't
hurt anybody with glancing bullets. Corp'l Elliott, you take the rest
and go round and gather the guns and other things, and pile them up
there by that tree to turn over to the ordnance officer. Hustle, now,
all of you."

"They didn't think they were digging their own graves," philosophized
Monty Scruggs, as he stood shovel in hand watching the remains being
gathered into the trench.

"He digged a ditch, he digged it deep;
He digged it for his brother,
But for his great sin he fell in
The ditch he'd digged for t'other."

"Good, good, Monty," said Si. "That's the best thing I've heard you
spout yit. Give us some more of it."

"There isn't any more of it. The only thing I can think of is:

"The rebel Solomon Grundy;
Born in Georgia on Monday;
Become a rebel on Tuesday;
Run off from Buzzard's Roost on Wednesday;
Got licked at Dalton on Thursday;
Worse whipped at Resaca on Friday;
Blown up by a shell on Saturday;
Died and buried on Sunday;
And this was the end of Solomon Grundy."

Alf Russell's interest in anatomy had led him to join Serg't Wilson's
party in gathering up the ghastly fragments of bodies, but the sights
were too much for his nerves, and as he perceived that he was growing
sick at the stomach he went over to Shorty's squad.

It was astonishing what things they found, besides guns and equipments.
Evidently, the rebels had left quite hurriedly, and many personal
belongings were either forgotten or could not be found in the darkness.
Samples of about everything that soldiers carry, and a good many that
they are not supposed to, were found lying around. There were cooking
utensils, some on the fire, with corn-pone and meat in them; some where
the imperative orders to march found their owners with their breakfasts
half-devoured; there were hats clumsily fashioned of wisps of long-leaved
pine sewed together; there were caps which had been jaunty red-and-blue
"Zouaves" when their owners had mustered around Nashville in 1861, but
had been faded and tarnished and frayed by the mud and rain at Donelson,
Shiloh and Stone River, and by the dust and grime of Perryville
and Chickamauga, until they had as little semblance to their former
perkiness as the grim-visaged war had to the picnic of capturing
ungarrisoned forts and lolling in pleasant Summer camps on the banks
of the Cumberland. There were coats of many patterns and stages of
dilapidat