d his store. The boughs had kept in the heat, so that the
food was not yet quite cold, though it had a resinous flavor, from its
covering. The Deacon broke one of the cornpones in two and gave half of
it to Shorty, with as much as he thought he should have of the meat and
vegetables. Then he fed Si, who relished the new diet almost as much
as he had relished the chicken broth. The Deacon made a hearty supper
himself, and then stored away the rest in his "cellar" under the crib,
rolling up some more large stones as an additional precaution.

"Well, you beat me," said Shorty admiringly, as he studied over the
Deacon's booty. "I used to think I was as slick a forager as there was
in the army, but I simply ain't in the same class with a man that kin
go out in this Sahara Desert o' starvation and bring in a four-year-old
horse and a wagon-load o' cooked vittles. I'd never even see the
distance pole runnin' with him. Gen. Rosecrans ought to know you. He'd
appoint you Commissary-General o' the army at once. When I get a little
stronger I want you to take me out and learn me the ABC's o' foragin'.
To think that me and Si wuz grievin' about your being ketched by the
guerrillas. What fools we wuz. It wuz lucky for the guerrillas that you
didn't run acrost 'em, for you'd a ketched 'em, instid o' 'em you."

"That's what I come purty nigh doin'," chuckled the Deacon. "But what
in the world 'm I goin' to do with that hoss and buckboard? I must hunt
around and find that poor beast some corn for tonight. He's bin driven
purty sharp, and he needs his supper jest as bad as I did mine, and I
won't feel right unless he has it. Then I must try to git him back to
his owner termorrer."

"If he's here to-morrer," said Shorty, looking at the animal carefully,
"it'll be a miracle. That's too good a hoss to be kept in this camp by
anybody lower'n a Brigadier-General. The boys'll steal him, the Captains
take him, the Colonels seize him, and the Brigadier-Generals appropriate
him for the Government's service. They'll call it by different names,
but the horse goes all the same. I don't see how you're goin' to keep
him till mornin'. You can't put him in your cellar. If they don't steal
him, it's because it's too dark to see him. I'm sorry to say there's an
awful lot o' thieves in the Army o' the Cumberland."

And Shorty looked very grieved over the deplorable lack of regard in the
army for the rights of property. He seemed to mourn this way for sev