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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
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