r to
have umpires and referees, and the thing conducted accordin' to the
rules of the P. R. Then when you git through you know for sure who's
licked."

"Jist 'cordin' t' how one's raised," remarked Nate philosophically.
"I've allers done seed a big furse o' some kind at a weddin'. Don't all
yo'uns have none at yo'uns's weddin's?"

"Nothin' worse'n gittin' the girl's dad to consent," answered Shorty,
"and scratchin' 'round to git the money to git married on to buy a
new suit o' clothes, fee the preacher, pay for the license, and start
housekeepin'. That's enough for one lifetime."

"Well, mam an' the gals made Wils's weddin' cloze," said Nate
reflectively. "He had his own sheep, which he sheared in the Spring.
They'uns carded, spun, dyed, an' wove the wool themselves, an' made him
the purtiest suit o' cloze ever seed on the mountings."

"Your mother and sisters goin' to make your weddin' suit, Si?" asked
Shorty. "What'd he have to pay for the license?"

"License? What's that?" asked Nate.

"License? Why, a license," explained Si, "is something you git from the
County Clerk. It's leave to git married, and published in the County
paper."

"Don't have t' have no leave from nobody down here t' git married. Hit's
nobody's business but the man's an' the gal's, an' they'uns's famblies.
Some times other folkses tries t' stick their noses in, but they'uns git
sot down upon."

"What'd he pay the preacher?" asked Shorty.

"Why, mam gin his wife a hank o' fine stockin' yarn, an' dad gin him a
couple sides o' bacon."

"At present prices o' pork in Injianny," remarked Si, after a little
mental figuring, "that wasn't such a bad fee."

"If you speak to the Captain," suggested Si, "he'll let you go back
home to your wife. I don't believe there's goin' to be anything special
to-night. The cavalry don't seem to be stirrin' up nothin out there."

"I don't keer t'," said Nate, in his sweet, girlish drawl. "Ruther
stay with yo'all. Mout somethin' happen. Biff Perkins an' his gang
o' gorillers is out thar somewhar, not fur off, huntin' a chance fur
deviltry. I'd like mouty t' git a whack at they'uns. Nance'll keep.
She's mine now, fast an' good, for ever, an'll wait fur me. Afore we wuz
spliced I wuz afeered Zach Barnstable mout work some contrivance t' git
her, but now she belongs t' me."

The boys took him to their hearts more than ever.

At the coming of the early dawn the regiment was aroused and marched
back to camp, th