I didn't come back here from the front to be monkeyed with by
a passel o' fellers that wear white gloves and dresscoats, and eat soft
bread. Go off, and 'tend your own bizniss, and I'll 'tend to mine."

The Sergeant turned back and looked at him attentively.

"See here," he said, after a moment's pause.

"Don't you belong to the 200th Ind.?"

"You bet I do. Best regiment in the Army o' the Cumberland."

"You're the feller they call Shorty, of Co. Q?"

Shorty nodded assent.

"I thought I'd seen you somewhere, the moment I laid eyes on you,"
said the Sergeant in a friendly tone. "But I couldn't place you. You've
changed a good deal. You're thinner'n a fishing-rod."

"Never had no meat to spare," acquiesced Shorty, "but I'm an Alderman
now to what I was six weeks ago. Got a welt on my head at Chickamaugy,
and then the camp fever at Chattanoogy, which run me down till I
could've crawled through a greased flute."

"Well, I'm Jim Elkins. Used to belong to Co. A," replied the Sergeant.
"I recollect your stealing the caboose door down there at Murfreesboro.
Say, that was great. How that conductor ripped and swore when he found
his door was gone. I got an ax from you. You never knew who took it, did
you? Well, it was me. I wanted the ax, but I wanted still more to show
you that there was somebody in the camp just as slick on the forage
as you were. But I got paid for it. The blamed old ax glanced one day,
while I was chopping, and whacked me on the knee."

"A thief always gits fetched up with," said Shorty, in a tone of
profound moralizing. "But since it had to go I'm glad one o' our own
boys got it. I snatched another and a better one that night from the
Ohio boys. I'm awful sorry you got hurt. Was it bad?"

"Yes. The doctors thought I'd lose my leg, and discharged me. But I got
well, and as soon as they'd take me I re-enlisted. Wish I was back in
the old regiment, though. Say, you'll have to go to Headquarters with
me, because that's orders, but you just walk alongside o' me. I want to
talk to you about the boys."

As they walked along, the Sergeant found an opportunity to say in low
tone, so that the rest could not hear:

"Old Billings, who used to be Lieutenant-Colonel, is Provost-Marshal.
He's Lieutenant-Colonel of our regiment. He'll be likely to give you a
great song and dance, especially if he finds out that you belonged to
the old regiment. But don't let it sink too deep on you. I'll stand by
you, if the