smoke house.

"No, that's the guard house, Chadwick," said Harry, "where we put the
refracti-rac-tic-tactories."

"Oh, is it? I go in for that!" shouted Will Costar, "whatever
reractitactories may be."

"You're on the wrong tack now, old chap," added Tom Pringle. "But only
see what I've discovered! such a high old battery, boys! six brass
cannon nearly as big as boot-jacks. Hurrah for the Dashahed Zouaves!"
and away scampered the boys to look at the guns, while Colonel Freddy,
quite forgetting his dignity, fell to and executed a volunteer Jim Crow
polka, and Peter sang the following ridiculous song, making up words as
he went along:

"Ain't I glad I'm out in the wilderness,
Out in the wilderness,
Out in the wilderness,
Ain't I glad I'm out in the wilderness,
Down in Astori-_or_?

"Good-by, boys, I'm off for Dixie,
Off for Dixie,
Off for Dixie,
Good-by, boys, I'm off for Dixie,
And sha'n't come back no more!"

Meanwhile, Mr. Schermerhorn had been superintending certain arrangements
for the provisioning of the camp, and presently a bugle call, sounded by
one of the stable men, summoned the regiment to prepare for dinner.

Peter took a bucket and went to draw some water; George and Harry made a
fire in the smoke house, which, after all the guesses, turned out to be
intended for the regimental kitchen; Jimmy and Tom were initiated into
the mysteries of frying ham and potatoes by the cook, and the rest set
the table (for the soldiers considered it a point of honor that they
should wait on themselves).

Amid high glee the table, consisting of a broad smooth plank placed upon
horses, was laid with the tin cup and plates, the pewter forks and
spoons, and horn-handled knives, which the boys carried in their
knapsacks just like real soldiers, after which the table was further
embellished by the remains of the rations they had brought with them,
disposed around wherever they thought the dishes would have the best
effect.

The grand feast of fried ham was ready at last, and the new cooks
presented themselves and it at table, very hungry and happy. Mrs.
Mincemeat, the fat cook, had made the boys each put on one of her blue
check aprons, tied under their chins, to save their uniforms; and when
they appeared in this new array, their faces as red and shining as a
stick of sealing wax, there was