but now he must go off somewhere where he could be alone with his
letter, and to the amazement of all the spectators he made no reply to
the teamster's gibes, but holding the{159} precious envelope firmly in
his hand, strode off to the seclusion of a neighboring laurel thicket.

His first thought, as he sat down and looked the envelope over again,
was shame that it had come to him when he was under the influence of
drink. He remembered the writer's fervent Christianity, and it seemed
to him that it would be a gross breach of faith for him to open and
read the letter while the fumes of whisky were on his breath. He had a
struggle with his burning desire to see the inside of the envelope,
but he conquered, and put the letter back in his pocket until he was
thoroughly sober.

But he knew not what to do to fill up the time till he could
conscientiously open the letter. He thought of going back and fulfilling
his long-delayed purpose of thrashing Groundhog, but on reflection this
scarcely commended itself as a fitting prelude.

He heard voices approaching--one sympathetic and encouraging, the other
weak, pain-breathing, almost despairing. He looked out and saw the
Chaplain helping back to the hospital a sick man who had over-estimated
his strength and tried to reach his company. The man sat down on a rock,
in utter exhaustion.

Shorty thrust the letter back into his blousepocket, sprang forward,
picked the man up in his strong arms, and carried him bodily to the
hospital. It taxed his strength to the utmost, but it sobered him and
cleared his brain.

He returned to his covert, took out his letter, and again scanned its
exterior carefully. He actually feared to open it, but at last drew his
knife and carefully slit one side. He unfolded the inclosure as{160}
carefully as if it had been a rare flower, and with palpitating heart
slowly spelled out the words, one after another:

[Illustration: SHORTY READING THE LETTER 160]

"Bad Ax, Wisconsin,

"April the Twenty-First, 1863.

"Mister Daniel Elliott, Company Q, 200th Indiana Volunteer
Infantry.

"Respected Sir: I taik my pen in hand toe inform you that I
am wel, and hoap that you aire in joying{161} the saim
blessing. For this, God be prazed and magnified forever."

"Goodness, how religious she is," said he, stopping to ruminate. "How
much nicer it makes a woman to be pious. It don't hurt a man much to
be a cuss--at least while