The National tribune., 1899-06-01

| that shorter men have. Nature don't give
no man everything. What she gives to hi:
legs she takes off his head, my dad says"
"That's just because you're duck-legged
snipe," answered Gid wiathfully. Do you
mean to -
:" Don't make any slu.s at me, you spindle
legged sand-hil crane," retorted Harry.
This was enough. Blows came next. II
was their way Gid Mackall and Harry
,Joslyn had been inseparable companions
since they had begun going to school. and
they had scarcely ever let day pass with
ont fight. They could not be kept apart,
they seemed unhappy out of one anOther's
company. and vet they took opposite sides
on everything that came up. They were
everywhere and ali the time competitors and
rivals. The struggle to be at the head OF
their classes always lay between them; they
were the leaders of the opposing factions OF
school-boys; they captained the two sides at
I town-ball; when Gid Mackall's crowd built
a snow-fort, it was Harry Joslyn's band that
assaulted it. The moment that 81 and
Shorty had appeared within their horizon
| they had raised the issue OF which was the
better soldier, and made it matter of lively
partisanship.
| 81 and Shorty had been on the eager look
out for the indications of the position of the
army, for places that they could recognize,
and for giments. brigades and divisions
they were acquainted with, SO they did not
at first notice the squabble. Then they
pulled the boys asunder, shook them, and
scolded them for their conduct.
New emotions filled Sis and Shorty's
breasts. They had been away from their
regiment SO long that they were acutely
hOmesick to be back to it. Such is the
magic of military discipline and association
that their regimental flag had become the
center of their universe, and the real people
of their world the men who gathered around
it. Everything and everybody else was
subsidiary to that thing of wonderful sacred
ness" the regiment" They felt like wan
derers who had been away for years, and
were now returning to their proper home,
friends, associates, and vocation. Once more
under the Flag life would become again
what it should be, with proper objects of
daily interest, and the satisfactory perform
ance of everyday duties. They really be-
longed in the regiment, and everywhere else
were interlOpers, sojourners, strangers in a
strange land. They now sat together and
talked of the regiment as they had formerly
sat around the campfire with the other boys
and talked of their far-away homes. their
fathers and mothers, brothers and sisters and
sweethearts.
| They had last seen their regiment in the
fierce charge from the crest of Snodgrass Hill
The burning questions were who had sur
vived that terrible day? Who had been so
badly wounded as to lose his place on the
rolls? Who commanded the regiment and
the companies? Who filled the non-com-
missiOned Offices? What voices that once
rang out in command, on the drill-ground,
in camp and battle, were now silent, and
whose would be lifted instead?
| Pm afeared the old riJimint will never
fight agin as it did at Stone River and Chick
amauga," said 81 mOurnfully. "Too many
good men gone what made the rijimint what
it is"
| "Well, don't know about that" said
Shorty more hopefully. "They got two
mighty good nOn-cOmmish when they pro-
NOTED me and you. If they done as well in
the rest O. the promotions, the rijimint is all
right. Lord knows, I'd willingly give up
my stripes to poor Jim Sanders, if he could
come back; but guess 1 kin yank around
q squad as we'll as he done. This infant
some o. the boys that've turned up their
toes, but they average mighty well, and after
| we git some o. the cOltishness drilled out o.
'em they'll be a credit to the riiment."
The train finally halted on side-track in
the outskirts OF Chattanooga, under the
gigantic shadow of Lookout Mountain and
in the midst of an ocean of turmoiling ac-
tivity that made the eyes ache to look upon
1t, and awed every cac, even ST and Shorty,
with sense OF incOmprehensible immensity.