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"Certainly," responded Josiah, "I wouldn't think of going away without 'em."

"Je-ru-sa-lem!" exclaimed Si after he had made two or three attempts equally barren of results.

"Ye'll have to come to it. Si. All the soljers does, from the Major-Gin'rals down to the tail-end of the mule-whackers. Ye mind them 'Sconsin chaps we was lookin' at a little bit ago?"

Breakfast was soon over, and in the gray dawn of that murky morning the long column went trailing on its way. The weather gave promise of a sloppy day, and the indications were fully verified. A drizzling rain set in, and continued without cessation. The boys put their heads through the holes in their ponchos, from the corners of which the water streamed. With their muskets at a "secure" they sloshed along through the mud, hour after hour. In spite of their "gums" the water found its way in at the back of the neck and trickled down their bodies. Their clothes became saturated, and they were altogether about as miserable as it is possible for mortals to be.

If Si's gun had been loaded he would have shot somebody, regardless of consequences. Thinking of his bayonet, he jerked it quickly from its scabbard.

Si had completely lost control of himself in his overpowering rage. With blood in his eye, he came to, a charge, glancing fiercely from one side of the road to the other, uncertain where to begin the assault.

All night Si dreamed about awful scenes of slaughter. Before morning he had destroyed a large part of the Confederate army.

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