are so loving that
sometimes they spray themselves in little pieces all over a fellow, like
a shower of rice over a bride at a wedding."

"How long do you think the Yankees will keep it up?" asked Dick, putting
indignation in his tone. "Haven't they any respect for the night?"

"Not a bit. That fellow Grant is a pounder. They say he'll blow away the
whole plateau of Vicksburg if we don't drive him off."

"Well, we'll do it. You wait till old Joe Johnston comes up. Then we'll
shut him between the jaws of a vise and squeeze the life out of him."

"Hope so. Where've you been?"

"Down below the town. I'm coming back with messages."

"So long. Good luck. Keep straight ahead, and you'll find all the
generals you want."

The lights increased and he went into a small tavern, where he bought
food and a cup of coffee, paying in gold. The tavern keeper asked no
questions, but his eyes gleamed at sight of the yellow coin.

"Mighty little of this comes my way now," he said frankly, "and our
own money is worth less and less every day. If things keep on the way
they're headed it'll take a bale of it as big as a bale of cotton to pay
for one good, square meal."

Dick laughed.

"Not so bad as that," he said. "You wait until we've given Grant a big
thrashing and have cleared their boats out of the river. Then you'll see
our money becoming real."

The man shook his head.

"Seein' will be believin'," he said, "an' as I ain't seein' I ain't
believin'."

Dick with a friendly good night went out. Grant, the persistent, was
still at work. His cannon flared on the dark horizon and the shells
crashed in Vicksburg. Scarcely any portion of the town was safe. Now and
then a house was smashed in and often the shells found victims.

The town was full of terror and confusion. Many of the rich planters had
come there with their families for refuge. Women and children hid from
the terrible fire, and the civilians already had begun to burrow. Caves
had been dug deep into the sides of the ravines and hundreds found in
them a rude but safe shelter.

Dick now found that his plans were going wrong. He could wander about
almost at will and to any one to whom he spoke he still claimed to be
a Tennesseean, but he knew that it could not last forever. Sooner or
later, some officer would question him closely, and then his tale would
be too thin for truth.

Unable to make a way toward the river, he returned to the slopes and
ravines, where they