by John McElroy
CHAPTER III. A COW IN CAMP
THE DEACON HAS SOME EXPERIENCES WITH THE QUADRUPED.
IT DID not seem that so many dangers beset the possession of a cow asof a horse, yet the Deacon prudently rose while it was yet dark to lookafter the animal.
He was none too soon, for there were getting to be thousands of veryhungry men in Chattanooga who remembered the axiom about the early birdcatching the worm, and thought the best time for "snatching" somethingwas in the dark just before reveille. If they could find nothing better,and too often they did not, they would rob the mules of their scantyrations of corn, and soon a mule's feed-box had to be as carefullyguarded as the commissary tent of the Headquarters mess.
These morning prowlers were as cunning as rats in finding their prey,and the only security that a man had of keeping his rations till morningwas to eat them up before he went to bed. Their sharp eyes had notfailed to notice the signs of unusual plenty about the Deacon'scorn-crib, and they gave it earnest attention.
The Deacon had slipped out very quietly, and taken a little turn aroundthe end of the crib, to see that his other provisions had not beendisturbed, before he approached the cow. As he did so he saw a figuresquatted beside her, and heard a low voice say:
"So, Bos! H'ist, Lady! H'ist up, you measly heifer!"
"Well, I declare to goodness," gasped the Deacon. "How could they'vefound her out so soon?"
He walked quietly up to the milker, and remarked:
"Purty early in the mornin' to do your milkin'. Didn't used to git up soearly when you was at home, did you?"
"Sh--sh--sh!" whispered the other. "Don't speak so loud. You'll wake upthat old galoot inside. Keep quiet till I fill my cup, and then I'll letyou have a chance. There'll be plenty for you."
"Purty good milker, is she?" inquired the Deacon with interest.
"Naw!" whispered the other. "She's got her bag full, but she won't givedown worth a cent."
"Better let me try my hand," said the Deacon. "You've bin away from thefarm for so long you've probably lost the knack. I'm a famous milker."
"You'll play fair?" said the milker doubtfully.
"Yes; just hold her till I go inside and git my bucket, and I'llmilk your cup clean full," answered the Deacon, starting inside thecorn-crib.
"Well, you're a cool one," gasped the milker, realizing the situation."But I'll hold you to your bargain, and I'll play fair with you."
The Deacon came back with his bucket, and after filling the man's cup asfull as it would hold, handed it to him, and then began drawing the restinto his own bucket.
Careful milker that he was, he did not stop until he had stripped thelast drop, and the cow, knowing at once that a master hand was at herudder, willingly yielded all her store.
"There," said the Deacon, "if anybody gits any more out o' her tillevenin' he's welcome to it."
Two or three other men had come up in the meanwhile with their cups, andthey started, without so much as asking, to dip their cups in.
"Hold on!" commanded the first-comer sternly. "Stop that! This old man'sa friend o' mine, and I won't see him imposed on. Go somewhere else andgit your milk."
A wordy war ensued, but the first-comer was stalwart and determined. Therow waked up Shorty, who appeared with an ax.
"All right," said one of the men, looking at the ax; "keep your durnedold milk, if you're so stingy toward hungry soldiers. It'll give youmilk-sick, anyway. There's lots o' milk-sick 'round here. All the cowshave it. That cow has it bad. I kin tell by her looks. We had lots o'milk-sick in our neighborhood, and I got real well-acquainted with it. Ikin tell a milk-sick cow as fur as I kin see her, and if that cow hasn'tit, no one ever had it."
He made a furtive attempt to kick the bucket over, which was frustratedby the Deacon's watchfulness.
"Better do something with that cow right off," advised the first-comer,as he walked off. "You can't keep her in camp all day. Somebody'll gither away from you if they have to take her by main force."
"Are you willin' to risk the milk-sick?" asked the Deacon, handingShorty a cupful of the milk, together with a piece of cornpone.
"Yum--yum, I should say so," mumbled that longlegged gentleman. "I'llmake the milk sicker'in it kin me, you bet. Jest bring along all themilk-sick you've got on hand, and I'll keep it from hurtin' anybodyelse. That's the kind of a philanthropist I am."
"I see you've got a cow here," said a large man wearing a dingy bluecoat with a Captain's faded shoulder-straps. "I'm a Commissary, and it'smy duty to take her."
He walked over and in a businesslike way began unfastening the rope.The Deacon shuddered, for he had too much respect for shoulder-strapsto think of resisting. Shorty looked up from his breakfast, scanned thenewcomer, and said:
"Look here. Bill Wiggins, you go back and take off that Captain's coatas quick as you kin, or I'll have you arrested for playin' officer. Noneo' you Maumee Muskrats kin play that little game on the 200th Injianny.We know you too well. And let me advise you, Mr. Wiggins, the next timeyou go out masqueradin' to make up clean through. That private's cap andpantaloons burned around the back, and them Government cow-hides giveyou dead away, if your mug didn't. If they wuz givin' commissions awayyou wouldn't be a brevet Corporal. Skip out, now, for here comesthe Provost-Guard, and you'd better not let him catch you wearin'an officer's coat unless you want to put in some extra time on thebreastworks."
Mr. Wiggins made off at once, but he had scarcely gotten out of sightwhen a mounted officer, attracted by the strange sight of a cow in camp,rode up and inquired whence she came and to whom she belonged.
The Deacon was inside the crib taking care of Si, and the burden of theconversation fell upon Shorty.
"Me any my pardner sent out into the country and bought that cow," hesaid, "with three $10 gold pieces we've bin savin' up ever since we'vebin in the service. We wouldn't give 'em for anything else in the world.But we wuz jest starved for a drink o' fresh milk. Never felt so hungryfor anything else in our lives. Felt that if we could jest git a fillin'o' fresh milk it'd make us well agin."
"Paid $30 in gold for her," said the officer, examining the cowcritically. "Pretty high price for that kind of a cow."
"Well, I don't know about that," answered Shorty argumentatively,and scenting a possible purchaser. "Good fresh cows are mighty scarceanywhere at this time o' year, and particularly in this region. NextSpring they'll be much cheaper. But not this, one. That's noordinary cow. If you'll look carefully at her you'll see that she's athoroughbred. I'm a boss judge o' stock myself, and I know. Look at herhorns, her bag, and her lines. She's full three-quarters Jersey."
"What's the other quarter," asked the officer, much amused.
"Jest--jest--jest--cow," answered Shorty, momentarily stumped for oncein his volubility. And then he went on more garrulously than ever, to makeamends. "She's as gentle as a lamb, will live on two ears o' corn and akind word a day, and give two gallons o' milk, nearly all cream. Me andmy pardner wouldn't take $10.0 in gold for that cow. We're goin' tosend her up home as soon as the lines are open, to start our stock-farmwith."
"Where did you say you got her?" said the officer, getting off his horseand going up closer to examine the animal.
"O, we bought her from a man named Wilson over in the Sequatchie Valley.You must've heard of him. We've knowed him a long time--before he moveddown here from Injianny. Runs a fine stockfarm. Cried like a baby whenhe parted with his cow. Wouldn't have done it, but he had to have themoney to buy provisions for his family."
"Let me see," said the officer, looking at him. "Seems to me I ought toknow you. Where do you belong?"
"Co. Q, 200th Injianny Volunteers."
"I thought so. I do know you. You are Shorty. I don't want to sayanything against your honesty or your veracity, but if Gen, Rosecranswas to order me to get him the smartest forager and smoothest liar inthe Army of the Cumberland, I think I should order you to report atHeadquarters."
"You do me proud," said Shorty with a grin, but an
inward feeling thattrouble was impending.
"Now, tell me the truth. Where did you get that cow?"
"I have bin tellin' you the truth," protested Shorty with an injuredair. "Why should I tell you a lie about a little thing like a cow?"
"You are not within a mile of the truth. I know it. Look here: I believethat is Gen. Rosecrans's own cow. She's gone, and I got an order to lookaround for her. I've never seen her, but from the description given me Ibelieve that's she. Who brought her here?"
PURTY GOOD MILKER, IS SHE? INQUIRED THE DEACON 51]
"Great Jehosephat, he's after the Deacon," thought Shorty with ashudder. "I mustn't let him git him." Then he spoke out boldly:
"I brung her here."
"Shorty," said the officer with a smile, "I admire your talents forprevarication more than I can express. As a good, off-hand, free-going,single-gaited liar you have few equals and no superiors. Your liesusually have so much probability in them that they seem better than thetruth--for your purposes. But this has no probability whatever in it.I doubt if you are able to walk to Headquarters. If you were well andstrong, I should believe you quite capable not only of stealing the cowfrom Army Headquarters, but President Lincoln's cow from his back-doorof the White House. But you are good now because you haven't strengthenough to be up to any devilment. Now, tell me, who brought that cowhere?"
"I brung her here myself, I tell you. I felt unusually peart last night.Felt that I had to snatch something jest to keep my hand in, like.Couldn't find nothin' else on four legs worth takin', and couldn'ttake nothin' that couldn't walk. So I took her. You kin send me to theguard-house if you want to. I expect I deserve it."
And Shorty tried to look contrite and penitent.
"Yes; you're in nice shape to send to the guardhouse. I'd sent you therequick enough if you were well, for telling me such a preposterouslie. You've usually paid more respect to my intelligence by telling mestories that I could believe if I wanted to, as I usually wanted do; butthis is too much."
As the conversation began the Deacon had passed out with a bucket togo to the creek for water for the cow. He now came back, set the bucketdown in front of the cow, and began, from force of long habit in caringfor his stock, to pick off some burs, and otherwise groom her.
"Say, my friend," said the officer, "who brought that cow in?"
Shorty had been frantically trying to catch the Deacon's eye, and wasmaking all manner of winks and warning gestures without avail, for theDeacon answered frankly:
"I brung her in."
"You're just the man I'm looking for," returned the officer. Thenturning to a Sergeant who had just come up at the end of a squad, hesaid:
"Here, Sergeant, take charge of this citizen and this cow, and bringthem both up to Army Headquarters. Don't let that citizen get away fromyou. He's a slick one."
As they moved off. Shorty bolted into the crib and shouted:
"Great Jehosephat, Si, that dad of your'n 's a goner! He's got nervethat looms up like Lookout Mountain! He's a genius! He's got git-up andgit to spare! What do you think he done last night? Walked up to Gen.Rosecrans's Headquarters, and stole the General's cow right from underthe noses o' the Headquarters Guards, and brung her down here and milkedher. Did you ever hear o' sich snap? I only wisht that me and you washalf the man that he is, old as he is. The only trouble is that he isn'tas good a hider as he is on the take. They've dropped on to him, andthey're now takin' him up to Headquarters. But he'll find some way togit off. There's no end to that man. And to think that we've bin playin'him right along for a hayseed."
And Shorty groaned in derision of his own acumen.
"Pop stole Gen. Rosecrans's cow from Headquarters? They've arrestedhim and are taking him up there?" ejaculated Si in amazement. "I don'tbelieve a word of it."
"Well, the cow was here. He brung her here last night, and owned up toit. He milked her, and you drunk some of the milk. The Provost-Guard'snow walkin' the cow and him up to Headquarters. These are early mornin'facts. You kin believe what you dumbed please."
"Pap arrested and taken to Army Headquarters," groaned Si, in deepestanxiety. "What in the world will they do with him?"
"O, don't worry," said Shorty cheerfully.
"Your dad ain't as green as you are, if he has lived all his life onthe Wabash. He's as fly as you make 'em. He's fixin' up some story as hegoes along that'll git him out of the scrape slick as a whistle. Trusthim."
"Shorty," said Si severely, "my father don't fix up stories. Understandthat. He's got some explanation for this. Depend upon it."
"They call it explanation when it gits a feller out, and blamed lie whenit don't," muttered Shorty to himself, as he went out again, to followthe squad as far as he could with his eyes. "Anyway, I'll bet on theDeacon."
The squad arrived before Headquarters, and the officer dismounted andwent in. Early as it was he found the indefatigable Rosecrans at workwith his staff and clerks.
"General, I've found your cow, and got the man who took her," said theofficer.
"Good," said the General joyfully. "Now we'll have some fresh milkagain. I can give up anything cheerfully, rather than fresh milk. Sayyou've got the thief, too?" continued the General, relapsing into one ofhis testy moods. "Put the rascal at the hardest labor you can find. I'llgive him a lesson that stealing from Headquarters don't pay. The rascalsin my army seem to think that I and everything I have belongs to them asmuch as it does to me. But I'll draw the line at my cow and my horses.They can steal everything else but them. Hold on a minute. I'll go outand see if it's really my cow."
"Yes, that is she; glad to see you back, Missy," said the General,patting the cow on the back. "Take her back and give her a good feed, ifyou can find it, for probably she's pretty hungry."
Then turning to the Deacon:
"You old rascal, you'll steal the General's cow, will you? Fond ofthorobred stock, are you? And a citizen, too. Well, I'll see whether amonth of hard work on the fortifications won't cure you of your fancyfor blooded cattle."
"Look here, Gen. Rosecrans," said the Deacon firmly, "I didn't stealyour cow, and I won't allow you nor no other man to say so. I'm anhonest man, or at least I've always passed for one at home. I was outover the river yesterday, tryin' to git a hoss back to his owner, and aCaptain of a cavalry company come along and took my hoss away, and giveme this cow in exchange. He said his men'd got the cow down the roadapiece, and that's all I know of her."
"A very likely story," sneered several of the staff.
"Let me see," said the General, who prided himself on remembering namesand faces. "Haven't I met you before? Aren't you from Indiana?"
"Yes, sir; from Posey County."
"And you've got a son in one of the regiments?"
"Yes, sir. Corporal Si Klegg, Co. Q, 200th Injianny Volunteers. Him andhis partner Shorty wuz badly wounded, and I come down here to take careof 'em. I've bin moseyin' around out in the country tryin' to findsomething for 'em to eat, and the other day I--borryed a hoss, which Iwas tryin' to take back, when this cavalry Captain come along, and tukthe hoss away from me and give me this cow instid. I hadn't no ideewhere he got her, and he didn't give me time to ask, for he started onthe jump after some guerrillas."
"I shouldn't wonder if his story is true, General," said a member ofthe staff. "You see, your cow has been gone really two days. Day beforeyesterday we sent Blue Jim out into the country with her. She needed itawfully. We laid the law down to Blue Jim about being very careful withher and keep her near the road. It seems that he found a good piece ofmeadow, and turned her loose in it, but then, nigger like, he forgot allthat we had told him about staying light alongside of her, and wanderedoff to gather persimmons, and afterward fell asleep in a fence-corner.When he woke up the cow was gone, and he was scared nearly to death. Hehunted around for her all day, and came in last night nearly starved todeath, and whimpering and blubbering. We told him that you would orderhim shot as soon as you found out. He has been to see the Chaplaintwice, to prepare for deat
h."
"So?" said the General, smiling. "Well, Mr.-- Mr.-- I did know yourname once--"
"Klegg, Josiah Klegg," answered the Deacon promptly.
"Yes; how stupid of me to forget it. Well, Mr. Klegg, I'm very muchobliged to you for finding my cow and bringing her home. You've got avery fine son--splendid soldier. How is he getting along?"
"Tollably well, General, thank you. Look here, General, please let metake those boys home. If you will, I'll send 'em back to you in afew weeks good as new. All they need is mother's cookin' and mother'snursin' to bring 'em right out. And I want to go home, too. The army isdemoralizin' me. I guess I'm gittin' old, and 'm not as strong to resistsin and the suggestions of sin as I once was. I'm gittin' scared ofmyself down here."
"It's pretty hard work getting back now," said the General. "Do youthink you can do it, if I give you leave?"
"O, yes. Jest give the order, and I'll get the boys and myself backhome, sure's you're livin'."
"Very well," said the General; "you shall have the chance." He turned toone of his staff and said:
"Look into this matter. If the Surgeon thinks they can be moved, havefurloughs and transportation made out for them and the father. Good-by,Mr. Klegg. Take good care of those boys, and send them back to me assoon as they are well."
