e
cards and what he knows besides. They've bin skinnin' one another so
long that they'll be as anxious to git at your fresh young blood as a
New Orleans skeeter is to sink into a man just from the North."

"Didn't think they'd allow gambling in so good a regiment as the 200th
Ind.," remarked Alf Russell, who was a devoted attendant on Sunday
school.

"Don't allow it. It's strictly prohibited."

"But I thought that in the army you carried out orders, if you had to
kill men."

"Well, there's orders and orders," said Shorty, philosophically. "Most
of 'em you obey to the last curl on the letter R, and do it with a jump.
Some of 'em you obey only when you have to, and take your chances at
improving the State o' Tennessee by buildin' roads and diggin' up stumps
in the parade ground if you're ketched not mindin'. Of them kind is the
orders agin gamblin'."

"Shorty, stop talkin' to the boys about gamblin'. I won't have it,"
commanded Si. "Boys, you mustn't play cards on no account, especially
with older men. It's strictly agin orders, besides which I'll break any
o' your necks that I ketch at it. You must take care o' your money and
send it home. Forward, march."

They went up the road from the John Ross house until they came to that
turning off to the right by a sweet gum and a sycamore, as indicated by
Gen. Sherman, and then began a labored climbing of the rough, stony way
across Mission Ridge. Si's and Shorty's eagerness to get to the regiment
increased so with their nearness to it that they went at a terrific pace
in spite of all obstacles.

"Please, Sarjint," begged Gid Mackall, as they halted for an instant
near a large rock, "need we go quite so fast? We're awfully anxious to
git to the regiment, too, but I feel like as if I'd stove two inches
offen my legs already against them blamed rocks."

"I can't keep up. I can't keep up at all," whimpered little Pete
Skidmore. "You are just dead certain to lose me."

"Pull out just a little more, boys," Si said pleasantly. "We must be
almost there. It can't be but a little ways now."

"Close up there in front!" commanded Shorty. "Keep marchin' distance--19
inches from back to breast. Come on, Pete. Gi' me your hand; I'll help
you along."

"I ain't no kid, to be led along by the hand," answered Pete sturdily,
refusing the offer. "I'll keep up somehow. But you can't expect my short
legs to cover as much ground as them telegraph poles o' your'n."

The summit of the ri