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      The rebel emptied the cup into a little bag, carefully scrutinizing the stream as it ran in. It was all fine, fragrant, roasted and ground coffee.146"Mr. Riever wants to say good-by to you."

      "A feller sure does git tired of doin' nothin'.""Not a bad idee," said the Deacon approvingly, as he poked the ashes in his pipe with his little finger.

      "Don't shoot, Mister. We'uns give up. We'uns air taylored.""May I bring Shortyhe's my pard'long with me?" he timidly asked.

      They trudged back to camp, taking turns riding the horse. When the rebel rode, however, one of the boys walked alongside with the bridle in his hand. All doubts as to Bolivar's story were dispelled by his instant recognition by the Provost-Marshal, who happened to be at the picket-post when they reached camp.

      Si, with Indiana commonsense, saw that the only help was to push the wagon back and lay a pile of poles to make a gradual ascent. He and the rest laid their carefully polished muskets on dry leaves at the side, pulled off their white gloves, and sending two men to hunt thru the wagons for axes to cut the poles. Si and Shorty roused up the stupid teamsters to unhitch the mules and get them behind the wagon to pull it back. Alas for their carefully brushed pantaloons and well-blackened shoes, which did not last a minute in the splashing mud.

      Eagerly seizing them, Si tossed one into his mouth and began to chew it with great vigor. The persimmon got in its work at once. It took hold with a mighty grip, wrinkling him up like the skins on scalded milk.The General looked up and saw Corporal Si Klegg and Shorty standing at a "salute."


      "Si," said his father, with a quizzical smile, "I've bin wonderin', ever since I heard that you wuz an officer, how much o' the army you commanded. Now I see that if it wuz turned upside down you'd be on the very top."


      "What is there?" asked Delehanty."Certainly," responded Josiah, "I wouldn't think of going away without 'em."