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Si Klegg managed to keep up tolerably near the head of the column until camp was reached, but his shoulders were strained and blisters began to appear on his feet.

And so during those days and nights the old lady and the girls cooked and cooked, and Si ate and ate, until it seemed as if he wouldn't want any more till the war was over.

"What in the name of General Jackson are you doing, you measly idiot! Who ordered you to load and fire your piece?"

"Silence!"' thundered the Sergeant. "If you speak another word I'll have ye gagged 'n' tied up by the thumbs!"

"Right—Face!"

"Skirmishin'!" exclaimed Si, opening his eyes very wide. "I haint seen any signs o' rebs 'round here, 'n' there aint any shootin' goin' on, 'nless I've lost my hearin'. Durned if 't aint the funniest skirmishin' I ever hearn tell of!"

Si found him after a short search, and proposed to get a chip, carry him to the fire and throw him in.

"No, not yet; but I was thinkin' I'd tell 'em 'bout it one o' these days."

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