man, who grabbed me
by the collar, and demanded 'what are you doing here?' I was mum as an
owl. He marched me out where there was a flickering light, and sure as
blazes it was old General Kimball. I didn't know that house was brigade
head-quarters.

"'What regiment do you belong to?'

"'Dunno.'

"'You've heard about the orders against marauding, eh?'

"'Dunno.'

"'Hand up those chickens, you rascal.'

"I handed them out from behind my shaking legs.

"'How many have you got?'

"'Dunno'--I had two pair of nice ones. The old man took out his knife
and slowly cut out one pair, looking savagely at me all the time.

"'There! You get back to camp as quick as your legs will carry you, and
if I ever get my hands on you again you'll remember it.'" He said he
thought he'd try and forage away from head-quarters next time. General
Kimball was a rigid disciplinarian, but withal a very kind-hearted man.
He no doubt paid for those chickens rather than have one of his boys
suffer for his foraging escapade. Perhaps I ought to say a word about
these foraging expeditions to eke out the boys' larder. These men were
not thieves in any sense and very few attempted this dubious method, but
the temptation was almost beyond the power of resistance. The best way
to test this temptation is to diet yourself on "hardtack" and pork for
just about one week. Then the devil's argument--always present--was
practically true there, "the chickens will be taken (not stolen) by some
of the army, and you might as well have one as anybody."

The following story of a neighboring regiment will show that even
officers high in rank sometimes found that "circumstances alter cases."
The troops were nearing bivouac at the close of the day, and, as usual,
the colonel ordered the music to start up and the men to fall into step
and approach camp in order (the march is usually in route step,--_i.e._,
every man marches and carries his gun as he pleases). The fifes and the
snare-drums promptly obeyed, but the big bass drum was silent. The men
fell into cadence step in fine shape, including the bass drummer, but
his big shell gave forth no sound. The colonel called out, "What's the
matter with the bass drum?" Still no response. A second ejaculation from
head-quarters, a little more emphatic, fared no better. Patience now
exhausted, the colonel yelled, "What in h----l's the matter, I say,
with----" when a sotto voice reached his ear, with "Colonel, colonel,
he's