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.”