eeves, and was furiously challenging another fellow to
then and there settle an old-time grudge by the "ordeal of battle." I
didn't tarry, but hurried on the best I could, finally got into a
secluded patch of brush, and tumbled down. I came to my senses along
late in the evening, with a splitting headache, and feeling awful
generally, but reasonably sober.

And such was the conduct, when trusted with whisky, of the two
non-commissioned officers of Co. D, "men who were strictly temperate and
absolutely reliable." But Tim had no trouble about his break. I suppose
he gave some plausible explanation, and as for me, I had lived up to the
standard, so far as the public knew, and maintained a profound silence
in regard to the episode. Tim and I in private conversation, or
otherwise, both carefully avoided the subject until the time came when
we could talk and laugh about it without any danger of "tarnishing our
escutcheons."

In the meantime the alleged siege of Corinth was proceeding in the
leisurely manner that characterized the progress of a suit in chancery
under the ancient equity methods. From our camp on Owl creek we could
hear, from time to time, sporadic outbursts of cannonading, but we
became so accustomed to it that the artillery practice ceased to excite
any special attention. The Confederates began quietly evacuating the
place during the last days of May, completed the operation on the 30th
of the month, and on the evening of that day our troops marched into the
town unopposed.

CHAPTER VI.

BETHEL. JACKSON. JUNE AND JULY, 1862.

Soon after our occupation of Corinth a change in the position of our
forces took place, and all the command at Owl creek was transferred to
Bethel, a small station on the Mobile and Ohio railroad, some twenty or
twenty-five miles to the northwest. We left Owl creek on the morning of
June 6th, and arrived at Bethel about dark the same evening. Thanks to
my repeated long walks in the woods outside of our lines, I was in
pretty fair health at this time, but still somewhat weak and shaky. On
the morning we took up the line of march, while waiting for the "fall
in" call, I was seated at the foot of a big tree in camp, with my
knapsack, packed, at my side. Enoch Wallace came to me and said:
"Stillwell, are you going to try to carry your knapsack?" I answered
that I reckoned I had to, that I had asked Hen. King (our company
teamster) to let me put it in his wagon, and he wouldn't,-