the moon at full, the
fire burning brightly, and every body in the best of spirits. The
awful week of marching, enduring and suffering; of terrific fighting,
limitless bloodshed; of wounds and death to one{158} out of every four
men in the ranks; of nerve-racking anxieties to all might as well have
been centuries ago for any sign that appeared on the bright, animated
faces of the young men who gathered in front of the cabin. They smoked,
danced old-fashioned country dances to the music of the fiddle and the
banjo, and sang songs which lamented the death of "Lily Dale," mourned
that "My Nelly was sleeping in the Hazel Dell," adjured the "Silver
Moon" to "roll on," and so on through the whole repertoire of the
sentimental ballads of that day.

Then they were invited into the house to inspect its complete, luxurious
appointments, and feast themselves to bursting on apples, hard cider,
and doughnuts that would have tried any stomach but a young soldier's.

Billy Gurney, who had been back to Nashville as one of the guard to a
train-load of wounded, was induced to favor the company with the newest
song, which had just reached that city. He cleared his throat with
another tincupful of cider, and started off with:

"When this cruel war is over."

Rapturous applause followed the first verse, and Billy started in to
teach them the chorus, so they could all join.

A loud explosion came from the fireplace, a campkettle full of cider
that was being mulled by the fire was spattered over the company,
scalding some of them severely; stones from the fireplace and bullets
flew about the room. They all rushed out.{159} Footsteps could be heard
running in the distance. They looked in that direction, and recognized
Sol Murphy's broad back and bushy head.

"That blamed Wagonmaster dropped a nosebag with a lot o' cartridges in
it down the chimbly," said Shorty, who had made an inspection of the
fireplace. "Mad because he wasn't invited. You bet, I'll salivate him
well for that little trick."

CHAPTER XIV. DEACON KLEGG'S SURPRISE

DECIDES TO VISIT MURFREESBORO' AND MEETS WITH ADVENTURES.

"MOTHER," said Mr. Josiah Klegg, Sr., suddenly laying down the County
paper, and beginning to polish his spectacles with his red bandanna, "do
you know what I've the greatest mind in the world to do?"

It was an evening in February, 1863, and the family had been sitting
for some hours after supper around the bright fire, engaged in various