A pouring rain came up while the four friends were at the quarters of the officer. A torrent of muddy water broke through the roof, a big lump of wet dirt fell on the bed, and mud and water covered the floor. The four guests fell to and piled bed, chairs, and table in the dryest corner and protected the clothes and blankets of their host as well as they could, but the place looked as if it could never be made fit to use again. But when Captain Dent arrived, he just laughed at the whole mess, as he called it.

"It's just one of the little accidents of war," he added. "My man, Harris, will put this cabin in good shape before dark. This is nothing at all. Just think of our starving boys in the rifle-pits. They often have to stand and lie in the mud all day.

"If you gentlemen will lend me a hand, we'll deepen the trench around this mansion and stop the leak in the roof.

"You must all stay for supper," the captain insisted, when the work was done. "I have invited three young officers. You'll enjoy the company, and if you Northerners are not too particular, you can have plenty to eat."

Harris, the colored man, began cooking, while Captain Dent showed his visitors around and told them of many interesting incidents connected with the siege.

Then the guests came and Harris announced supper.

"Captain," one of the young men asked, "what's this savory dish your man is serving us?"

"That," the captain a.s.serted, without changing a muscle on his weather-browned face, "that's moose-tongue; moose-tongue from Minnesota.

My friend here brought it down."

"Tied him behind your boat, I suppose?" queried the second guest.

"Oh, no; not at all," Barker promptly entered into the spirit of the company. "We used him as motive power. He pulled us clear into town."

The third guest and the boys looked a little puzzled.

"You see," the trapper quickly explained, "he was a Chippewa moose and dreadfully scared of a Sioux. My friend, Tatanka, here, is a Sioux. Had an awful time getting the beast to stop for camp. Was bound to keep going as long as Tatanka was sitting behind him."

A ringing laugh went around the table.

"Sir Barker," the captain took up the conversation, "how many tongues did he have?"

"Well, sir," the trapper drawled out, "from the noise he could make, I should say about six, sir. He was sure a wonderful beast. We were going to exhibit him in town, but the Quartermaster General took such a liking to him that we had to give him up."

Again a peal of laughter went around the table.

"Harris," said the third guest, "you've garnished that moose-tongue with green asparagus. Looks almighty appetizing. Where did you get it?"

"Wai, ma.s.sa, I tell you. I cut it myself in de cane-brake in de nex'

ravine. De Good Lord hab started a 'sparagus plantation dere, sure 'nuf," and a broad smile spread over Harris's face like sunshine. He had really done his best to prepare a feast for his master and now he was happy because his master was pleased.

"Gentlemen, fall to," the captain urged. "We have here the very best dinner Vicksburg has to offer. The Planters Hotel could not beat it, if President Davis himself was the guest of the city."

By this time the boys had recovered from their embarra.s.sment because they saw the men all acting like happy boys. They had never suspected that their fatherly friend, Barker, was so much of a boy, who could laugh and cut up.

They fell to as heartily as all the older boys, although the scene of Old Harmony's team of six rolling down the bluff at Fort Ridgely flashed through their minds.

"It tastes just like beef-tongue," Tim remarked to Bill.

For the present, both host and guests forgot the dangers, the sufferings and the horrors of war. They were all just boys at dinner.

When the company one after the other, began to sniff at the odor of coffee, Captain Dent called aloud for Harris.

"Look here, you black rascal," he accosted the surprised cook, "what are you making that smell of coffee with? There hasn't been any coffee in town for a week."

"Ma.s.sa, dat coffee smell is sure no ghost. Dat hunter geman from de North gib it to me and some sugar, too."

"Where did you get it?" the officers asked with one voice.

"Trapped it, just trapped it. I caught the coffee, and Tatanka crawled up on the sugar."

A loud boyish laugh rang around the table.

"Three cheers for Barker and Tatanka. May they hunt long and prosper,"

the oldest officer proposed, and Bill and Tim joined heartily in the cheers.

"Mr. Barker," cried the captain, "you and Tatanka paddle your iron-clad up the river and crawl up on some more coffee and sugar."

How much little gifts of luxuries brighten the life of soldiers in the field can perhaps only be appreciated by those who have for weeks or months been reduced to the barest necessities of life.

After dinner, both host and guests opened their treasure-troves of stories, serious and comic. Then the young officers formed an impromptu trio and many songs, sprung up during the great siege, rang through the warm summer night, new words set to old tunes.

"'Twas at the siege of Vicksburg, Of Vicksburg, of Vicksburg.

'Twas at the siege of Vicksburg, When the Parrott sh.e.l.ls were whistling through the air.

Listen to the Parrott sh.e.l.ls, Listen to the Parrott sh.e.l.ls, The Parrott sh.e.l.ls are whistling through the air."

Shortly after ten the young officers bade farewell to their host and friends, for at eleven they, as well as Captain Dent, went on duty with their men, behind the parapets and at the batteries.

For a few brief hours they had forgotten sorrow and hunger and the oppressive gloom of probable surrender, which like a hideous specter seemed to come creeping a little closer every day.

They might attempt to cut their way out, but the loss of life would be enormous and the sacrifice would most likely be utterly useless.

Barker and Tatanka with the boys returned to town on a dark winding road.

Down the river they could again see the mortar sh.e.l.ls draw their fiery curves and after the rise and fall of the fire trail, as Tatanka called it, came the deep booming of the explosion.

Like the officers, they also were thrown back into besieged and bombarded Vicksburg, after a few happy hours of jovial company.

"We should sleep in the woods to-night and not go back to town," Tatanka suggested.

"White men can't sleep in the woods without blankets," the trapper replied. "We'll go back to our caves. If we didn't, the father and mother of the boys would be worried."

"I think," Tatanka pointed out, after he had watched a sh.e.l.l drop, "some day a big fire-ball will shoot through the roof of our cave and kill us all. We should live in the woods."

"My friend, we can't live in the woods." Barker tried to instruct and calm his fears. "Shrapnel and rifle fire from the Union lines sweep the woods everywhere. We would have to dig a cave there.

"If the mortars or Parrott guns begin to drop sh.e.l.ls near us, we will move to another place. Until they do, we are safe. Now, don't be a squaw, Tatanka. Chippewas and hostile Sioux have fired at you many times. Those big sh.e.l.ls hardly ever hit anybody; all they do is to bury and bust themselves in the clay."

"All the same," the Indian persisted, "I don't like them. I can't fight them back. I wish we were home in Minnesota. I would not be afraid of fighting Chippewas or bad Sioux. Are we going back soon?"

"We can't start back until after the siege," Barker explained, somewhat impatiently.

"Couldn't we slip out at night?" Tatanka asked.