“Shelbyville only 10 miles away.”

And it rained the fourth day rained as if there had been months of drouth, during which it had been saving up water and gathering its energies for an astonishing, overwhelming, make-up-for-lost-time effort.

“Great goodness,” said Si, as he and Shorty were again wringing their blankets out to lighten the load they would start with; “seems to me they’re tryin’ to move Lake Superior down here, and dumping the water by train-loads.”

“Old Rosey ought to set us to buildin’ arks,” grumbled Shorty.  “We’ll need ’em as bad as Noah did.”

There was an alleviation to the weather and mud in the good news that came from all parts of the long front of 75 miles, on which the 60,000 men of the Army of the Cumberland were pressing forward against their enemies in spite of the apparent league of the same with the powers of the air against them.  Away off on the extreme right Gen. Mitchel’s cavalry had driven the enemy from Triune, Eagleville, Rover, and Unionville; Gordon Granger’s and Crittenden’s infantry were sweeping forward through Salem, Christiana, and Bradyville; grand old Pap Thomas, in his usual place in the center, had swept forward with his accustomed exhibition of well-ordered, calmly-moving, resistless power, and pushed the enemy out of his frowning strongholds at Hoover’s Gap; McCook, whose advance had that splendid leader, John F. Miller, had struck success fully at Liberty Gap, and far to our left the dash ing Wilder had led his “Lightning Brigade” against the enemy’s right and turned it.  The higher officers were highly elated at the success of Gen. Rosecrans’s brilliant strategy in forcing the very formidable outer line of the enemy without a repulse any where.  Their keen satisfaction was communicated to the rank and file, and aroused an enthusiasm that was superior to the frightful weather.  Every body was eager to push forward and bring Bragg to decisive battle, no matter how strong his laboriously-constructed works were.

“Old Rosey may be a little slow to start,” Shorty held forth oracularly to the group crouching over the fire, “but when he does start, great Scott, but he’s a goer.  I’ll put every cent I may have for the next 10 years on him, even though he’s handicapped by a Noah’s deluge for 40 days and 40 nights.  And when it comes to playin’ big checkers, with a whole State for a board, and brigades and divisions for men, he kin skunk old Bragg every time, without half tryin’.  He’s busted his front row all to pieces, and is now goin’ for his king-row.  We’ll have Bragg before Grant gits Pemberton, and then switch around, take Lee in the rear, capture Richmond, end the war, and march up Pennsylvania Avenue before Old Abe, with the scalps o’ the whole Southern Confederacy hangin’ at our belts.”

“Wish to Heaven,” sighed Si, “Old Rosey’d thought to bring along a lot of Ohio River coal scows and Wabash canal-boats to make our campaign in.  What fun it’d be jest to float down to Shelbyville and fight those fellers with 100 rough-and-ready gunboats.  Then, I’d like awfully to know once more what it feels like to have dry feet.  Seems to me my feet are swelling out like the bottom of a swamp-oak.”

“Hope not, Si,” said Shorty.  “If they git any bigger there won’t be room enough for anybody else on the same road, and you’ll have to march in the rear o’ the regiment.  Tires me nearly to death now to walk around ’em.”

“There goes the bugle.  Fall in, Co.  Q,” shouted the Orderly-Sergeant.

As the 200th Ind. had the advance, and could leave the bothersome problems of getting the wagons across the creeks to the unlucky regiment in the rear, the men stepped off blithely through the swishing showers, eager to find the enemy and emulate the achievements on previous days by their comrades on other parts of the line.

Being as wet as they could be, they did not waste any time about crossing streams.  The field officers spread out and rode squarely at the most promising crossings in sight.  The men watched their progress, and took the best they found.  If the water did not get above the middle of the sides of the Colonel’s medium-sized horse, they took off their haversacks and unbuckled their cartridge-boxes, and plunged in after him, the shorter men pairing off with the taller men, and clinging to them.

So eager was their advance that by the time they halted at noon for a rest and a cup of coffee, they were miles ahead of the rest of the brigade, and beginning to look forward to catching glimpses of Shelbyville.

They had encountered no opposition except long-taw shots from rebel cavalry watching them from the opposite sides of the yellow floods, and who would scurry away as soon as they began to cross.

The young Aid again appeared upon the scene.

“Colonel,” he said, saluting, “the General presents his compliments, and directs that you advance to that next creek, and halt there for the night and observe it.”

“What did that young man remark?” said Shorty in an undertone; “that we wuz to advance to that crick and observe it?  What in the thunder have we bin doin’ for the past four days but observe cricks, an’ cross the nasty, wet things?”

“He means, Shorty,” said Capt.  McGillicuddy, “that we are to go as near as we can to the bank, and watch, that the rebels do not come across, and wait there until the rest of the division get in supporting distance.”

“I guessed that was what his West Point lingo meant, if he has brains enough to mean anything.  Why didn’t he say in plain United States:  ’Git down to the edge o’ that there crick, watch for a chance to jump the rebels, and keep your eye peeled that the rebels don’t jump you?’ That’d be plain Methodist-Episcopal, that everybody could under stand.”.

“I’ll see that you are appointed Professor of Military Language and Orders at West Point when you are discharged,” said the Captain, laughing.

The regiment advanced to the edge of the swollen flood and made themselves as comfortable as possible under shelters improvised from rails, cedar boughs, pieces of driftwood, etc.  A considerable force of rebels appeared on the opposite bank, whose business seemed to be to “observe” the Yankees.

The restless Si and Shorty started out on a private reconnoissance.  They discovered that the shore opposite the left of the regiment was really an island, separated by some hundreds of yards of rushing water from them, but the main current ran on the other side of the island.

“We can’t observe the crick through that mass o’ willers and cottonwoods,” said Shorty.  “That’s certain.  No tellin’ what devilment the rebels are up to on the bank over there.  They may be gittin’ up a flank movement over there, with pontoons and flatboats, to bust the whole army wide open.”

“That’s so,” assented Si.  “The orders are to observe this crick, and we can’t do it if we can’t see the other bank.  We ought to git over to that island.”

They went back and reported to Capt.  McGillicuddy, and told him what they thought.  He at once agreed with them, and sanctioned their proposal to go over to the island, if they could find means of crossing.

After a diligent search they came across an old canoe hollowed out of a tulip-tree log.  It was a cranky affair, and likely to turn over if their hair was not parted exactly in the middle; but both of the boys were used to canoe management, and they decided to risk the thing.

It was ticklish business crossing the current, but they succeeded in reaching the island, which extended a foot or more above the level of the flood, and was covered with a thicket of willows and cottonwoods about the size of hoe-handles.  They pushed their way through these and came in sight of the opposite banks.  There was apparently some thing important going on over there.  Quite a number of rebels could be seen moving about through the rain and mud, there was great deal of chopping going on, several flatboats, canoes and rafts were lying at the bank, wagons were passing, and the boys thought they could make out a cannon or two.

“I can’t make out what in the world they’re up to,” said Si.  “But I’m certain the Colonel ought to know it.  Suppose you take the canoe, Shorty, and paddle over and report, and I’ll stay here and watch.”

“All right,” answered Shorty, starting back for the canoe.

He reported to Capt.  McGillicuddy, who took him up to the Colonel.

“It don’t seem possible that they can be doing anything to threaten us,” said the Colonel; “though they may know of some practicable crossing higher up the stream, which will let them in on our flank.  Still, they ought to be watched.  I’ll inform the General at once.  You had better station a picket on the island, Captain, if you can do so safely.”

“Me and my pardner ’ll look out for them, Colonel, if you think necessary,” said Shorty, proud to be of service under the Colonel’s direction.

“Very good,” said the Colonel briefly.  “I’ll entrust the lookout to you boys.  Let me know at once if anything important develops.”

The young Aid had been standing nigh during this conversation.

“Your men, Colonel,” he said patronizingly, “are excellent soldiers, in their way, but they lack the intelligence necessary to comprehend the movements of the enemy on the opposite bank.  I think I shall go over there myself, take a personal observation, and determine precisely what the meaning of the movements may be.”

“As you like,” said the Colonel stiffly.  “As for myself, I don’t think it is necessary for me to go.  I’d trust those boys’ eyes as quick as I would my own.  They are as good soldiers as ever breathed; they are as keen as a brier, with not a particle of nonsense about them.  They are as truthful as the day.  When they tell me anything that they have seen with their own eyes I can trust it as absolutely as if I had seen it myself; and their judgment can not be beat.”

“No enlisted man can possibly see anything so well as an officer who has been educated,” said the Aid.

“That is a matter of opinion,” said the Colonel dryly.

“Anyway, I’m going over to see for myself,” said the Aid.  And he called after Shorty: 

“Here, my man, I’m going along with you.”

Shorty muttered some very warm words under his breath, but discipline asserted itself, and he answered respectfully: 

“Very good, sir.”

He halted until the Aid came alongside, and then started to walk beside him as he would have done with one of his own officers when out alone with him.

“Fall two paces behind,” commanded the Aid sternly

Shorty said to himself some very hotly-disparaging things about pretentious young snips of Regular officers.  They reached the canoe, and the Lieutenant calmly seated himself in the stern.  This was another aggravation.  If Shorty had gone out with one of his own officers, even the Colonel, he would have shown a deep interest in everything and wanted to do his share toward getting the canoe safely over.  This young fellow calmly seated himself, and threw all the responsibility and work on Shorty.

“Now, you set right in the center, there,” said Shorty, as he picked up the paddle and loosened the rope, “and keep mighty still.”

“My man,” said the Lieutenant, frowning, “when I want your advice I’ll ask it.  It is for me to give you directions, not you me.  You paddle out, now, and head straight for that island.  Paddle briskly, and get me over there as quick as possible.”

Shorty was tempted to tip the canoe over then and there, but he restrained himself, and bent his strong arms to the hard task of propelling the canoe across the strong current, avoiding the driftwood, maintaining his balance, and keeping the bow pointed toward the place where he wanted to land.

The Lieutenant had sense enough to sit very still, and as he naturally had been drilled into bolt-up-rightness, Shorty had little trouble with him until they were nearing the shore.  Then the canoe ran into a swirl which threw its bow around.  Forgetting his dignified pose, the Lieutenant made a grab for some overhanging willows.

“Let them alone, blast you; I’ll bring her around all right,” Shorty started to yell, but too late.  Before the words were out of his mouth the cranky canoe went over.  Shorty with the quickness of a cat jumped clear, caught some branches with one hand, and made a grab for the canoe with the other.  But he saw the Lieutenant go down head foremost, with fancy boots disappearing last.  He let the canoe go, to make a grab for the boots.  He missed them, but presently the Lieutenant’s head appeared, and he gasped and sputtered: 

“Save me, my good man.  I can’t swim a stroke.”

Shorty plunged out, succeeded in catching the Lieutenant by the collar, and after a vicious struggle with the current, grabbed with his right hand a pole that Si thrust out to him, while with his left he dragged the Lieutenant ashore, “wetter’n a blamed drowned West Point muskrat,” as he after ward expressed it.

“My good man, you saved my life, and I thank you for it,” said the Lieutenant when he recovered his breath.  “I shall mention you in my report.”

“If you don’t stop calling me your ‘good man’ I’ll chuck you into the drink again, you wasp-waisted, stiff-backed, half-baked West Point brevet Second Lieutenant,” said Shorty wrathfully.  “If you’d had the sense of a six-months’-old goslin’ you’d ‘a’ set still, as I told you, and let me manage that canoe.  But you never kin learn a West Pointer nothin’.  He’d try to give God Almighty points if he got a chance.  Now we’ve lost our canoe, and we’re in a devil of a fix.  I feel like throwin’ you back in the crick.”

“Take care, my good” and then the Lieutenant caught the glare of Shorty’s eye.  “Take care, sir.  You’re on the verge of mutiny.  I may have you court-martialed and shot, if you’re not careful.”

“Court-martial and be blamed,” said Si, who was as angry as Shorty.  “You’ve lost our canoe, and we may be drowned before we can git off this island.  It’s got so dark they can’t see us from the shore, the water’s steadily rising, these trees are too small to climb, and the Lord knows how we’re goin’ to git off.”

“Corporal, I’ll see that you’re reduced to the ranks for disrespect to me.  I had intended to recommend this man for promotion on account of his great service to the army in saving my life.  Now I shall see that you are both punished for insubordination.”

“Insubordination be damned, and you with it,” said Shorty.  “You’d better be thinking how we’re to git off this island.  The water’s bin raisin’ about a foot a minute.  I’ve bin watchin’ while we wuz talkin’.”

The Lieutenant stood, dazed, while the boys were canvassing plans for saving themselves.

“I’ll tell you, Shorty,” said Si suddenly.  “Le’s ketch one o’ them big saw-logs that’s comin’ down, straddle it, and let it carry us somewhere.  It may take us into our own lines.  Anything’s better than drowndin’.  Here comes one in the eddy now.”

Shorty caught the log with a long pole, and dexterously steered it up close to the shore in comparatively still water.  Si threw a grapevine over it and held it.

“Now, all git on,” said Shorty.  “Be careful not to push it away.”

“Let me get on ahead,” said the Lieutenant, still mindful of his rank, “and you two get on behind, the Corporal next to me.”

“Not much, Mary Ann,” jeered Shorty.  “We want a man of sense ahead, to steer.  I’ll git on first, then you, and then Si, to bring up the rear and manage the hind end of the log.”

The Lieutenant had to comply.  They all got safely on, and Shorty pushed off, saying: 

“Here, sit straight, both of you.  Here goes mebbe for New Orleans, mebbe for Libby Prison, mebbe for the camp of the 200th Ind.

“We’re out on the ocean sailin’.”