ok it upon himself openly to defy the officer, exclaiming profanely
that he'd be damned if he ever enlisted to do nigger work. The others
laughed, and joined in the revolt, until the captain unceremoniously
flung off his blouse, thus divesting himself of every vestige of rank,
and proceeded to enforce his authority. It was a battle royal, the
soldiers crowding eagerly about, and yelling encouragement impartially
first to one combatant, and then another.

"Kick him in the ribs, Sam!"

"Now, Abe, yer've got him--crack the damn cuss's neck."

"By golly! that's the way we do it in ol' Salem."

"He's got yer now, Jenkins, he's got yer now--good boy, Abe."

Exactly what occurred I could not see, but when the circle of wildly
excited men finally broke apart, the big rebel was lying flat on his
back in the yellow mud, and the irate officer was indicating every
inclination to press him down out of sight.

"Hav' yer hed 'nough, Sam Jenkins?" he questioned, breathlessly.
"Then, blame ye, say so."

"All right, Abe--yer've bested me this time."

"Will yer tote them passels?"

The discomfited Jenkins, one of whose eyes was closed, and full of
clay, attempted a sickly grin.

"Hell! yes," he admitted, "I'd sure admire ter dew it."

The conqueror released his grip, and stood up, revealing his full
height, and reaching out for the discarded blouse, quietly slipped it
on. One of the _Adventurer's_ passengers, an officer in uniform, going
ashore, another tall, spare man, had halted on the gangplank to watch
the contest. Now he stepped forward to greet the victor, with smiling
eyes and outstretched hand.

"Not so badly done, Captain," he said cordially. "I am Lieutenant
Jefferson Davis, of General Atcheson's staff, and may have a good word
to say regarding your efficiency some time."

The other wiped his clay-bespattered fingers on his dingy Jean pants,
and gripped the offered hand, appearing homelier than ever because of a
smear of blood on one cheek.

"Thank ye, sir," he answered good humoredly. "I'm Abe Lincoln, of
Salem, Illinoy, an' I ain't got but just one job right now--that's ter
make them boys tote this stuff, an' I reckon they're goin' ter do it."

With the exchange of another word or two they parted, and not until
thirty years later did I realize what that chance meeting meant, there
in the clay mud of Yellow Banks, at the edge of the Indian wilderness,
when Abraham Lincoln, of Illinois, and Jefferson Davi