The National tribune., 1899-08-17
did.r,k hets

go;n, 70 fight Whole passefof rehsi eavalrys
STh-hnmr~ assented Shorty, cudgeling
his brain as to what he should next write.
"Them's them awful kind o rebels, amt
thsy-the John Morgan kind-that ride big
horses that snort fire, and they have long
swords, with which they chop mems heads
offg'
"A lot o yellin', gallopin' riff-.aff," said
Shorty, with the usual contempt of an in
fantryman for cavalry. "Ain't worth the
fodder their hosses eat"
"Ain't they terribler than any other kind
O. rebels?" asked Pete, anxiously.
"Naah," said Shorty, sharply. go to
sleep, Pete, and don't bother me with no
more questions. I'm writin' a letter" He
proceeded with his literary effort:
81 was gladder than kin tell You to git
yore letter. You do write the lest letters Of
any woman in the whole worid"-
He looked up. and there was little Pete's
face before him.
What do you do when one o. them wild
rebels comes cavorting and tearing toward
you. on a big hoss. with long sword, and
yelling like a catamount?' he asked.
Paste him with bullet, and settle him."
said Shorty testify, for he wanted to go on
with his letter.
But s'pose he comes on you when your
gun amt loaded, and his sword is, oryou'ye
| missed him, as did that hog|
Put on your bayouet and prod his hoss
| in the breast, and then give him 18 inches
O cold steel Thatlf settle him. Go and
lay down, Pete, l tell you. Don't disturb
me. Don't you see I'm writin'|
Shorty went on with his letter:
How wish you wood rite offener. Ide
| like to git a letter from you every
| Say, Corpril, broke in little Pete. They
say that them rebel cavalry kin reach
much further with their swords when
your gun and bayonit, especially when
you're little feler like me. and they're
lquicker'n wildcats, and there's just mil
lions of 'em, and'-
who says" said Shorty savagely.
you little open-mouthed squad, are you
llettin' them lyin', gaSsin' galoots back
there fill you up with roorbacks about them
triffin', howlin', gallopin' rebel cavalry?
Go back there, and tell 'em that if keteh
another man breathin' word to you about
the rebel cavalry III come and mash his
head as fiat as a pancake. Don't you be
scared about rebel cavalry. You're in
much more danger o bein' struck by light
MIN than of boin' hit by rebel on hOss-
back. Go off and go to sleep, now, and
don't ask me no more questions"
Cant ask You Just one:" pleaded Pete.
"Yes, just one"
"If we form holler square agin cavalry
viii. be in the holler, or up on the banksY
For the first time i'll his life, Shorty re-
strained the merciless jeer that would come
to his lips at any exhibition of weakness by
tflOSe dTOuffu HIDl. L he tDOuRnt Oh
softened him and made him more SYM
pathetic. He had promised her to be
second father to little Pete He saw that
the poor boy was being frightened as he had
never been before by the malicious fun OF
the veterans in pouring into his ears stories
of the awful character of the rebel cavalry.
Shorty sucked the ink off his pen. put his
hand soothingly on Pete, and said in
paternally comforting way:
My boy, don't let them blowhards back
| there stuff you with sich nonsense about the
rebel cavalry. They won't git near enough
| YOU to hit you with sword half mile long.
They're like yaller dogs-their bark's the
wust thing about 'em. I'll look out for
you. You'll stay right by me, all the time,
and you won't git hurt. You go back there
| to my blankits and crawl into 'em and go to
sleep. I'll be there as soon's finish this
| letter. Forgit all about the rebel cavalry,
and go to sleep. Ter-morrer you'll see
every mothers son O. them rebels breakin'
their hoss' necks to git out o range o our
Springfields."
Then Shorty finished his letter:
=. Time doin' my best to be second father
to little Pete. Heze as good a little soul as
everzlived, but when | talk another boy to
raise it'll be sumwhair else than in the
army.
"Yores. till deth."
just then the silver-voiced bugles in
hundreds of camps on mountain-sides, in
glenS, in the valleys, and on the plains be
gan ringing out the sweetly mournful
TAPS" and the echoes reverberated from
the towering palisades OF Lookout to the
rocky cliffs of the Pigeon Mountains.
1t was the last general Taps" that
mighty army would hear for 100 days Of
stormy battling.
The cheering ceased, the bonfires burned
out. Shorty put his letter In an envelope,
directed it, and added it to the heap at the
Chaplain's tent.
Then he went hack and arranged his
things so that he could lay his hands un-
failingly on them in the darkness of the
morning, Strengthened little Pete out so that
he would lie easier, and crawled in beside
him.
CTo be continued.)