Si Klegg Experiences Of Si And Shorty On The Great Tullahoma Campaign Part 23

"Never mind where I learned," answered Shorty. "I learned enough to git away with any English man that ever chawed roast beef."

Again they closed, and sparred quick and hard for advantage, but neither succeeded in getting in any thing but light, ineffective blows. Each realized that the other was a dangerous man to handle, and each kept cool and watched his chances. When they took another second to breathe the Englishman said:

"I'm goin' to settle ye this time, young feller, in spite o' yer fibbin'. Ye peck around me like a c.o.c.k pickin' up corn, but I'll bust ye. Look hout for yerself."

He made a savage rush to break through Shorty's guard by main force, but Shorty evaded him by a quick movement, the Englishman struck his toe against a piece of railroad iron, and fell to his knees. Shorty had him at his mercy, but he merely stepped back a little further, and waited for his opponent to rise and regain his position before he again advanced to the attack.

The Englishman lost his coolness. Again he rushed savagely at Shorty, with less care in his guard. Shorty evaded his mighty blow, and reaching up under his guard struck him on the chin so hard that the Englishman fell like an ox.

Shorty took him by the hand and helped him to his feet. "Do you want any more? Have you got enough?" he asked.

"Yes, Hi've got enough," answered the English man. "I'm too groggy to go on. Hi've been drink-in' a bit too much to 'andle myself wi' a first-cla.s.s man like yerself. Y've downed me, and y've downed me fair, for Hi'm not the man to whimper about not being fit. There's my hand.

We're friends. We'll try hit again some day, when Hi've got the likker out o' me; won't we?"

"Certainly, whenever you like," said Shorty, shak ing hands with him.

"Say, cul," said the Englishman, in the friendliest sort of way, "w'at was ye wantin' around among my men?"

"To tell you the truth," answered Shorty, "I was after them to enlist with us. We lost five men in the shuffle at Nashville, and I was lookin'

out for some to take their places.

"That's w'at I thort," said the Englishman. "That's w'at I was afraid of. The 'ead bridge man 'as bin preachin' to me ever since 'e 'ired me, hand we made hup the gang in New York, to look hout hand keep my men from bein' enlisted. Say, youngster, his yours a good regiment?"

"The very best in the army," unhesitatingly as serted Shorty. "All free-born American citizens, and high-toned gentlemen. I tell you, they're daisies, they are."

"Hi don't 'know," said the Englishman meditatively, "but Hi'd like to see a little bit o' fightin' myself. Bridge buildin's 'eavy, 'ard work, and Hi wouldn' mind sojerin' a little while for a change."

"Come right along with me and this man," said Shorty catching on.

"You'll see the purtiest fighting to be found anywhere in the army, for the 200th Injianny kin do it up to the Queen's taste. And we'll treat you white. A better set o' boys never lived."

"Hi'll do hit," said the Englishman decidedly.

"Mebbe," suggested Shorty, remembering that this would still leave them four short, "some o' your gang'd like to come along with you."

"Some o' them," said the Englishman earnestly. "Hevery bloomin' one o'

them 'as got to go. They've got to volunteer. Hif Hi find hany cowardly bloke that'd rather be a beastly bridge-builder than a gentleman and a sojer, I'll pound 'is 'ead offen 'im. They'll all volunteer, I tell ye, w'en Hi speak to 'em."

Si had been quietly talking to the rest of the gang while this conversation was going on, and discovered a general willingness to exchange mechanical pursuits for those of a more martial character, and so when they left the train at Chattanooga, Lieut. Bowersox marched at the head of 130 recruits, instead of the 103 with whom he had crossed the Ohio River.

CHAPTER XV. KEYED UP FOR ACTION

MARCHING INTO THE BATTLE OF CHICKAMAUGA.

ALL of that eventful 19th of September, 1864, the men of Lieut.

Bowersox's detachment were keyed up with the knowledge that they were heading straight for a desperate battle, and the main fear with Si, Shorty and the great majority was that they would not reach the field in time to take a hand in the affray. It seemed that never ran a locomotive at such a snail's pace as their engine was compelled to do over the wretched road bed and improvised bridges. The engineer, stimulated by the excitement and the urgent messages at every station, was doing his very best, but his engine was ditched once and narrowly escaped it a hundred times. The only curb to their impatience was the absolute knowledge that an attempt at faster running would result in not getting there in time at all.

At every stopping place news from the front was eagerly sought for and canva.s.sed. It was at all times aggressively meager. All that could be learned was that the whole rebel army was out on the Chickamauga some miles from Chattanooga, and savagely attacking the Union army to drive it away and recapture the town.

The news was generally very encouraging. Every attack of the rebels had been repulsed, though our own loss had been heavy. But every man was needed. The rebel lines extended far beyond those of the Union army in each direction, and still they had enough for heavy a.s.saulting columns.

Everybody in the neighborhood of Chattanooga had been ordered up, leaving only the meagerest possible guards for the trains and communications.

This increased the burning impatience of the boys to get where they could be of service. But it was far into the night when they finally skirted the frowning palisades of Lookout Mountain, and went into bivouac on the banks of Chattanooga Creek. All of the squad wanted guns, and Si and Shorty had been desperately anxious to get them for them.

At the stopping places were squads of guards, men more or less sick, and men on detached duty. Whereever Si or Shorty's sharp search could find a gun not actually in use, or not likely to be, it was pretty sure, by some means or other, either openly or surrept.i.tiously, to be gotten into the hands of one of the squad. In this way, by the time they arrived at Chattanooga, they had nearly half their men armed, and had given them some preliminary instruction in handling their guns. The Indianians needed little so far as loading and firing, for they were all natural marksmen, but to the Englishman and his Irish squad the musket was a thing of mystery and dread.

"An' is that the goon for me?" said one of the Irishmen contemptuously, as Si proudly handed him a trusty Springfield he had found unwatched some where. "That fool thing wid a bore no bigger'n a gimlet hole? Fwhy, out in the ould country, when we go man-hunting, we take a goon wid a mouth like a funnel, that ye can put a hat full av b.a.l.l.s inter. To the divil wid such a goon as this."

"Fix your mind on learnin' the kinks o' that gun, Barney," advised Shorty. "One ball from it put in the right place 'll do more than a hat full from your old Irish blunderbuss. A man that gits only one from it won't need nothin' more'n a head stone and his name crossed offen the roster. Git a good squint at him through them sights, jest be low his belt, hold stiddy while you pull the trigger, and his name 'll be mud."

"But fwhere is the powdher to make the ball go?" persisted Barney, looking at the cartridge which Shorty had put in his hand.

"The powder is behind the ball in that paper bag," explained Shorty.

"You tear the paper with your teeth this way, and pour the powder into the muzzle."

"Fhat," said Barney contemptuously, surveying the cartridge. "There isn't enough powdher there to throw a ball as far as Oi can a pebble. Fwhy, Oi used to put a whole handful o' powdher in the old blunderbuss. Oi wud do betther to whack a man wid a shillelah. And fwhere is the flint to stroike foire?"

"O, the flintlock's played out, you flannel-mouthed Irishman," said Shorty irritably. "It's as out-of-date as a bow and arrer. This's a percussion-lock; don't you understand? This is a cap. You stick it right on this nipple, an' when the hammer goes down off goes your gun. Don't you see?"

"Well, you can say, maybe, an' maybe you can't But Oi can't. Take your old goon. Oi'll none avit.

"May the divil fly away wid it, an' wid you, too. Oi'd rather have a good shtick. Wid a shtick in me fist Oi'll take care of ony spalpeen fwhat'll stand up in front av me. But wid a fool goon loike that Oi'd be kilt at wance."

While Si and Shorty were still worrying about what to do for arms for the remainder of their men, they heard what seemed to be about a company marching toward them through the darkness.

"I suppose we had better stop here and stack our arms out of the way,"

they heard the officer say who seemed to be in command. "We've got an all-night's job before us, fixing up that bridge, and getting those wagons across. Stack arms, boys, and leave your belts and traps with them. There's lots of work down there for us."

They could see dimly the men obeying the orders, and going down the bank of the creek, where they started large fires to light them at their work.

"They have got a job ahead of 'em," remarked Shorty, looking in the direction of the fires.

"It'll take 'em all night and a large part o' tomorrow," said Si, significantly, as a thought entered his mind.

"Indeed it will," accorded Shorty, as the same idea occurred to him.

"An' they won't need their guns. They're only pioneers, anyway."

"If they do," chimed in Si, "they kin pick up plenty more just as good around somewhere, when daylight comes. That's what pioneers is for."

"Si, you ketch on like a he snappin' turtle," said Shorty joyfully.

"We'll jest help ourselves to them guns and cartridge-boxes, and then move our camp over a little ways, and skeet out airly in the mornin' for the front, and we'll be all right. Don't say nothin' to the Lieutenant about it. He'll be all right, and approve of it, but he mustn't know anything of it officially. You git the men up and I'll go over and give the Lieutenant the wink and tell him that we've found a much better bivouac about a mile further on."

While the pioneers were struggling with their task, and the air down by the creek was filled with shouts and commands, Si and Shorty, with some of the others, quietly appropriated enough stands of arms to complete the equipment of their squad.

Shorty took much credit for his honesty and forbearance that he did not touch a single one of the pioneers' belongings but their arms. A little later the squad was in bivouac a mile away.

At the earliest dawn of Sept. 20 they were awake, and after a hasty breakfast moving out the Rossville road for the battlefield. Only an occasional shot from a nervous picket, peering into the deep fog, or angry spatter from a squad of scouting cavalry disturbed the stillness of the beautiful Autumn morning. The bright rays of the level sun were bringing out the rich tints of the maples and dog woods on the mountain-sides in all their gorgeous richness. Nature was smiling so benignantly on every side that it needed the turmoil and rush in the winding roads to remind one that somewhere near men were in bitter contrast with her divine serenity. But the roads were crowded with ammunition and ration wagons pushing out to the front, and with mounted officers and Orderlies making their way as rapidly as possible back and for ward with orders and messages.