it was of course the
proprietor. He had adopted ostrich tactics, had buttoned himself up in
the tent, and was in there keeping as still as a mouse, thinking,
perhaps, that as he could see nobody, nobody could see him. That cannon
ball must have been a rude surprise. In order to have plenty of "han'
roomance," we tore down the tent at once, and then proceeded to
appropriate the contents. There were barrels of apples, bologna
sausages, cheeses, canned oysters and sardines, and lots of other truck.
I was filling my haversack with bologna when Col. Fry rode up to me and
said: "My son, will you please give me a link of that sausage?" Under
the circumstances, I reckon I must have been feeling somewhat impudent
and reckless, so I answered rather saucily, "Certainly, Colonel, we are
closing out this morning below cost;" and I thrust into his hands two or
three big links of bologna. There was a faint trace of a grin on the old
man's face as he took the provender, and he began gnawing at once on one
of the hunks, while the others he stowed away in his equipments. I
suspected from this incident that the Colonel had had no breakfast that
morning, which perhaps may have been the case. Soon after this I made
another deal. There were some cavalry in line close by us, and one of
them called out to me, "Pardner, give me some of them apples." "You
bet;" said I, and quickly filling my cap with the fruit, handed it to
him. He emptied the apples in his haversack, took a silver dime from his
pocket, and proffered it to me, saying, "Here." "Keep your money--don't
want it;" was my response, but he threw the coin at my feet, and I
picked it up and put it in my pocket. It came agreeably handy later.

Jack Medford of my company came up to me with a most complacent look on
his face, and patting his haversack, said, "Lee, I just now got a whole
lot of paper and envelopes, and am all fixed for writing home about this
battle." "Seems to me, Jack," I suggested, "you'd better unload that
stuff, and get something to eat. Don't worry about writing home about
the battle till it's done fought." Jack's countenance changed, he
muttered, "Reckon you're right, Lee;" and when next I saw him, his
haversack was bulging with bologna and cheese. All this time the battle
was raging furiously on our right, and occasionally a cannon ball,
flying high, went screaming over our heads. Walter Scott, in "The Lady
of the Lake," in describing an incident of the battle of Beal