my share of the
delicacies was consequently correspondingly slight.

As regards the medicine given us in the hospital at Helena, my
recollection is that it was almost entirely quinine, and the doses were
frequent and copious, which I suppose was all right.

There was a boy in my company of about my age; a tall, lanky chap,
named John Barton. He had lived in our neighborhood at home, and we
were well acquainted prior to our enlistment. He was a kind hearted,
good sort of a fellow, but he had, while in the army, one unfortunate
weakness,--the same being a voracious appetite for intoxicating liquor.
And he had a remarkable faculty for getting the stuff, under any and
all circumstances. He could nose it out, in some way, as surely and
readily as a bear could find a bee-tree. But to keep the record
straight, I will further say that after his discharge he turned over a
new leaf, quit the use of whisky, and lived a strictly temperate life.
He was "under the weather" when the regiment left Helena, and so was
detailed to serve as a nurse at the hospital, and was thus engaged in
my tent. Since making that bad break at Owl Creek I had avoided whisky
as if it were a rattlesnake, but somehow, while here in the hospital, I
began to feel an intense craving for some "spiritus frumenti," as the
surgeons called it. So one day I asked John Barton if he couldn't get
me a canteenful of whisky. He said he didn't know, was afraid it would
be a difficult job,--but to give him my canteen, and he would try. That
night, as late maybe as one or two o'clock, and when the lights were
nearly all out, as usual, I heard some one stealthily walking up the
aisle, and stopping occasionally at different cots, and presently I
heard a hoarse whisper, "Stillwell! Stillwell!" "Here!" I answered, in
the same tone. The speaker then came to me,--it was old John, and
stooping down, he whispered, "By God, I've got it!" "Bully for you,
John!" said I. He raised me to a sitting posture, removed the cork, and
put the mouth of the canteen to my lips,--and I drank about as long as
I could hold my breath. John took a moderate swig himself, then
carefully put the canteen in my knapsack, which was serving as my
pillow, cautioned me to keep it concealed to avoid its being stolen,
and went away. I was asleep in about five minutes after my head struck
my knapsack, and slept all the balance of the night just like a baby.
On waking up, I felt better, too, and wanted something t