"I wonder what game Levi is up to?" Si said, as he stood with the letter
in his hand and looked at the woman. "I'll give her all the coffee I can
and be very civil to her, but that's as far as I'll go. The old rebel
cat. I'll not lie to her for 40 Levi Rosenbaums."

"Well, I will," said Shorty. "You fix her up with the coffee, and leave
the rest to me. I always had a fancy for queer animals, and run off from
home once to travel with a menagerie. I'd like to take her up{185} North
and start a side-show with her. 'The Queen o' the Raccoon Mountains,' or
the 'Champion Snuff-Dipper o' the Sequatchie Valley.' How'd that do for
a sign?"

"Well, go ahead," said Si. "But expect no help from me."

"Mr. Klegg, when I want your help in courtin' a lady I'll let you know,"
said Shorty with dignity. Si went back to the tent to see about
getting the coffee, and Shorty approached Mrs. Bolster with an engaging
expression on his countenance. She was knocking the ashes out of her
pipe.

"Let me fill your pipe up again. Madam, with something very choice,"
said he, pulling out a plug of bright natural leaf. "Here's some
terbacker the like o' which you never see in all your born days. It was
raised from seed stole from the private stock of the High-muk-a-muk o'
Turkey, brung acrost the ocean in a silver terbacker box for the use
o' President Buchanan, and planted in the new o' the moon on a piece
o' ground that never before had raised nothin' but roses and
sweet-williams. My oldest brother, who is a Senator from Oshkosh, got
just one plug of it, which he divided with me."

"O, my! is that true?" she gurgled.

"It's as true as that you are a remarkably fine lookin' woman," he said
with unblushing countenance, as he began whittling off some of the
tobacco to fill her pipe. "I was struck by your appearance as soon as I
saw you. I always was very fond of the Southern ladies."

"Sakes alive, air y'?" she asked; "then what air yo'uns down here
foutin' we'uns fur?"{186}

"That's a long story, m'm," answered Shorty. "It was a trick o' the
Abolition politicians that got us into it. I'm awful sick o' the war
(that we hain't gone ahead and knocked the heads offen this whole crowd
instead o' layin' 'round here in camp for months)" he added as a mental
reservation, "and wisht I was out of it (after we've hung Jeff Davis on
a sour-apple tree). Then I might settle down here and marry some nice
woman. You're a widder, I believe you said."

"Yes,