alf-mile further with her she'd a run me up agin a Justice
o' the Peace and married me in spite of all that I could do. I'd much
ruther have my head blowed off than married to that old catamount.

"Bah, you can't marry folks unless both are willin'," insisted Si. "A
man can't have a marriage rung in on him willy-nilly."

"There's just where you're shootin' off your mouth without any sense.
You don't know what you're talkin' about. Men are lassoed every day and
married to women that they'd run away from like a dog from a porcupine,
if they could. You jest look around among the married folks you know,
and see how many there are that wouldn't have married one another if
they'd bin in their senses."

"Well, I don't think o' many," said Si, whose remembrances were that the
people in Posey County seemed generally well-mated.

"Well, there mayn't be many, but there's some, and I don't propose to
be one of 'em. There's some spell or witchcraft about it. I've read in
books about things that gave a woman power to marry any man she wanted
to, and he couldn't help himself. That woman's got something o' that
kind, and she's set her eye on me. I'm goin' to meet her, and I want to
help break up her gang, but I'd a great deal rather tackle old Bragg and
his entire army. I want you to stay right by me every minnit, and keep
your eye on me when she's near me."{197}

"All right," said Si sleepily, as he crawled into bed.

The next morning, as they were discussing the question of signals, they
happened to pass the Sutler's, and Si caught a glimpse of packages of
firecrackers, which the regimental purveyor had, for some inscrutable
reason, thought he might sell. An idea occurred to Si, and he bought a
couple of packages, and stowed them away in his blouse pocket and told
the Captain that their firing would be the signal, unless a musket-shot
should come first.

It was yet early in the forenoon as they walked on the less-frequented
side of the camp. Shorty gave a start, and gasped:

"Jewhilikins, there she is already."

Si looked, and saw Mrs. Bolster striding toward them. Shorty hung back
instinctively for an instant, and then braced up and bade her good
morning.

She grunted an acknowledgment, and said rather imperiously:

"Y're a-gwine, air yo'?"

"Certainly," answered Shorty.

"And yo'?" she inquired, looking at Si.

"He's a-goin', too," answered Shorty. "Mustn't expect him to talk. He's
short on tongue this mornin'. Ket