si and shorty get a much-needed wash-up.

"you can take it easy to-day, boys, for we ain't goin' to move!" said the orderly of co. q one morning at roll-call. "the orders is for to put the camp in nice shape, and for the men to wash up. we're goin' to have an extra ration of soap this mornin', and you fellows want to stir around lively and fix yerselves as if it was sunday and ye was goin' to meetin'. the fust thing after breakfast all hands 'll turn out and p'leece ther camp."

"what in the world does he mean by p'leecin' the camp?" corporal klegg asked shorty, as they stood by the fire making coffee and warming up the fragments of chicken that had been left over from supper the night before. "i didn't c'pose," said si, "that we 'listed to be p'leecemen!"

shorty replied that he didn't know, but he reckoned they'd find out soon enough. the 200th ind. had been on the jump every day since leaving louisville, and this was the first time it had been called on to "police" a camp.

as soon as breakfast was over the orderly directed each man to provide himself with a small bundle of sticks, made by putting together a dozen bits of brush or "switches" three or four feet long, such as are used to rural pedagogs to enforce discipline. these, he said, were the implements used in policing camp, which meant brushing the leaves and loose debris outside the grounds.

"does corprils have to do that sort o' thing?" asked si. he thought army regulations and camp usage ought to show some consideration for his rank. "what's the use of bein' a corporil," he said to himself, "if it don't give a feller a chance to play off once in a while?"

"corporals ain't no better'n anybody else," replied the orderly, "'n' you can jist git some brush and go to work, 'long with the rest!"

si was disposed to grumble a little, but he obeyed orders and was soon scratching up the leaves and dust with great zeal. he did not find it a particularly pleasant occupation, but the camp looked so much better when the job was done, that he thought it was not a bad thing, after all.

"now, shorty," said si, "let's go down to the creek and do our washin'. my clothes has got to be biled, and i shouldn't wonder if yourn had, too."

"yes, that's a fact!" said shorty.

they got a big camp-kettle that had been used, and would be again, for making bean-soup, and started for the stream back of the camp. they had no change of clothing with them. some days before, in order to lighten their knapsacks, they had taken out their extra shirts and drawers, tied them in a bundle, and put them on the company wagon, and this was somewhere back in the rear, owing to the confusion of the campaign.

"seems to me," observed si, "it ain't hardly a fair shake for uncle sam to make us do our washin'. they ought to confiscate the niggers 'n' set them at it; or i don't see why the guvyment can't furnish a washin' masheen for each comp'ny! 'twouldn't be no more'n the square thing!"

si was disposed to grumble 181

"the wimmen does the washin', ye know, si, up where we live," said shorty, "'n' i don't quite like the notion o' doin' that kind o' workt, but i can't jest see how we're goin' to git out of it. it's got to be done, that's sure!"

on the bank of the stream they quickly threw off their clothes for a bath. si cast rueful glances at his nether garments as he laid them on the ground.

"hadn't we better pile some rocks on 'em, shorty?" said he. i'm affeared if we don't they'll crawl off into the bush.

"guess we had," replied shorty. "i b'lieve mine's started already!"

having made sure of them, they plunged into the water. far up and down the stream were hundreds of men, swimming and splashing about.

the soldiers availed themselves of every opportunity to enjoy this luxury.

having thoroughly performed their ablutions. si and shorty turned their energies toward the clothes, which were in such sore need of soap and hot water. putting their garments into the kettle and filling it with water, they built a fire under it. after half an hour of vigorous boiling they concluded they were "done." plenty of soap, rubbing and rinsing finished the work, and the clothes sure presented a remarkable appearance, particularly the blue trousers.

"how're we going to git 'em dry?" asked si, as he wrung out the last of his "wash."

"hang 'em on the fence in the sun!" replied shorty.

"but what'll we wear while they're dryin'?"

"nothin', i reckon!"

so they spread out their garments, and then dashed again into the water. after splashing awhile they came out and drew on their half-dried trousers. shorty lighted his pipe as they sat down to wait for the sunshine to do its perfect work. all along the stream were soldiers in similar stages of dishabille. it seemed like the garden of eden.

showing the old man a trick 183

"say, shorty," said si, "'taint very wicked to smoke, is it?"

"guess not!" was the reply.

"that's the way it 'pears to me, 'n' i've been kinder thinkin' lately that i'd learn how. the soljers all seem to enjoy their smokin' so much. you know. shorty, that i was always a reel good boy—never smoked, nor chawed terbacker, nor cussed, nor done nothin' that was out o' the straight an' narrer way. when i jined the regiment my good old mother says to me: 'now, si,' says she, 'i do hope ye'll 'member what i've always taught ye. i've beam 'em tell that they does dretful things in the army, and i want ye to see if ye can't be as good a boy as ye've been at home.' of course, i told her i would, 'n' i mean, ter stick to it; but i don't b'lieve there's any harm in smokin'. is it hard to learn?"

"wall, i dunno; i reck'n ye can't most always tell till ye try. take a whiff, 'nd see how she goes!" and shorty handed him his pipe, which he had just refilled with whittlings of black "navy plug."

"derned if i don't try it!" said si, as he took the pipe and began to puff with great energy. he made a few wry faces at first, but shorty told him to stick to it, and he bravely pulled away while the clouds of smoke curled above him.

it was not long till the color left his face, his head was in a whirl, and his stomach began to manifest eruptive symptoms.

"shorty," he gasped, "i'm awful sick. if smokin' makes a feller feel like this i don't want any more of it in mine."

"where's all yer sand ye brag so much about?" said shorty, laughing. "you're mighty poor timber for a soljer if ye can't stand a little pipe o' terbacker like that. you'll get over it purty soon, and it won't bother ye any next time ye try it."

si found that he had on hand about as much as he could manage with his dizzy head and the rebellion that was so actively going on at a point a little lower in his physical system. the feeling wore gradually off, however, and by the time he was able to walk their clothes were well dried. they proceeded to "dress up," and then returned to camp.

during the afternoon the camp was visited by natives, black and white, from the region round about, with corn "pones," alleged pies, boiled eggs, and truck of various kinds, which they sought to dispose of for a valuable consideration. they struck a bad crowd, however, in a financial sense. the members of the 200th ind. were not at this time in a condition of opulence. most of them had spent what money they brought from home, and they had not been out long enough yet to receive a visit from the paymaster. the lank men and scrawny women cried their wares vociferously, but with indifferent results. the boys wanted the stuff, but they were "busted," and trade was dull.

si looked wistfully at the "pies," and suggested to shorty a joint investment. their purses were nearly empty, but the temptation was too strong to be resisted.

"them looks nice," said si. they were the first pies he had seen since leaving home, and his judgment was a little "off." as a matter of fact, it was only by the greatest stretch of courtesy that they could be called pies at all. but the word touched si in a tender spot, and he only thought of such as his mother used to make.

si and shorty "pooled in" and bought a pie. impatiently whipping out his pocket knife si tried to cut it in two. it was hard work, for the "crust"—so called—was as tough as the hide of a mule. by their united efforts they at length succeeded in sawing it asunder. it was a fearful and wonderful specimen of culinary effort. it was made of two slabs of sodden, leathery dough, with a very feeble layer of dried apples sandwiched between them.

si tried his teeth on the pie, but it was like trying to chew an old boot-leg.

"i say, old lady," said he, turning to the female of whom he had bought it, "is these pies pegged or sewed?"

"look a hyar, young feller," said the woman, with considerable vinegar in her tone, "p'raps you-uns-all thinks it's right smart to insult we-uns; it shows how yer wuz broughten up. i don't 'low yer ever seed any nicer dog-g-goned pies 'n them is. ye needn't try ter argify 'long 'th me, fur i kin jest knock the spots off'n any woman there is 'round here in cookin'."

si saw that it would be profitless to discuss the matter, and concluded to make the best of a bad bargain. but he wouldn't eat the pie.

on the whole, the hucksters fared rather badly. the boys confiscated most of the stuff that was brought in, promising to pay next time they came that way. there was a good deal of grumbling, but the trouble always ended in the soldiers getting the plunder.

the climax was reached when a putty-faced citizen drove into camp a bony mule tied with straps and ropes and strings to a crazy cart, on which was a barrel of cider, which he "allowed" to sell out to the boys at 10 cents a drink, or a quarter a canteen full. he had a spigot rigged up in one end and an old tin cup, with which he dealt out the seductive beverage to such as would pay.

a thirsty crowd gathered around him, but sales were slow, on account of the scarcity of money. si and shorty mingled with the boys, and then drew aside and engaged in a whispered consultation.

"that'll be jest bully!" said shorty. "if you can raise an auger somewhere we'll git the bulge on that old chap."

waiting for their clothes to dry 187

si returned after a brief absence, with an auger which he had borrowed from the driver of an ammunition wagon.

"now, shorty," said si, "you git the boys to stand around and keep up a racket, and i'll crawl under the cart and bore a hole into that 'ere barrel. then pass in yer canteens and army kettles 'n' we'll show the old man a trick!"

shorty quietly broached the scheme to a few of his comrades, who fell in with it at once. gathering around the cart, they cheered and chattered so as to drown any noise si might make while carrying out his plan, and which would "give it away."

it was not more than a minute till a gurgling sound was heard, and si began to pass out to the boys the buckets and canteens which they so freely furnished him, filled with the fast-flowing contents of the barrel. it didn't take long to empty it entirely, nor did the citizen discover the state of affairs until the cider no longer ran from the spigot.

he had not sold more than a gallon or two, and he was amazed when the liquid ceased to respond. then he resolved himself into an investigating committee, and after a protracted search he discovered the trick that had been played on him.

"wall, i'll be gosh-durned!" he exclaimed. "i've hearn tell 'bout yankee tricks, but dog my cats if this 'ere don't beat 'em all! i'd like to cut the gizzard outen the rascal that bored the hole in that bar'l!"

"i declare, old pard; that was mean!" said si, who stood looking on, with his hands in his trousers pockets, the very picture of innocence. "i'm jist goin' to flax 'round 'n' help ye find that feller. if i was you i'd pound the stuffin' out of him—when ye cotch him!"