other side of the river, only better-tasting. Why don't they give us real
soldier bread? I've heard Uncle Bob laugh at the 'soft-bread snoozers,'
who never got near enough the front to know the taste of hardtack."

"Well, I'm going to eat all I can of it while I can get it," said little
Pete Skidmore, the youngest and smallest of the lot, who had only passed
the Mustering Officer by exhibiting such a vehement desire to enter the
service as to make up for his probable lack of years and quite evident
lack of inches. "I've heard Uncle Will say that he was always mighty
glad to get back where he could get soft bread for a change, after he'd
worn his grinders down to the quick chawing hardtack. It tastes awful
good, anyway."

"The Government must pay big wages to the men it hires to do its
cooking," philosophized Harry Joslyn, "same as it does to its lawyers
and Congressmen and Generals. No common men could cook grub that way.
Mebbe it took the cooks away from the Astor House and Delmonico's."

"The boys are certainly making up for lost time," complacently remarked
Shorty, as, having taken off the edge of his own hunger with a plateful
of pork-and-beans and a half loaf of bread, he stopped for a moment
to survey the havoc that his young charges, ranged at a long, rough
counter, were making in the Commissary stores. "They're eatin' as if
this was the last square meal they expected to git till the rebellion's
put down."

"Yes," laughed Si, emptying his second cup of coffee, "I used to think
that we had appetites that'd browse a five-acre lot off clean every
meal, but these kids kin distance us. If they live off the country its
bones 'll be picked mighty white when they pass. That lean, lank Gid
Mackall seems to be as holler as a sassidge-skin. Even that wouldn't
give room for all that he's stowin' away."

"Harry Joslyn 's runnin' nose-and-nose with him. There ain't the width
o' their forelocks difference. Harry's yelled for more beans at the same
second that Gid has. In fact, not one of 'em has lagged. They're a great
gang, I tell you, but I wouldn't want to board any one of 'em for six
bits a week."

Maj. Oglesvie came up.

"Serg't Klegg," said he, "the Quartermaster says that he's got a train
load of ammunition to send forward, but he's scarce of guards. I thought
of your squad. Don't you think you could take charge of it? I don't
imagine there is much need of a guard, for things have been pretty
quiet down the roa