous dread of pickpockets. He saw a possible light-fingered thief in everyone that approached. He would let n.o.body touch him, stood off a little distance from the rest of the squad, and when any body wanted to shake hands would hold him stiffly at arm's length.

"Gittin' mighty stuck-up just because the Colonel patted you on the back a little, and give you a soft detail," sneered one of Co. Q.

"Well, you'd be stuck-up, too," answered Shorty, "if your clothes was padded and stuffed with other folks' greenbacks, and you was in the midst o' sich a talented lot o' s.n.a.t.c.hers as the 200th Injianny. Mind, I ain't makin' no allusions nor references, and I think the 200th Injianny is the honestest lot o' boys in the Army o' the c.u.mberland; but if I wanted to steal the devil's pitchfork right out o' his hand, I'd make a detail from the 200th Injianny to do the job, and I'd be sure o' gittin' the pitchfork. I'll trust you all when you're 10 feet away from me."

The others grinned and gave him a cheer.

When they went to get on board the train Shorty had to change his tactics. He got Si on his right, the Lieutenant immediately in front of them, and two trusted boys of the squad directly behind, with strict injunctions to press up close, allow n.o.body between, and keep a hawk's eye on everybody. But both Si and Shorty were breathless with apprehension till they got through the crowd and were seated in the car, and a hasty feeling of various lumps about their persons a.s.sured them that their charges were safe. They were in a pa.s.senger car, for luck. The Lieutenant sat in front, Si and Shorty next, and the two trusty boys immediately behind. They breathed a sigh of relief. As they stood their guns over against the side of the car, Si suddenly asked: "Shorty, did you draw your charge before you rammed that money in?"

Shorty jumped to his feet in a shudder of alarm, and exclaimed: "Great Jehosephat, no. I forgot all about it."

"What's that you're saying about guns?" inquired the Lieutenant, turning around. "You want to load them, and keep them handy. We're liable to strike some guerrillas along the way, and we must be ready for them."

"You fellers'll have to do the shootin'," whispered Shorty to Si. "It'll be a cold day when I bang $150 in greenbacks at any rebel that ever jumped. I'm goin' to take the cap off en my gun. The jostlin' o' the train's likely to knock it off at any time, and send a small fortune through the roof o' the car. I'd take the money out, but I'm afraid o' tearin' it all to pieces, with the train plungin' so."

He carefully half-c.o.c.ked his piece, took off the cap, rubbed the nipple to remove any stray fragments of fulminate, and then let the hammer down on a piece of wadding taken from his cap.

The long ride to Nashville over the ground on which they had been campaigning and fighting for nearly a year would have been of deepest interest to Si and Shorty, as it was to the rest, if they could have freed their minds of responsibilities long enough to watch the scenery. But they would give only a cursory glance any say: "We'll look at it as we come back."

In the crowded depot at Nashville they had an other panic, but the Provost-Guard kept a gangway clear as soon as it was discovered that they were on duty.

"You can stack your arms there, boys," said the Sergeant of the Guard, "and go right over there and get a warm supper, with plenty of coffee."

All but Shorty obeyed with alacrity, and stacked their guns with the quickness of old and hungry vet erans.

Shorty kept hold of his gun and started with the rest to the supper-room.

"Here, Injianny," called out the Sergeant, "stack your gun here with the rest."