The National tribune. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1877-1917, 1902-06-12

over Il pile of shavings. Matches had long
since become rare luxury in the Southern
Confederacy, only obtainable by few for
| tunate ones. They made disheartening
! failures. After they had laboriously whit
| tied and split II proper quantity of shay
| ings. the man with the gun would be GER
tain, IN the darkness, TO get the muzzle
| too close to the pile. and blow it away,
| filling those near with splinters and every
| body with rage at his awkwardness.
A man had been left out in the road on
picket. and his heart was full of gall on
account of being obliged to stand out in
| the rain. and because of the botchery of
his comrades under the shed and in the
storeroom.
''Some OF you splay-handed. 1y-up-the-
cricks come out here and take my place"
he yelled, 'and let me come in and start
that thar fire. Yo-all can't do nothin', in
spite if yo-all live as long as Methusaleh.
I'm comm right in, anyway, fer I'm n
heap colder nor airy one o yo-all. an thar
hain't no sort o use o my stayin' out
here. nohow. The Yankees amt SIGH sur
giverous fools as to go traipsing round
sich night as this. They'll stay down
thar at the ford till mornin'."
You stay right whar you air. Bill
Goatsucker, till / relieve you. Don't you
burst stir a step from hit, or I'll tend to
commanding tones from the man who was
managing the gun. I've had my plum
fill of your foolishness today. and won't
stand mite more of hit Whar was you
pokin' round away from the foutT'
''Y're a-lyin'; want poSin' round out
en- the fout; was in hit more'n you was.
Jim Hogback," yelled the picket. I'D
bin back to the boat to see that hit was all
right but come back in time to fire the
,b.t hn ~, cbn ba
last one. too. l killed three or four Yam
KEGS, at least, which is much more'n you
done, you ole pOp-eye. You never could
hit nothin' in plumb daylight, you cross
eyed sandhiller."
IF you don't stop sassin' me. you clay
eatin' waterdog, I'll come out thar an
bust my gun over yer soggy haid," roared
the Sergeant, as he made another aggra-
waiting failure with the gun, and blew full
of singing spliners the hands of the man
who had been putting them in place.
why don't veal go down to the
boat? We can git under cover thar, at
least" said the picket mo use o. stay
in here in the rain. No Yankees comm
this way, an what if they did? They
couldn't git through the swamp back
thar"
IF you stir from yer post I'll jist shoot
you, so l WILL" roared Sers't Jim Hog
watch this crossin,' an we-all've got to do
hit. None o yer bizniss whether any Yam
KEGS is likely to come or not. Hits your
bizniss to stand gyard en- watch out, an
keep yer haid shet. You do that, or I'll
take yer head Off"
ST and Shorty riding forward through
the rain, heard the voices, stopped, dis
mounted. and walked on to the edge of
the creek.
after they had listened a minute. He
handed his reins to. 81 and waded for
ward into the water, keeping as much as
possible in the shadow Of the bushes.
There was little need of precaution, how
ever. The rush Of the water and the
dash of the rain drowned all sounds ex-
cept that Of the angry colloquy between
the rebels. The water reached Shorty's
knees, and then came up toward his hips,
found it Swallowing, though the force Of
the current was so great that he had to
walk slowly and carefully to keep his foot
ing. He reached the other side, and still
keeping in the shadow of the bushes, man.
aged to make out that the picket was
seated on a horse block, with his back to
him, and his face toward the stor4 which
he was watching with much interest, in
stead of the road.
1Ou IL ohool my manu- oh, JIM AIoSuuCh,
You ole blowhard, will your" shouted the
picket. "Well, hitll be the fust mans
that" -
Shorty had leaped forward, and tried
to come the garrote upon the picket, but
Shorty's clothes were heavy with water,
and fatigue had diminished his usual swift |
certainty. His wet arm landed on the |
rebels breast too far below his throat Il
I'm Yankee" Kissed Shorty, in the
rebels ear. make a sound and I'll kill
You right here"
Yankees! Yankees! Yankeesv' yelled |
the startled rebel at the top of his voice. |
Shorty's iron grip instantly frightened on
the rebels throat. When he thought he
had choked the life out of him, he flung
him to one side, and, raising his carbine,
jumped back into the bushes to avoid the
rush he knew that 81 would instantly
make with the rest Of the squad.
"Goll-dang hit, Yanks, why can't yo'-all
leave us alone little while" yelled out
Ssrg't Jim Hogback, as he ran out Of the
store, at the head Of his men, and fred
into the rushing mass he saw coming up J