Richmond daily palladium. [volume] (Richmond, Ind.) 1876-1904, 1889-12-16

/ RISK 10 run 10 cross that held, with
water and cotton, and we all knew 4;
but the word for a volunteer wasn't
out of cap'en's mouth before old Cod
jumped up.
I'll go STRIP saws he Il haven1
got no membranes to home, and ho
grInned So he started out with ten
canteens full of water slung onto him
and a bundle of cotton under his arm
Cool, says /, tryin' 10 act -
though l b'lieved he was certin sure
to get there you be real economical
about distributin' that water, becaune
it's got TO last 'em all day"
''Yo go long!" says he, showing hiD
white teeth, and off ne went.
Then the balls begun TO sing. We
dursn't go up the rise of ground forto
watch him, but after half an hour ono
man did venture to reconnoiter that
old field, and reported there wasn't
anybody lynn there, so we knew he'd
got TO the ravine like place whera the
men was. After he'd been away-a-
couple of hours he came back, Cool
did, as cool as ever.
Didn't hit We, did they7" says
Chaplin.
You bet they did, thought" says
Cool They put two ventilatin' holee
through the legs o my boots goin
over, and tore hole IN my trouser,
and one in my jacket sleeve a-comln'
hittin' me, an | dono as twas" says
he, laughin' For true, not one o.
them bullets had so much as drawed
drop of blo.,d
Twasn't very long after that we
was sent into the rifle pits, some or
US, with rations for twenty-four hours
How'd you like that boys. spendin' q
day and a night into a hole in tho
ground. with chunks of salt beef
Fold hoss" we called it-and tough
dry bareback to chaw ont
Twas ruther unpleasant; no way to
sleep exceptin up, and finally nothin,
to eat | don't blame the men; il
fact, | was quite a little riled myself
But Cool was as cool as q cucumber.
He ioked and laughed, and sang and
held up on his broad shoulders more'n
one sleepy, tired out head.
When some of 'em would make dis
paraging remarks he'd holler out:A
Come boys. stop growlin'l We're in
for the whole war; hoorayp and SO
he'd kind of heart us up.
He was always dom that; he was as
clever as a bobolink. Nobody was
sick or wounded but he was the first to
help, I've seen him give up his blanket
many time to some poor fellow
shakin' with a chill, and let another
burned up with wound fever drain
the last drop out of his canteen, when
nobody knew if we should get any
more water for hull day. And he.,
always made as though he hadn't done
nothin
Well. when this cruel war was
over, as the song says, and the regi-i
ment was mustered out, il come about
that Cool and took the same train tot
go home, though | lived way up in
Vermont and he was a Connecticut
boy and we sat together, | next to the !
window. !
He'd been as composed as a chap
lain at a funeral all those years, bull |
he seemed now as though he was on |
tenter hooks all the way. He wrastled |
about, and got up and sot down more'li
forty times, and never said two words
all the way; but when we Stacked up
and brakeman hollered out, Silver
bridgeT he gave me grip, froze onto I
his knapsack and give a rush. i
| looked out of the window, for,
thinks |, There's a girl waitin' for |
him, and he hasn't never let on about I
her."
Sure enough; there he was, his face
all broke up, as you may say, red as i
beet, holdin' out his arms to-a gray
old woman, tears runnin' down heS>{
f4.ce isl.s, froslnot. It " his -.oel-S.rtt
That was the last see of Old Cool.
Rose Terry Cooke in New York Mail
and Express.