small, no one seems anxious to
leave the small certainty and go in search of the large uncertainty of
supper from some farmer's well-filled table; but at last several
comrades start out, and as they disappear the preparations for immediate
consumption commence. The meat is too little to cook alone, and the
flour will scarcely make six biscuits. The result is that "slosh" or
"coosh" must do. So the bacon is fried out till the pan is half full of
boiling grease. The flour is mixed with water until it flows like milk,
poured into the grease and rapidly stirred till the whole is a dirty
brown mixture. It is now ready to be served. Perhaps some dainty fellow
prefers the more imposing "slapjack." If so, the flour is mixed with
less water, the grease reduced, and the paste poured in till it covers
the bottom of the pan, and, when brown on the underside, is, by a nimble
twist of the pan, turned and browned again. If there is any sugar in
camp it makes a delicious addition.

About the time the last scrap of "slapjack" and the last spoonful of
"slosh" are disposed of, the unhappy foragers return. They take in the
situation at a glance, realize with painful distinctness that they have
sacrificed the homely slosh for the vain expectancy of apple butter,
shortcake, and milk, and, with woeful countenance and mournful voice,
narrate their adventure and disappointment thus: "Well, boys, we have
done the best we could. We have walked about nine miles over the
mountain, and haven't found a mouthful to eat. Sorry, but it's a fact.
Give us our biscuits." Of course there are none, and, as it is not
contrary to army etiquette to do so, the whole mess professes to be very
sorry. Sometimes, however, the foragers returned well laden with good
things, and as good comrades should, shared the fruits of their toilsome
hunt with their comrades.

Foragers thought it not indelicate to linger about the house of the
unsuspecting farmer till the lamp revealed the family at supper, and
then modestly approach and knock at the door. As the good-hearted man
knew that his guests were "posted" about the meal in progress in the
next room, the invitation to supper was given, and, shall I say it,
accepted with an unbecoming lack of reluctance.

The following illustrates the ingenuity of the average forager. There
was great scarcity of meat, and no prospect of a supply from the
wagons. Two experienced foragers were sent out, and as a farmer about
ten miles from