by John McElroy
CHAPTER XV. OFF FOR THE FRONT
SI AND SHORTY TAKE CHARGE OF A SQUAD OF RECRUITS.
WHEN the boys came to breakfast the next morning, they found Maria withthe hollyhock effulgence of garb of the day before changed to the usualprim simplicity of her housedress. This meant admiration striking Shortystill dumber. He was in that state of mind when every change in theyoung woman's appearance seemed a marvelous transformation and made hermore captivating than before. He had thought her queenly dazzling in herhighly-colored "go-to-meeting" plumage of the day before. She was nowsimply overpowering in her plain, close-fitting calico, that outlinedher superb bust and curves, with her hair combed smoothly back from herbright, animated face. Shorty devoured her with his eyes--that is, whenshe was not looking in his direction. He would rather watch her than eathis breakfast, but when her glance turned toward him he would drop hiseyes to his plate. This became plain to everybody, even Maria, but didnot prevent her beginning to tease.
"What's the matter with you? Where's your appetite?" asked she. "You'reclean off your feed. You must be in love. Nothin' else'd make a man goback on these slapjacks that Cousin Marthy made with her own hands, andshe kin beat the County on slapjacks. Mebbe you're thinkin' o' your BadAx girl and her widower. Perk up. He may fall offen a saw-log and gitdrowned, and you git her yit. Never kin tell. Life's mighty uncertain,especially around saw-mills. When I marry a man he's got to give bondsnot to have anything to do, in no way or shape, with saw-mills. I don'twant to be a widder, or take care o' half a man for the rest o' my days.You've got a chance to git your girl yit. Mebbe she'll git tired o' himafter he's bin run through the mill two or three times, and there's moreo' him in the graveyard than there is walkin' to church with her. Cheerup."
Shorty tried to disprove the charge as to the subject of his thoughtsby falling to furiously and with such precipitation that he spilt hiscoffee, upset the molasses-jug, and then collapsed in dismay at hisclumsiness.
Maria did not go free herself. The other girls had not been blind toShorty's condition of mind, and rather suspected that Maria was notwholly indifferent to him. When she came into the kitchen for anothersupply. Cousin Susie, younger sister of Martha, remarked:
"Maria, I've a notion to take your advice, and set my cap for CorprilShorty. Do you know, I think he's very good lookin'. He's a little roughand clumsy, but a girl could take that out o' him. I believe I'll beginright away. You stay in here and bake and I'll wait on the table."
"Don't be a little goose, Susie," said Maria severely. "You're too youngyit to think about beaux. You hain't got used to long dresses yit. Yougo practice on boys in roundabouts awhile. This is a full-grown man anda soldier. He hain't got no time to waste on schoolgirls."
"Ha, how you talk, Miss Jealousy," responded Susie. "How scared you arelest I cut you out. I've a great mind to do it, just to show you I kin.I'd like awfully to have a sweetheart down at the front, just to crowover the rest o' the girls. Here, you take the turner and let me carrythat plate in."
"I'll do nothin' o' the kind," said Maria, decisively. "You look outfor your cakes there. They're burnin' while you're gossipin'. That'smy brother and his friend, and I hain't got but a short time to be with'em. I may never see 'em agin, and I want to do all I kin for 'em whilethey're with me."
"Too bad about your brother," laughed Susie. "How lovin' and attentiveall at once. I remember how you used to wig him without mercy at school,and try to make him go off and take me home, instid o' taggin' alongafter you, when that big-eyed school teacher that sung tenor'd be makin'sheep's eyes at you in school, and wantin' to walk home with you in theevenin'. I remember your slappin' Si for tellin' the folks at home aboutthe teacher and you takin' long walks at noon out to the honeysucklepatch. I've a great mind to go in and tell it all to Si right beforethat feller. Then your cake'll all be dough. Don't git too uppish withme, young lady. Gi' me that plate and let me take it in."
The cakes on the griddles burned while Maria watched through the doorwhat she mentally described as the "arts and manuvers o' that sassylittle piece." She was gratified to see that Shorty's eyes kept glancingat the door for her own reappearance. She carried in the next plate ofcakes herself, and though they were a little scorched, Shorty ate themwith more zest than any of their predecessors.
Si announced, as he shoved back from the table:
"Well, we've got to go right off. We must ketch that accommodation andgit back to Bean Blossom Crick. I want to say good-by to the folks,and then strike out for Jeffersonville. I've reported that I'm ablefor dooty agin, and there's orders at home for me and Shorty to go toJeffersonville and git a gang o' recruits that's bin gethered there, andbring 'em to the rijimint."
Shorty had been in hopes that Si would dally for a day or so in thesepleasant pastures, but then he reflected that where Annabel was waslikely to be much more attractive to Si than where she was not.
"No need o' my goin' back with you," he ventured to suggest, speakingfor the first time. "I might take the train goin' East, and git thingsin shape at Jeffersonville by the time you come."
Then his face grew hot with the thought that everyone saw through histransparent scheme to get an hour or two more with Maria.
"No," said Si, decisively. "You'll go back with me. Father and motherand 'Mandy are all anxious to see you, and they'll never forgive me if Idon't bring you back with me. Le's start."
If, at parting. Shorty had mustered up courage enough to look Mariasquarely in the eyes, he might have read something there to encouragehim, but no deeply-smitten man ever can do this. There is where the"light o' loves" have the great advantage. He could only grip her handconvulsively for an instant, and then turn and follow Si.
At the Deacon's home Shorty found the same quiet, warm welcome, with toomuch tact on the part of anyone except little Sammy Woggles to make anycomment on the circumstances of his disappearance. Sammy was clearly ofthe opinion that Si had run down Shorty and brought him back, and thishad the beneficial effect of dampening Sammy's runaway schemes. He wasalso incensed at Shorty's perfidy in not sending him the rebel gun, andthought that his being brought back was righteous retribution.
"Served you right, you black-hearted promise-breaker," he hissed atShorty when they found themselves momentarily alone. "I writ you thatletter, and it nearly killed me--brung me down with the measles, and younever sent me that gun. But I'll foller yer trail till you do."
"Don't be a little fool, Sammy. You stay right here. You've got the besthome in the world here. If you do I'll send you your gun inside of amonth, with some real rebel catridges and a bayonet that's killed aman, and a catridge-box with a belt that you kin carry your ammunitionin--that is, if you'll write me another letter, all about Maria."
"I won't write you a word about Maria," said the youth, seeing hisadvantage, "onless you promise to send me a whole lot o' catridges--ahatful. Powder and lead costs a heap o' money. And so do caps."
I'LL SEND YOU A CATRIDGE AND CAP FOR EVERY WORD YOU WRITEABOUT MARIA. 213]
"You shall have 'em. I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll send you acatridge and cap for every word you write about Maria."
"It's a go," said the delighted boy. "I'm goin' to learn someway towrite without bitin' my tongue, an' I'll write you as many words everyday as I want catridges to shoot off, so that I'll have enough forthe next Fourth o' July, and kill all old Pete Walker's snappin' dogsbesides."
The boys were to leave on the midnight train. The bigger part of Si'sleave-taking seemed to be outside of his family, for he quit the houseimmediately after supper and did not leave Annabel's side until he hadjust barely time to get back home, take leave of his weeping mother andhelp store in the spring wagon more than he and Shorty could carry ofthe good things she had provided for them.
"What's this?" said Si to Shorty the next day at Jeffersonville, whenthey had reported to the Provost-Marshal, and had mustered before themthe squad of recruits that they were to conduct to their regiment. "Havethey bin roundin' up some country schoo
l-houses, and enlisted all theboys that was in the fourth reader and Ray's arithmetic?"
"Seems like it," said Shorty, looking down the line of bright,beardless, callow faces. "Some o' them don't look as if they'd got asfur as the fourth reader. Ain't old enough to spell words o' more thantwo syllables. What do they want with so many drummer-boys?"
"We aint no drummer-boys," said a bright-faced five-footer, who overheadthe question. "Nary drum for us. We haint got no ear for music. We'reregular soldiers, we are, and don't you forget it."
"But you ain't nigh 18," said Si, looking him over, pleased with theboy's spirit.
"You bet I'm over 18," answered the boy. "I told the Mustering OfficerI was, and stuck to it in spite of him. There, you can see for yourselfthat I am," and he turned up his foot so as to show a large 18 marked onthe sole of his shoe. "There, if that don't make me over 18, I'd like toknow what does," he added triumphantly, to the chorus of laughter fromhis companions.
In the entire squad of 65 there were not more than half a dozen beardedmen. The rest were boys, all clearly under their majority, and manyseeming not over 15. There were tall, lathy boys, with tallowy faces;there were short, stocky boys, with big legs and arms and fat faces asred as ripe apples, and there were boys neither very fat nor very lean,but active and sprightly as cats. They were in the majority. Long andshort, fat and lean, they were all bubbling over with animal spirits andactivity, and eager to get where they could see "real war."
"Say, mister," said the irrepressible five-footer, who had first spokento Si; "we've bin awful anxious for you to come and take us to ourregiment. We want to begin to be real soldiers."
"Well, my boy," said Si, with as much paternalism as if he had been agrandfather, "you must begin right now, by actin' like a real soldier.First, you mustn't call me mister. Mustn't call nobody mister in thearmy. My name's Sergeant Klegg. This other man is Corporal Elliott, Youmust always call us by those names, When you speak to either of us youmust take the position of a soldier--stand up straight, put your heelstogether, turn your toes out, and salute, this way."
"Is this right?" asked the boy, carefully imitating Si.
"Yes, that's purty near right--very good for first attempt. Now, when Ispeak to you, you salute and answer me. What is your name?"
"Henry Joslyn, sir."
"Well, Henry, you are now Private Joslyn, of the 200th InjiannyVolunteer Infantry. I can't tell what company you'll belong to till wegit to the rigimint, but I'll try to have you in Co. Q, my company."
"But when are we going to get our guns and knapsacks and things, andstart for the regiment?" persisted the eager boy, and the others joinedin the impatient inquiry.
"You won't git your guns and accourterments till you git to therigimint. As soon's I kin go over this roll and identify each one o'you, I'll see what the orders is for starting."
"There goes some men for the ferry now. Why can't we go with them?"persisted the boy.
"Private Joslyn," said Si, with some official sternness, "the firstthing a soldier's got to learn is to keep quiet and wait for orders. Youunderstand?"
"'Pears to me that there's a lot o' first things to learn," grumbled theboy to the others, "and it's nothin' but wait, wait forever. The army'llgo off and leave us if we don't get down there purty soon."
"Don't worry, my boy, about the army goin' off and leavin' you," saidShorty in a kindly way. "It'll wait. It kin be depended on for that.Besides, it's got to wait for me and Sargint Klegg."
"That's so. Didn't think o' that," chorused the boys, to whose eyes thetwo veterans seemed as important as Gens. Grant or Thomas.
"That's purty light material for serious bizniss, I'm afeared," saidShorty to Si, as they stood a little apart for a moment and surveyed thecoltish boys, frisking around in their new blouses and pantaloons, whichfitted about like the traditional shirt on a bean-pole.
"I think they're just splendid," said Si, enthusiastically. "They'llfill in the holes o' the old rigimint in great shape. They're as toughas little wildcats; they'll obey orders and go wherever you send 'em,and four out o' every five o' them kin knock over a crow at a hundredyards with a squirrel rifle. But, Shorty," he added with a suddenassumption of paternal dignity, "me and you's got to be fathers to them.We've got a great responsibility for them. We must do the very best wekin by 'em."
"That's so," said Shorty, catching at once the fatherly feeling. "I'llpunch the head off en the first sneezer that I ketch tryin' to impose on'em."