his
squad to the regiment he found it had forced its way to the foot of the
high wall of rock that rose straight up from the slope.

The rebels on the crest, 100 feet above, had been trying to assist their
comrades below, by firing with their muskets, and occasionally sending a
shell, where they could get their howitzers sufficiently depressed. Now
they had bethought themselves to roll rocks and heavy stones off the
crest, which fell with a crash on the treetops below.

The 200th Ind. was raging along the foot of the wall, trying to find a
cleft in it by which they could climb to the top and get at their foes.
Standing a few yards in the rear, under a gigantic white-oak, whose
thick branches promised protection from the crashing bowlders, the
Colonel was sending parties to explore every place that seemed hopeful,
and report to him. When Si came up with his squad he was directed to go
to the extreme left, and see what he could find.

He did so, and came to a little open space made by the washings which
poured over the crest of the rock when the rain descended in torrents.
There was a cleft there, but it was 40 feet above them, and surrounded
by rebels, who yelled at the sight of his squad, and sent down a volley
of bowlders. Si and his squad promptly dodged these by getting behind
trunks of trees. They fired at the rebels on the crest, who as promptly
lay down and sheltered themselves.

The firing and stone-throwing lasted an hour or more, and then seemed to
die down from sheer exhaustion.

As the stones begun to come down more fitfully, and at longer intervals.
Shorty shouted to those on top:

"Say, you fellers up there, ain't you gittin' tired o' that work? You
ain't hurtin' nobody with them dornicks. We kin dodge 'em easy, and
you're just strainin' yourselves for nothin'. Let up for awhile, till we
both rest and git a fresh hold. We'll amuse you if you will."

"What'll you do?" asked one of the rebels, peering over the crest.

"Lots o' things. I'll turn one o' my famous doubleback-action
flip-flaps, which people have come miles to see, when I was traveling
with Dan Rice. Or we'll sing you a song. We've here the World Renowned
Ballad-Singer of Bean Blossom Crick. Or we'll make you a speech. We have
here the Justly-Famous Boy Orator of Pogue's Run."

Everything had become quite still all around during this dialog.

"Give us a song," said the rebel, and his comrades' heads began showing
over the edge of the r