ter. You
do write the best letters of any woman in the whole world."

He looked up, and there was little Pete's face before him.

"What do you do when one o' them wild rebels comes cavorting and
tearing toward you, on a big hoss, with a long sword, and yelling like a
catamount?" he asked.

"Paste him with a bullet and settle him," said Shorty testily, for he
wanted to go on with his letter.

"But s'pose he comes on you when your gun ain't loaded, and his sword
is, or you've missed him, as I did that hog?"

"Put on your bayonet and prod his hoss in the breast, and then give him
18 inches o' cold steel. That'll settle him. Go and lay down, Pete, I
tell you. Don't disturb me. Don't you see I'm writing?"

Shorty went on with his letter.

"How I wish you wood rite offener. Ide like to get a letter from you
every--"

"Say, Corpril," broke in little Pete, "they say that them rebel cavalry
kin reach much further with their swords when they're up on a hoss
than you kin with your gun and bayonit, especially when you're a
little feller like me, and they're quicker'n wildcats, and there's just
millions of 'em, and--"

"Who says?" said Shorty savagely. "You little open-mouthed squab, are
you lettin' them lyin', gassin, galoots back there fill you up with
roorbacks about them triflin', howlin', gallopin', rebel cavalry? Go
back there, and tell 'em that if I ketch another man breathin' a word
to you about the rebel cavalry I'll come and mash his head as flat as
a pancake. Don't you be scared about rebel cavalry. You're in much more
danger o' bein' struck by lightnin' than of bein' hit by a rebel
on hossback. Go off and go to sleep, now, and don't ask me no more
questions."

"Can't I ask you just one?" pleaded Pete.

"Yes, just one."

"If we form a holler square agin cavalry will I be in the holler, or up
on the banks?"

For the first time in his life, Shorty restrained the merciless jeer
that would come to his lips at any exhibition of weakness by those
around him. The thought of Maria softened him and made him more
sympathetic. He had promised her to be a second father to little Pete.
He saw that the poor boy was being frightened as he had never been
before by the malicious fun of the veterans in pouring into his ears
stories of the awful character of the rebel cavalry. Shorty sucked
the ink off his pen, put his hand soothingly on Pete, and said in a
paternally comforting way:

"My boy, don't let them blowhar