ilk habits, for their bellies stuck out black and glistening from
rents in their shirts.

Their accoutrements prefigured in an absurd way the resources of the
Confederacy at a later date. They were armed with broomsticks, and
what-not. The file-leader had an old pair of tongs, which he snapped
viciously when Nan gave the word to fire. The famous sword-gun, with
which Nan did such execution, had once seen service as an umbrella
handle.

One afternoon, as Nan was drilling her troops, she chanced to glance
down the road, and saw a waggon coming along. Deploying her company
across the highway, she went forward in person to reconnoitre. She soon
discovered that the waggon was driven by Uncle Plato. Running back to
her veterans, she placed herself in front of them, and calmly awaited
events. Slowly the fat horses dragged the waggon along, when suddenly
Nan cried "Halt!" whereupon the drummer, obeying previous instructions,
began to belabour his tin-pan, while Nan levelled her famous sword-gun
at Uncle Plato. "Bang!" she exclaimed, and then, "Why didn't you fall
off the waggon?" she cried, as Uncle Plato remained immovable. "Why, you
don't know any more about real war than a baby," she said scornfully.

If the truth must be told, Uncle Plato had been dozing, and when he
awoke he viewed the scene before him with astonishment. There was no
need to cry "Halt!" or exclaim "Bang!" for as soon as the drummer began
to beat his tin-pan, the horses stood still and craned their necks
forward, with a warning snort, trying to see what this strange and
unnatural proceeding meant. Uncle Plato had involuntarily tightened the
reins when he was so rudely awakened, and the horses took this for a
hint that they must avoid the danger, and, as the shortest way is the
best way, they began to back, and had the waggon nearly turned around
before Uncle Plato could tell them a different tale.

"Ef I'd 'a' fell out'n de waggon, honey, who gwine ter pick me up?" he
asked, laughing.

"Why, no one is picked up in war!"

"Is dis war, honey?"

"Of course it is," Nan declared.

"Does bofe sides hafter take part in de rucus?" asked Uncle Plato,
making a terrible face at the little negroes.

"Why, of course," said Nan.

Seeing the scowl, Nan's veteran troops began to edge slowly toward the
nearest breach in the fence. Uncle Plato seized his whip and pretended
to be clambering from the waggon. At this a panic ensued, and Nan's army
dispersed in a ji