're now only part o' the real estate on the other
side o' the crick. They're suddently become no good for poll-tax; only
to be assessed by the acre."

"So you're sure they can't do more harm to the bridge?"

"No more'n the dead leaves on the banks."

"But I thought," persisted Harry, "that when a man's killed something
had to be done--coroner's inquest, corpse got ready, funeral, preacher,
neighbors gather in, and so on."

"Well, you needn't bother about any obsequies to them fellers over
there," said Shorty, sententiously, as he pulled away at his pipe. "You
done your whole share when you done the heavy work o' providin' the
corpses. Let anybody that wants to put on any frills about plantin' 'em.
If we have time tomorrow mornin' and nothin' better to do, we may go
over there and dig holes and put 'em in. But most likely we'll be needed
to rebuild that bridge they burnt. I'd rather do that, so's we kin hurry
on to Chattynoogy. Buzzards'll probably be their undertakers. They've
got a contract from the Southern Confedrisy for all that work. You lay
down and go to sleep. That's the first dooty of a soldier. You don't
know what may be wanted o' you tomorrow, and you should git yourselves
in shape for anything--fightin', marchin' or workin'."

"And sha'n't we do nothin' neither to that man that we shot when he was
tryin' to set fire to the train?" asked little Pete Skidmore, who with
Sandy Baker had come up and listened to Shorty's lecture. "He's still
layin' out there where he dropped, awful still. Me and Sandy took a
piece o' fat pine and went down and looked at him. We didn't go very
close. We didn't like to. He seemed so awful quiet and still."

"No; you let him alone," snapped Shorty impatiently. "He'll keep. Lay
down and git some sleep, I tell you. What need you bother about a
dead rebel? He ain't makin' no trouble. It's the livin' ones that need
lookin' out for."

The boys' looks showed that they were face to face with one of the
incomprehensibilities of war. But they lay down and tried to go to
sleep, and Shorty's thoughts returned to Indiana.

A shot rang out from the post on which he had stationed Jim Humphreys.
He was on his feet in an instant, with his gun in hand, and in the next
Si was beside him.

"What's up?" inquired Si, rubbing his eyes.

"Nothin', I believe," answered Shorty. "But hold the boys and I'll go
out and see."

He strode forward to Jim's side and demanded what he had shot at.

"I s