Many Northern people came to visit their friends in Grant's army. They brought with them turkeys and chickens and ducks as gifts to the Boys in Blue, but for once the soldiers did not appreciate these delicacies.

While they were maneuvering and fighting to get into their present position on the hills in the rear of Vicksburg, Grant had boldly cut loose from his base of supplies. Foraging parties had scoured the plantations for anything they could find, and the army had largely existed on poultry.

"Give us bacon and bread!" was now the cry. "We are sick of anything that crows or quacks or gobbles; we are sick of all meat with wings.

Give us bacon and bread!"

Once while Grant was riding along the lines, a soldier recognizing him called in a low voice, "Hardtack." In a moment the cry ran along the whole line, "Hardtack! Hardtack!" Grant a.s.sured the men that a road had been built for the distribution of regular commissary supplies such as bread, hardtack, coffee, sugar, bacon, and salt meat. The men at once gave a ringing cheer, and on the next day full rations were issued to the whole army.

The four travelers from the North had plenty of opportunity to watch the operations of a great siege, and Barker met several men whom he had known in Indiana and Minnesota.

There was little fighting now, but much digging of pits and trenches and some mining and counter-mining.

"We are just camping here," an old acquaintance told Barker, "and the digging is good. No rocks in these hills as in the hills of New England and New York.

"If the Johnnies weren't camping so blasted close to us, it would be a fine life. As it is, the man who shows his head above the parapets is done for. The sharpshooters get him.

"I just got through digging and sitting in a pit twenty-four hours.

"Three men from our company were detailed to dig an advance rifle-pit.

We started after dark with picks and shovels. Two men with picks scratched up the dirt, the third man threw it out. We made no noise; a mole couldn't have worked more silently. Heavens, how we scratched and dug! By daylight, our pit was deep enough to shelter us. It had to be or we wouldn't have come back. But it was not deep enough for us to stand up. All day we sat and lay in that hole. At noon the sun almost roasted us brown, although we crouched against the shaded wall.

"In the afternoon it began to rain and some of our dirt washed back into the pit.

"'Mike,' I said to my Irish fellow-digger, 'I guess we'll have to swim or surrender.'

"'By me faith,' Mike replied, 'I'll wait till the water runs over me gun-muzzle. We can't surrender because our shirts are too dirty for white flags.'

"We agreed that Mike was right, and sitting in the sticky mud, we ate the rest of our bread and bacon before the rain could spoil it.

"After the rain was over, some sharpshooters began to practice on our pit. They couldn't hit us, and we were right glad that they gave us something to think and talk about.

"After dark three other men relieved us and we had a chance to stretch our bones."

"What did these men have to do?" the boys wanted to know.

"Deepen the pit," the soldier told them, "and widen it to right and left in the direction of two other rifle-pits. You see in that way we push our lines closer and closer to the enemy.

"In many places we are so close now that the men can talk to each other."

Quite often the Union soldiers who were short of tobacco would barter bacon or bread for tobacco, because the Confederates at this time were beginning to feel the shortage of food.

All through the Civil War the men in both armies showed a fine spirit of chivalry to the enemy, whenever duty and the stern law of war would permit acts of courtesy and kindness.

At one time in the Vicksburg siege a dead mule between the lines became unbearably offensive to the Confederates.

"Heh, Yanks!" a soldier shouted, "we've got to bury that mule. He's smelling us out."

"All right," the Yankee boys replied. "We smelled him yesterday. Send out three men, and we'll send three. Say, Johnnies, better stick up a white rag, when you're coming out, so our boys don't make a mistake!"

The mule was covered with dirt. The The soldiers exchanged various little articles and swapped some yarns and jokes.

"Yanks, when are you coming to town?" the Southerners asked.

"We'll be there on the Fourth. By that time your grub will be gone."

"Like thunder you will," the Boys in Grey returned the banter. "Why, men, we've got enough grub to last till winter. If you Yanks stick around long enough, we'll invite you to a Christmas pudding."

"Many thanks," the Northerners came back; "you can't fool us on mule-meat and river-soup. We'll bring our own rations when we come in."

A moment later the men had returned to their lines.

"Look out for your heads," the call rang out. "We're going to shoot."

The men who had just enjoyed a friendly visit, were again facing each other in the life-and-death struggle for the control of the Mississippi.

Tatanka and the boys were just having the time of their lives with all the new and exciting things they heard and saw. Barker was as much interested, but he kept his eyes open for the one enemy he must either elude or defeat. He felt sure that if Hicks were still alive he was not far from Haynes Bluff and the Union lines.

CHAPTER XXI-WHEREIN OLD ENEMIES MEET

Barker, through the influence of Captain Banks, had found quarters for his party in a vacant corner of an old warehouse. Other rooms were not procurable and in these secluded quarters, he felt safe from annoying and curious visitors, and from various camp-followers always found in the rear of an army.

He was most anxious to get the boys into Vicksburg and start for home with Tatanka, who had so loyally shared all the dangers and hardships of the long journey.

But how to get into Vicksburg was a puzzle. Securing a pa.s.s seemed out of the question and any other way that he could think of looked either impossible or extremely dangerous, because sentinels and patrols of both Grant's and Pemberton's armies watched the river day and night.

He feared that in the confusion and excitement of surrender, even if it did come soon, he might fail to find the parents of his boys. Between this anxiety and the possibility of again meeting Hicks, he lay awake, thinking a good part of the night.

The next forenoon the four men from the North accompanied a train of wagons with rations and ammunitions for the soldiers east of Vicksburg.

The boys were again in high spirits. They felt sure that they would soon be at home, and there were so many new things to be seen that they had no time to feel sad. The horrors of war were but little visible, because there had been no active fighting for a month.

Barker, however, walked along in thoughtful silence.

"I must get the lads into town and I must kill or capture Hicks, if we set eyes on him again," were the thoughts ever in his mind.

About the middle of the forenoon the long line of wagons halted on account of some obstruction ahead. Barker was chatting pleasantly with a number of teamsters, "mule-skinners," as the soldiers called them. He had told them that he wanted to get the lads into Vicksburg and he had told them about the man, who for some reason, was bound to keep the boys in the North even at the risk of having them killed by the Sioux. The men became much interested, for even the roughest of men are quickly stirred in their sympathy by injustice and cowardly crime.

Three hors.e.m.e.n came slowly along the side of the road. They stopped as they reached the group of teamsters.

The foremost of them dismounted, walked slowly up to Barker, reached out his hand and said with suppressed excitement: "h.e.l.lo, Barker, I'm glad to see you."

"h.e.l.lo, Hicks," replied the trapper, returning the salute without offering his hand. "I can't say that I'm glad to see you."

"Where are the boys?" asked Hicks.

"My boys are back a way," Barker spoke firmly, the color rising in his cheeks and his gray eyes flashing, "and you and yours aren't going to touch them."