and the other boys made it mighty lovely for him.
one day while buell was chasing bragg, two or three weeks after leaving louisville, the army was pushing forward at a gait that made the cavalry ahead trot half the time to keep out of the way of the infantry. the extraordinary speed that day was due to the fact that there were no rebels in sight. half a dozen ragged troopers with shotguns, a mile away, would have caused the whole army to halt, form line-of-battle, and stay thera the rest of the day.
the tanned veterans didn't mind the marching. they stretched their legs and went swinging along with a happy-go-lucky air, always ready for anything that might turn up. but it was rough on the new troops, just from home. it taxed their locomotive powers to the utmost limit.
the boys of the 200th ind. started out bravely. their fresh, clean faces, new uniforms, and shiny accouterments contrasted strongly with those of the weather-beaten soldiers of '61. you could tell a "tenderfoot" as far as you could see him.
they trudged along in fair shape for an hour or two. before starting in the morning strict orders had been read to the regiment forbidding straggling, for any reason, under the most terrifying pains and penalties.
"them fellers that's been in the service longer 'n we have think they're smart," said si klegg, as he and shorty plodded on, both already a little blown. "well show 'em that we can hoof it jest as fast as they can, and jest as fur in a day!"
"seems to me we're git'n over the ground party lively to-day," replied shorty, who was in a grumbling mood. "wonder if the gin'ral thinks we're bosses! i'm a little short o' wind, and these pesky gunboats are scrapin' the bark off'n my feet; but i'll keep up or bust."
though e spirit of these young patriots was willing, the flesh was weak. it wasn't long till si began to limp. now and then a groan escaped his lips as a fresh blister "broke." but si clinched his teeth, humped his back to ease his shoulders from the weight of his knapsack, screwed up his courage, and tramped on over the stony pike. he thought the breathing spells were very short and a long way apart.
si's knapsack had experienced the universal shrinkage, as told in a previous chapter of our hero's martial career. he still had, however, a good many things that he thought he couldn't spare, but which he found later he could very well get along without.
by noon the 200th began to show signs of going to pieces. the column stretched out longer and longer, like a piece of india-rubber. the ranks looked thin and ragged. lame and foot-sore, with wo-begone faces, their bodies aching in every bone and tendon, and overcome with a weariness that no one can realize unless he has "been there," the men dropped out one by one and threw themselves into the fence-corners to rest. the officers stormed and drew their swords in vain. nature—that is, the nature of a new soldier—could endure no more. the ambulances were filled to their utmost, but these would not hold a twentieth part of the crippled and suffering men.
"how're ye gittin' on, shorty?" said si, as he and his comrade still struggled along.
"fair to middlin'," replied shorty. "i'm goin' to try and pull through!"
"i thought i could," said si, "but i'm 'bout played out! i am, fer a fact! i guess ef i rest a bit i'll be able to ketch up after a while."
si didn't know till he found out by experience how hard it was to "ketch up" when a soldier once got behind on the march. si was too fat for a good roadster, but it didn't take a great while to work off his surplus flesh. shorty was tall and slim, mostly bone—one of the sort that always stood the marching best, crept up to the orderly and told him that he would have to stop and puff a while and give his blisters a rest. he'd pull up with co. q in an hour or so.
"better not, si" said the orderly; "ye know it's agin orders, and the rear-guard 'll punch ye with their bay'net's if they catch ye stragglin'."
but si concluded that if he must die for his country it would be sweeter to do so by having a bayonet inserted in his vitals, and then it would be all over with at once, than to walk himself to death.
so he gradually fell back till he reached the tail of the company. watching his opportunity, he left the ranks, crept into a clump of bushes, and lay down, feeling as if he had been run through a grist-mill. soon the rear-guard of the 200th came along, with fixed bayonets, driving before them like a flock of frightened sheep a motley crowd of limping, groaning men, gathered up by the roadside.
si lay very still, hoping to escaoe discovery; but the keen eye of the officer detected the blue heap among the bushes.
"bring that man out!" said he sternly to one of the guards.
poor si scarcely dare to breathe. he hoped the man would think he was dead, and therefore no longer of any account. but the soldier began to prod him with his bayonet, ordering him to get up and move on.
'don't stab me.' 123
"look-a-here, pard," said si, "don't stab me with that thing! i jest can't git along any furder till i blow a little. you please lemme be, an' i'll do as much for you. p'rhaps some time you'll get played out and i'll be on the rear-guard. the cap'n 'll tell me ter fotch ye 'long, an' i'll jest let ye rest, so i will!"
this view of the case struck the guard with some force. moved with compassion, he turned away, leaving si to enjoy his rest.
hydropathic treatment 125
si threw aside his traps, took off his shoes and stockings, and bathed his feet with water from his canteen. he ate a couple of hardtack, and in the course of half an hour began to feel more like si klegg. he geared himself up, shouldered his gun, and started to "ketch up."
all this time the stream of troops—regiments, brigades and divisions—had flowed on. of course, soldiers who were with their colors had the right of way, and the stragglers were obliged to stumble along as best they could, over the logs and through the bushes at the sides of the roads or skirt along the edges of the fields and woods adjoining. it was this fact added to their exhausted and crippled condition, that made it almost impossible for stragglers to overtake their regiments until they halted for the night. even then it was often midnight before the last of the wayfarers, weary and worn, dragged their aching limbs into camp.
si started forward briskly, but soon found it was no easy matter to gain the mile or so that the 200th ind. was now ahead of him. it was about all he could do to keep up with the fast-moving column and avoid failing still further to the rear. presently the bugles sounded a halt for one of the hourly rests.
"now," said si to himself, "i'll have a good chance to git along tor'd the front. the soljers 'll all lie down in the fence corners an' leave the road clear. i'll jest git up an' dust!"
the sound of the bugles had scarcely died away when the pike was deserted, and on either side, as far as the eye could reach, the prostrate men that covered the ground mingled in a long fringe of blue.
si got up into the road and started along the lane between these lines of recumbent soldiers. his gait was a little shaky, for the blisters on his feet began to give evidence of renewed activity. he trudged pluckily along, limping some in spite of himself, but on the whole making very good headway.
pretty soon he struck a veteran regiment from illinois, the members of which were sitting and lying around in all the picturesque and indescribable postures which the old soldiers found gave them the greatest comfort during a "rest." then they commenced—that is, it was great sport for the sucker boys, though si did not readily appreciate the humorous features of the scene.
"what rigiment is this?" asked si, timidly.
"same old rijiment!" was the answer from half a dozen at once. a single glance told the swarthy veterans that the fresh-looking youth who asked this conundrum belonged to one of the new regiments, and they immediately opened their batteries upon him:
"left—left-=left!"
"hayfoot—strawfoot! hayfoot—strawfoot!" keeping time with si's somewhat irregular steps.
"hello, there, you! change step and you'll march easier!"
"look at that 'ere poor feller; the only man left alive of his regiment! great cesar, how they must have suffered! say, what rijiment did you b'long to?"
"paymaster's comin', boys, here's a chap with a pay-roll round his neck!" si had put on that morning the last of the paper collars he had brought from home.
"you'd better shed that knapsack, or it'll be the death of ye!"
"i say, there, how's all the folks to home?"
"how d'ye like it as far as you've got, any way?"
"git some commissary and pour into them gunboats!"
"second relief's come, boys; we can all go home now."
"grab a root!"
"hep—hep—hep!"
"how'd ye leave mary ann?"
si had never been under such a fire before. he stood it as long as he could, and 'then he stopped.
"halt!" shouted a chorus of voices. "shoulder—arms!" "order—arms!"
by this time si's wrath was at the boiling point. casting around him a look of defiance, he exclaimed:
"you cowardly blaggards; i can jest lick any two of ye, an' i'll dare ye to come on. if the 200th ind. was here we'd clean out the hull pack of ye quicker'n ye can say scat!"
this is where si made a mistake. he ought to have kept right on and said nothing. but si had to find out all these things by experience, as the rest of the boys did.
si defies a regiment 129
all the members took a hand in the game. they just got right up and yelled, discharging at si a volley of expletives and pointed remarks that drove him to desperation. instinctively he brought up his gun.
"load in nine times—load!" shouted a dozen of the illinois tramps.
if si's gun had been loaded he would have shot somebody, regardless of consequences. thinking of his bayonet, he jerked it quickly from its scabbard.
"fix—bay'net!" yelled the ragged veterans.
and he did, though it was more from the promptings of his own hostile feelings than in obedience to the orders.
"charge—bay'net!"
si had completely lost control of himself in his overpowering rage. with blood in his eye, he came to, a charge, glancing fiercely from one side of the road to the other, uncertain where to begin the assault.
instantly there was a loud clicking all along the line. the illinois soldiers, almost to a man, fixed their bayonets. half of them sprang to their feet, and all aimed their shining points at the poor young hoosier patriot, filling the air with shouts of derision.
it was plain, even to si in his inflamed state of mind, that the odds against him were too heavy.
"unfix—bay'net!" came from half the regiment.
si concluded he had better get out of a bad scrape the best way he could. so he took off his bayonet and put it back in its place. he shouted words of defiance to his tormentors, but they could not be heard in the din.
"shoulder—arms!" "right—face!" "right shoulder shift—arms!" "forward—march!" these commands came in quick succession from the ranks amidst roars of laughter.
si obeyed the orders and started off.
"left—left—left!"
"hayfoot—strawfoot!"
forgetting his blisters. si took the double-quick while the mob swung their caps and howled with delight.
si didn't "ketch up" with the 200 ind. until after it had gone into camp. shorty had a quart of hot coffee waiting for him.
"shorty," said si as they sat by the fire,—"i'm goin' to drop dead in my tracks before i'll fall out again."
"why, what's the matter?"
"oh, nothin'; only you jest try it," said si.
had it not been for the "fun" the soldiers had in the army to brighten their otherwise dark and cheerless lives, they would all have died. si was a true type of those who had to suffer for the good of others until they learned wisdom in the school of experience.
