Shorty
told him to stick to it, and he bravely pulled away while the clouds of
smoke curled above him.

It was not long till the color left his face, his head was in a whirl,
and his stomach began to manifest eruptive symptoms.

"Shorty," he gasped, "I'm awful sick. If smokin' makes a feller feel
like this I don't want any more of it in mine."

"Where's all yer sand ye brag so much about?" said Shorty, laughing.
"You're mighty poor timber for a soljer if ye can't stand a little pipe
o' terbacker like that. You'll get over it purty soon, and it won't
bother ye any next time ye try it."

Si found that he had on hand about as much as he could manage with his
dizzy head and the rebellion that was so actively going on at a point
a little lower in his physical system. The feeling wore gradually off,
however, and by the time he was able to walk their clothes were well
dried. They proceeded to "dress up," and then returned to camp.

During the afternoon the camp was visited by natives, black and white,
from the region round about, with corn "pones," alleged pies, boiled
eggs, and truck of various kinds, which they sought to dispose of for a
valuable consideration. They struck a bad crowd, however, in a financial
sense. The members of the 200th Ind. were not at this time in a
condition of opulence. Most of them had spent what money they brought
from home, and they had not been out long enough yet to receive a visit
from the Paymaster. The lank men and scrawny women cried their wares
vociferously, but with indifferent results. The boys wanted the stuff,
but they were "busted," and trade was dull.

Si looked wistfully at the "pies," and suggested to Shorty a joint
investment. Their purses were nearly empty, but the temptation was too
strong to be resisted.

"Them looks nice," said Si. They were the first pies he had seen since
leaving home, and his judgment was a little "off." As a matter of fact,
it was only by the greatest stretch of courtesy that they could be
called pies at all. But the word touched Si in a tender spot, and he
only thought of such as his mother used to make.

Si and Shorty "pooled in" and bought a pie. Impatiently whipping out
his pocket knife Si tried to cut it in two. It was hard work, for the
"crust"--so called--was as tough as the hide of a mule. By their united
efforts they at length succeeded in sawing it asunder. It was a fearful
and wonderful specimen of culinary effort. It was made of two sl