there. I'm alive with fleas."

"Same here," ejaculated Si, who had made a similar discovery. "Just
look at 'em, hoppin' out every where. The rebels have not only set their
grayback infantry on to us, but are jumping us with their flea cavalry."

"If you call the graybacks infantry and the fleas cavalry, what in the
world do you call these, Si?" said Shorty, who had made still another
discovery, and was pointing to his wrists and ankles, where rows of
gorged ticks, looking like drops of fresh blood, encircled his limbs.

"Them's heavy artillery," answered Si; "and, Great Scott, I've got more
of 'em on me than you have. And there's some just back of your ears,
Shorty. Be careful, Shorty. Don't touch 'em. Le' me work 'em off. Be
awful careful. If you break their heads off they'll stay in and make a
sore that'll almost never get well."

They looked down the lines of men who, like themselves, had been rudely
awakened from their slumber on wet beds by "the pestilence that
walketh by night." There were howls, yells, oaths and imprecations from
everybody. Officers forgot their carefully-maintained dignity, and were
as vociferous and profane as the men.

Many were stripped, and trying to singe their wet clothes over the
smoldering fires. Many were even trying to subdue the pests by thrashing
their garments in the cold water of the creek.

"'Bout as much use as a General Order from Army Headquarters would be
agin the varmints," said Shorty, as he watched their futile labors.
"Say, you fellers," he called out to them; "why don't you repeat the Ten
Commandments to 'em? Or sing the doxology? It'll do just as much good
as sloshing your duds around in the water. The water only makes 'em
savager'n ever. You ought to know that from experience."

By the happy thought of gently touching the gorged wood-ticks with the
point of a pin Si and Shorty had gotten rid of those plagues, heads
and all, so as to leave no apprehension as to future sores. They
communicated this method to their afflicted comrades, and then turned
their attention to the other parasites.

"I guess I'll just go down to the Surgeon's tent and git a pound of
angwintum," said Shorty, "and rub myself from head to foot with it.
That's the only thing I know of that'll do the least good."

"Mustn't do that," objected Si. "Put angwintum on you and get wet, and
you'll be salivated. You ought to know that."

"I don't care," said Shorty desperately. "I'd rather be salivate