by John McElroy
CHAPTER IV. THE SUNSHINE OF LIFE
SI FEELS ONCE MORE THAT LIFE IS REALLY WORTH LIVING.
THERE come times in every man's life when he feels himself part of thesunshine that illumines and warms the earth:
The lover, after he has won his best girl's consent.
The candidate, after he has been elected by a big majority.
The valedictorian, after his address has been received with bursts ofringing applause.
The clerk, after he has been admitted into partnership.
The next morning the camp of the 200th Ind. seemed to Si Klegg one ofthe most delightful places on earth.
The sun shone brightly and cheerily through the crisp December air. Thefires of cedar rails sent up a pungent, grateful fragrance. Hardtack,pork and coffee tasted better than he had ever known them.
Everybody noticed him and spoke pleasantly to him. The other boys ofCo. Q called out cheerily to him from their fires. Those from othercompanies would stroll over to take a look at him and Shorty, and hiscomrades would point them out proudly as fair specimens of Co. Q, andwhat it was capable of doing when called upon in an emergency.
THE ADJUTANT SMILED ON SI AND SHORTY 49]
The Captain spoke very cordially to him and Shorty, the busy Adjutantstopped and greeted them smilingly, and even the grave Colonel singledthem out for a pleasant "Good morning" and an inquiry as to whetherthey had everything they wanted. It did not seem to Si that there wasanything more on earth just then for which he could ask.
The 200th Ind. having been at the head of the {49}column when ithalted, was to take the rear for that day's march, and so remained incamp for a while to let the rest pass on.
After getting things ready for the march Si and Shorty took a strollthrough the camp to see what was to be seen. They came across theirprisoners seated around a fire, under guard.
How different they looked from what they did the evening before, whenthe two partners encountered them in the depths of the cedar brake.Then they seemed like fierce giants, capable of terrible things, suchas would make the heart quail. Now, powerless of harm, and awed by thepresence of multitudes of armed men in blue filling the country in everydirection that they looked, they appeared very commonplace, ignorant,rough men, long-haired, staring-eyed, and poorly-clad in coarse,butternut-dyed homespun, frayed and tattered.
"Father gits better men than them to work on the farm for $8 a month,"Si remarked to Shorty, after a lengthened survey of them.
"Eight dollars a month is Congressman's wages to what they git forfightin' for the Southern Confederacy," answered Shorty. "I don't s'poseany one of 'em ever had eight real dollars in his pocket in his life.They say they're fightin' to keep us from takin' their niggers away from'em, and yit if niggers wuz sellin' for $1 a-piece not one of 'em couldbuy a six-months'-old baby. Let's go up and talk to 'em."
"I don't know 'bout that," said Si, doubtfully. "Seems to me I wouldn'tbe particularly anxious to see men who'd taken me prisoner and talkedvery cross about blowin' my blamed head off."{50}
"O, that's all right," answered Shorty confidently. "Words spoken in theheat of debate, and so on. They won't lay them up agin us. If they do,and want any satisfaction, we can give it to 'em. I kin lick any manin that crowd with my fists, and so kin you. We'll jest invite 'em toa little argyment with nature's weepons, without no interference by theguard. Come on."
THE PRISONERS 50]
The prisoners returned their greetings rather pleasantly. They wereso dazed by the host of strange faces that Si and Shorty seemed, in ameasure, like old acquaintances.
"Had plenty to eat, boys," asked Shorty, familiarly, seating himself ona log beside them and passing his pipe and tobacco to the Sergeant.
"Plenty, thankee," said the Sergeant, taking the pipe and filling it."More'n we'uns 've had sence we left home, an' mouty good vittles, too.You Yanks sartinly live well, ef yo'uns don't do nothin' else."
"Yes," said Shorty, with a glance at his mud-stained garments, "we'rebound to live high and dress well, even if we don't lay up a cent."
"You sartinly do have good cloze, too," said the Sergeant, surveying thestout blue uniforms with admiration. "Yo'uns' common soldiers 've bettercloze than our officers. We'uns got hold o' some o' yo'uns' overcoats,and they wear like leather."
"There's leather in 'em," said Shorty unblushingly. "I tell you, old AbeLincoln's a very smart man. He saw that this war was costin' a heap ofmoney, especially for clothes. He got a bright idee that by soaking theclothes when they were new and green in the tan-vats, jest after theleather wuz taken out, they'd take up the strength o' the leather out o'the juice, and wear always. The idee worked bully, and now old Abe goesevery morning to where they're makin' clothes and sees that every stitchis put to soak."
"Nobody but a Yankee'd thought o' that," said the rebelreflectively.{52}
"You bet," assented Shorty. "Jeff Davis'd never think of it if helived to be as old as Methuselah. But that's only the beginnin' of AbeLincoln's smartness."
"He's a durned sight smarter man than we'uns thought he wuz when webegun the war," admitted the Sergeant. "But we'uns 'll wollop him yit,in spite of his smartness."
"We kin tell more about that a few months later," returned Shorty. "It'snever safe to count the game until the last hand's played. We hain'tfairly begun to lead trumps yit. But what are you fellers fighting for,anyhow?"
"We'uns foutin' for our liberty, and t' keep yo'uns from takin' ourniggers away."
The reply that came to Shorty's lips was that they seemed to be losing agreat deal of liberty rather than gaining it, but he checked this bythe fear that it would be construed as an ungentlemanly boast of theircapture. He said, instead:
"I never knowed as any of us wanted your niggers--me particularly. Iwouldn't take a wagon load of 'em, even if the freight was prepaid. But,let me ask you, Sergeant, how many niggers do you own?"
"I don't own nary one."
"Does your father own any?"
"No, he don't."
"Does your mother, or brothers, uncles, aunts, or cousins own any?"persisted Shorty.
"No, thar ain't nary one owned in the hull family."
"Seems to me," said Shorty, "you're doin' a great deal of fightin' tokeep us from takin' away from{53} you something that we don't want andyou hain't got. That's the way it looks to a man from north o' the OhioRiver. Mebbe there's something in the Tennessee air that makes him seedifferently. I'll admit that I've changed my mind about a good manythings since we crossed the river."
"I've alluz said," spoke another of the prisoners, "that this wuz a richman's wah and a pore man's fout."
"Well," said Shorty, philosophically, "for folks that like that sort o'fightin,' that's the sort o' fightin' they like. I'm different. I don't.When I fight it's for something that I've got an interest in."
While the discussion was going on Si had been studying the appearance ofthe prisoners. In spite of their being enemies his heart was touched bytheir comfortless condition. Not one of them had an overcoat or blanket.The Sergeant and a couple of others had over their shoulders pieces ofthe State House carpet, which had been cut up into lengths and sewedtogether for blankets. Another had what had once been a gaudy calicocounterpane, with the pat tern "Rose of Sharon" wrought out in flamingcolors. It was now a sadly-bedraggled substitute for a blanket. Theothers had webs of jeans sewed to gether.
The buttons were gone from their garments in many essential places, andreplaced by strings, nails, skewers and thorns. Worst of all, almostevery one of them was nearly shoeless. A sudden impulse seized Si.
"Shorty," said he, "these men are going up where the weather is verycold. I wish I was able to{54} give each of them a warm suit of clothesand a blanket. I ain't though. But I tell you what I will do; I'll godown to the Quartermaster and see if he'll issue me a pair of shoes foreach of 'em, and charge it to my clothin' account."
"Bully idee," ejaculated Shorty. "I'll go you halves. Mebbe if they gittheir understandin' into Yankee leat
her it'll help git some Yankee ideesinto their understandin'. See?"
And Shorty was so delighted with his little joke that he laughed overit all the way to the Quarter master's wagon, and then rehearsed it forthat officer's entertainment.
Fortunately, the Quartermaster had a box of shoes that he could get atwithout much trouble, and he was in sufficiently good humor to grantSi's request.
They added a warm pair of socks to each pair of shoes, and so wrought upthe A. Q. M.'s sympathies that he threw in some damaged overcoats, andother articles, which he said he could report "lost in action."
They came back loaded with stuff, which they dumped down on the groundbefore the prisoners, with the brief remark:
"Them's, all yours. Put 'em on."
The prisoners were overwhelmed by this generosity on the part of theirfoes and captors.
"I alluz thought," said the Sergeant, "that you Yankees wuz not halfso bad ez I believed that yo'uns wuz. Yo'uns is white men, if yo'uns dowant to take away our niggers."
"Gosh," said the man who had uttered the opinion that it was a richman's war and a poor man's fight,{55} "I'd give all my interest in everynigger in Tennessee for that ere one pa'r o' shoes. They're beauties, Itell you. I never had so good a pa'r afore in all my life."
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