out waggon loads of food every
day--boiled ham, barbecued shote, chicken pies, and cake; yes, and
pickles. Nan declared she didn't know there were as many pickles in the
world, as she saw unloaded at the camp.

Mr. Goodlett, who was Mrs. Absalom's husband, went out to the camp,
looked it over with the eye of an expert, and turned away with a groan.
This citizen had served both in the Mexican and the Florida wars, and he
knew that these gallant young men would have a rude awakening, when it
came to the real tug of war.

"Doesn't it look like war, Mr. Ab?" Nan asked, running after the
veteran.

Mr. Goodlett looked at the bright face lifted up to his, and frowned,
though a smile of pity showed itself around his grizzled mouth. He was a
very deliberate man, and he hesitated before he spoke. "You think that
looks like war?" he asked.

"Why, of course. Isn't that the way they do when there's a war?"

"What! gormandise, an' set in the shade? Why, it ain't no more like war
than sparrergrass is like jimson weed--not one ioter." With that, he
sighed and went on his way.

But when did the precepts of age and experience ever succeed in chilling
the enthusiasm of youth? With the children, it was "O to be a soldier
boy!" and Nan and her companions continued to linger around the edges of
the spectacle, taking it all in, and enjoying every moment. And the
Scouts themselves continued to live like lords, eating and drilling, and
dozing during the day, and at night dancing to the sweet music of
Flavian Dion's violin. Nan and Gabriel thought it was fine, and, as well
as can be remembered, Cephas was of the same opinion. As for Tasma Tid,
she thought that the fife and drums, and the general glare and glitter
of the affair were simply grand, very much nicer than war in her
country, where the Arab slave-traders crept up in the night and seized
all who failed to escape in the forest, killing right and left for the
mere love of killing. Compared with the jungle war, this pageant was
something to be admired.

And many of the older citizens held views not very different from those
of the children, for enthusiasm ran high. The Shady Dale Scouts went
away arrayed in their holiday uniforms. Many of them never returned to
their homes again, but those that did were arrayed in rags and tatters.
Their gallantry was such that the Shady Dale Scouts, disguised as
Company B, were always at the head of their regiment when trouble was on
hand. But al