with gun 'n' knapsack, 'n' chawin' hardtack, 'n'
stan'in' guard nights, 'n' pourin' water on their blisters, 'n' pickin'
graybacks off their shirts, 'n' p'leecin' camp, 'n' washin' their own
clothes?"

"I think we'd enj'y seein' 'em do all that," said Shorty, laughing
at the picture Si had drawn. "I reckon most of 'em 'd peter out purty
quick, and I'd like to hear what sort o' speeches they'd, make then. I
tell ye, Si, there's a big diff'rence 'tween goin' yerself an' tellin'
some other feller to go."

"Mebbe they'll git to draftin' after a while," observed Si, "'n' if they
do I hope that'll ketch em!"

"Wall, we're in fur it, anyway," said Shorty. "Let's take down the bed
'n' turn in!"

It didn't take long to complete the arrangements for the night. They
spread their "gum" blankets, or ponchos, on the ground, within the tent,
and on these their wool blankets, placed their knapsacks at the head for
pillows, and that was all. It was warmer than usual that evening, and
they stripped down to their nether garments.

"Feels good once in a while," said Si, "to peel a feller's clothes oft,
'n' sleep in a Christian-like way. But, Great Scott! Shorty, ain't this
ground lumpy? It's like lying on a big washboard. I scooted all over the
country huntin' fer straw to-night. There wasn't but one little stack
within a mile of camp. Them derned Ohio chaps gobbled every smidgin of
it. They didn't leave enuff to make a hummin'-bird's nest. The 200th
Ind. 'll git even with 'em some day."

So Si and Shorty crept in between the blankets, drew the top one up to
their chins, and adjusted their bodily protuberances as best they could
to fit the ridges and hollows beneath them.

"Now, Si," said Shorty, "don't ye git to fitin' rebels in yer sleep and
kick the kiver off, as ye did last night."

As they lay there their ears caught the music of the bugles sounding the
"tattoo." Far and near floated through the clear night air the familiar
melody that warned every soldier not on duty to go to bed. Next to the
200th Ind. lay a regiment of wild Michigan veterans, who struck up,
following the strains of the bugles:

Say, oh Dutch'y, will ye fight mit Si-gel?
Zwei glass o' la-ger, Yaw! Yaw! Yaw!!!
Will yet fight to help de bul-ly ea-gle?

Schweitzer-ksse und pret-zels,
Hur-raw! raw! raw!

During the night there came one of those sudden storms that seemed to
be sent by an inscrutable Providence especially to give v