hot coffee were placed before the hungry
girl and she ate ravenously.

"I didn't know that soldiers had chickens to eat," she remarked with a
sigh of satisfaction as she finished the last morsel.

The girl called Bob laughed merrily, the men joining in heartily.

"We don't usually," and Bob controlled her risibles with difficulty, "but
you see a whole heap of them walked right into camp, and so of course we
ate them."

"Wasn't it queer that they should come right into camp?" said serious
Jeanne. "I always thought that you had to run after them to catch them."

Again the girl and the men laughed.

"Of course they didn't exactly come here," said Bob comfortably, "but
we've got the smartest regiment in the whole Confederate army. I verily
believe that it could catch and skin a hog without a man leaving the
ranks. Oh, they are fine foragers!"

"Forager?" Jeanne looked mystified. "I wonder if Dick is a forager!"

"Who is Dick?"

"Dick is my brother in the army," said Jeanne proudly.

"Well, if he is a soldier you can depend upon it that he is a forager,"
said Bob with decision. "Which side is your brother on?"

"The Union."

The smile died away from the girl's lips at the reply, and she looked at
Jeanne with coldness.

"I did not think that you were a Southerner when you spoke," she said.
"What are you doing here? We are Confederates."

"Yes, I know," answered Jeanne. "My aunt and uncle left me on a deserted
plantation because I was a Yankee, and I started back to New Orleans
hoping that General Butler would send me home. I must have taken the
wrong road, and so gotten lost. You won't turn me away, will you, just
because I am a Yankee?"

"No; not for to-night anyway. I just hate Yankees, but I reckon you don't
count as you are a girl. Come on to bed now, and we'll talk it over in
the morning."

And Jeanne went into the tent content to let the morrow take care of
itself now that she was sheltered for the night.

CHAPTER XIX

"BOB"

At daybreak the roll of martial drums startled Jeanne into wakefulness.

"What is it?" she cried, springing from the couch.

"The drummers are beating the reveille," answered the calm voice of Bob
who was already up. "That means that it is time to get up. You needn't
be in a hurry, however. There are two hours yet until breakfast."

"But you are dressing," said Jeanne. "I will too."

"I always get up when the regiment does," answered Bob. "But you are
different