I've
been on the point of tailing him into the woods somewhere and killing
him, and so get rid of him. It's all right now. He'll go back to
Tullahoma with a fearful story of the fight I made against you, and that
I am probably killed. I'll turn up there in a week or two with my own
story, and I'll give him fits for having skipped out and left me to
fight you two alone. Say, it's a good ways to camp. Let's start at once,
for I want to get to Headquarters as soon as possible."

"You've got another revolver there," said Si, who had prudently reloaded
his own weapon.

"That's so," said Bolivar, pulling it out. "You can take and carry it or
I'll take the cylinder out, if you are not convinced about me."

"You'd better let me carry it," said Shorty, shoving the revolver in
his own belt. "These are queer times, and one can't be too careful with
rebels who{83} claim to be Yankees, and Yankees who claim to be rebels."

They trudged back to camp, taking turns riding the horse. When the rebel
rode, however, one of the boys walked alongside with the bridle in his
hand. All doubts as to Bolivar's story were dispelled by his instant
recognition by the Provost-Marshal, who happened to be at the
picket-post when they reached camp.

"The longer I live," remarked Shorty, as they made their way along to
the Hoosier's Rest, "and I seem to live a little longer every day, the
less I seem to understand about this war."

Shorty spoke as if he had had an extensive acquaintance with wars.

"The only thing that I've come to be certain about," assented Si, "is
that you sometimes most always can't generally tell."

And they proceeded to get themselves some supper, accompanying the
work of denunciations of the Commissary for the kind of rations he was
drawing for the regiment, and of the Orderly-Sergeant for his letting
the other Orderlies eucher him out of the company's fair share.

CHAPTER VI. LETTER FROM HOME

THE DEACON'S TROUBLES IN GETTING HOME WITH ABRAHAM LINCOLN.

ONE MORNING the Orderly-Sergeant handed Si the following letter:

Deer Son: I got hoam safely a weke ago, thanks 2 all-protecting
Providens; likewise 2 about 175 pound of tuff & helthy Josiah Klegg.
Providens helpt rite along, but it tuk 50-year-old Injianny hickory &
whit-leather 2 pull through sum ov the tite plasis.

Abraham Lincoln is as strong as an ox, but I never thought that anything
that diddent wear horns or chew the cud could be so measly dumb. He kin