he rest
around, and has his own tent, all by himself, and his servant to cook
for him, and we have to salute him, and do jest what he says, and not
talk back--at least, so he kin hear it, and jest lots o' things."

"Then I don't like him a bit," pouted Annabel. "He's a horrid, stuck-up
thing, and puts on airs. And he hain't got no business to put on airs
over you. Nobody's got any right to put on airs over you, for you're as
good as anybody alive."

Si saw that this task of making Annabel under stand the reason for
military rank was going to take some time, and could be better done when
they were by themselves, and he took her out by the kitchen-fire to make
the explanation.

For the very first time in his whole life Shorty had run away from
a crisis. With his genuine love of fighting, he rather welcomed any
awkward situation in which men were concerned. It was a challenge to
him, and he would carry himself through with a mixture of brass, bravado
and downright hard fighting. But he would have much more willingly faced
the concentrated fire of all the batteries in Bragg's army than Maria's
eyes as she raised them from that letter; and as for the comments of her
sharp tongue--well, far rather give him Longstreet's demons charging
out of the woods onto Snodgrass Hill. He walked out into the barn, and
leaned against the fanning-mill to think it all over. His ears burned
with the imagination of what Maria was saying. He was very uncomfortable
over what the rest of the family were thinking and saying, particularly
the view that dear old Mrs. Klegg might take. With the Deacon and Si it
was wholly different. He knew that, manlike, they averaged him up, one
day with another, and gave him the proper balance to his credit. But
Maria--there everything turned to gall, and he hated the very name of
Bad Ax, the whole State of Wisconsin and everybody in it. He would never
dare go back into the house and face the family. What could he do?
There was only one thing--get back to his own home, the army, as soon as
possible.

Little Sammy Woggles came out presently to get some wood. Shorty called
him to him. There was something fascinatingly mysterious in his tones
and actions to that youth, who devoured dime novels on the sly.

"Sammy," said Shorty, "I'm goin' away, right off, and I don't want the
people in the house to know nothin' of it. I want you to help me."

"You bet I will," responded the boy, with his eyes dancing. "Goin'
to