aid Si, "that wouldn't be fair. And it wouldn't be the way
Rosenbaum wants it done. He's got his reasons for the other way.
Besides, I'd be a great deal better satisfied in my mind, if I could
have it out with him, hand-to-hand. It'd sound so much better in the
regiment."

"Guess that's so," assented Shorty. "Well, let's sneak up to the house."

When they got close to the house they saw that it had been deserted;
there were no dogs or other domestic animals about, and this allowed
them to get under the shade of the lilacs without discovery. The only
inmates were Rosenbaum and Bolivar, who were seated before a fire, which
Rosenbaum had built in the big fireplace in the main room. The negro was
busy cooking supper in the outbuilding which served as a kitchen. The
glass was broken out the window, and they could hear the conversation
between Rosenbaum and Bolivar.

It appeared that Rosenbaum had been making a report of his recent
doings, to which Bolivar listened with a touch of disdain mingled with
suspicion.

The negro brought in the supper, and the men ate it sitting by the fire.

[Introduction: BOLIVAR AND ROSENBAUM 77]

"I declare," said Bolivar, stopping with a piece of bread and meat in
one hand and a tin-cup of coffee in the other, "that for a man who is
devoted to the{77} South you can mix up with these Yankees with less
danger to yourself and to them than any man I ever knew. You never
get hurt, and you never hurt any of them. That's a queer thing for a
soldier. War means hurting people, and getting hurt yourself. It
means taking every chance to hurt some of the enemy. I never miss any
opportunity of killing a Yankee, no matter what I may be doing, or what
the risk is to me. I can't help myself. Whenever I see a Yankee in
range I let him have it. I never go near their lines without killing at
least{78} one."

Shorty's thumb played a little with his gunlock, but Si restrained him
with a look.

"Well," said Rosenbaum, "I hates the enemy as badly as any one can, but
I always have business more important at the time than killing men. I
want to get through with what I have to do, unt let other men do the
killing. There's enough gentlemen like you for that work."

"No, there's not enough," said Bolivar savagely. "It's treasonable for
you to say so. Our enemies outnumber us everywhere. It is the duty of
every true Southern man to kill them off at every chance, like he would
rattlesnakes and wolves. You are eit