he ranks, with my skin full of quinine and whisky, and watched the
other fellows.

There were men in the line who had never been sick a day since they
enlisted, big fellows that would fight all day, and stand picket all
night, and who never knew what it was to have an ache. And it was
amusing to see them appear to shake, and to act as though they had
chills. Some of them could not keep from laughing, and it was evident
that the doctor had his doubts about there being so many cases of
chills, but he dosed out the quinine and whisky as long as there was a
man who shook. As each man took his dose, he would show two expressions
on his face. One was an expression of hilarity at putting himself
outside of a good swig of whisky, and the other was an expression of
contempt for the bitter quinine, and an evident wish that the drug
might be left out. When all had been served, they lingered around the
surgeon's quarters, talking with each other and laughing, others formed
on for a stag quadrille, and danced, while a nigger fiddled. Some
seemed to feel as though they wanted some one to knock a chip off
their shoulders, old grudges were talked over, and several fights were
prevented by the interference of friends who were jolly and happy, and
who did not believe in fighting for fun, when there was so much fighting
to be done in the way of business. The old doctor walked up and down in
front of his tent in a deep study. He was evidently thinking over
the epidemic of ague that had broken out in a healthy regiment, and
speculating as to its cause. Suddenly an idea seemed to strike him, and
he walked up to a crowd of his patients, who were watching a couple of
athletes, who had just taken their quinine, and who had put on boxing
gloves and were pasting each other in the nose. "One moment," said the
old doctor. The boys stopped boxing, and every last "sick" man listened
respectfully to what the old doctor said; "Boys," said he, "you have got
it on me this time. I don't believe a confounded one of you have got
ague at all. You 'shook me' for the whisky. After this, quinine will
be dealt out raw, without any whisky, and now you can shake all you
please." Some one proposed three cheers for the boys that had made Uncle
Sam stand treat, and the cheers were given, and the boys separated to
talk over the event. The next morning only the usual number of sick were
in attendance at surgeon's call. The healthy fellows didn't want to take
quinine ra