less sick, and
men on detached duty. Whereever Si or Shorty's sharp search could find
a gun not actually in use, or not likely to be, it was pretty sure, by
some means or other, either openly or surreptitiously, to be gotten into
the hands of one of the squad. In this way, by the time they arrived at
Chattanooga, they had nearly half their men armed, and had given them
some preliminary instruction in handling their guns. The Indianians
needed little so far as loading and firing, for they were all natural
marksmen, but to the Englishman and his Irish squad the musket was a
thing of mystery and dread.

"An' is that the goon for me?" said one of the Irishmen contemptuously,
as Si proudly handed him a trusty Springfield he had found unwatched
some where. "That fool thing wid a bore no bigger'n a gimlet hole? Fwhy,
out in the ould country, when we go man-hunting, we take a goon wid a
mouth like a funnel, that ye can put a hat full av balls inter. To the
divil wid such a goon as this."

"Fix your mind on learnin' the kinks o' that gun, Barney," advised
Shorty. "One ball from it put in the right place 'll do more than a hat
full from your old Irish blunderbuss. A man that gits only one from it
won't need nothin' more'n a head stone and his name crossed offen the
roster. Git a good squint at him through them sights, jest be low his
belt, hold stiddy while you pull the trigger, and his name 'll be mud."

"But fwhere is the powdher to make the ball go?" persisted Barney,
looking at the cartridge which Shorty had put in his hand.

"The powder is behind the ball in that paper bag," explained Shorty.
"You tear the paper with your teeth this way, and pour the powder into
the muzzle."

"Fhat," said Barney contemptuously, surveying the cartridge. "There isn't
enough powdher there to throw a ball as far as Oi can a pebble. Fwhy, Oi
used to put a whole handful o' powdher in the old blunderbuss. Oi wud
do betther to whack a man wid a shillelah. And fwhere is the flint to
stroike foire?"

"O, the flintlock's played out, you flannel-mouthed Irishman," said
Shorty irritably. "It's as out-of-date as a bow and arrer. This's a
percussion-lock; don't you understand? This is a cap. You stick it right
on this nipple, an' when the hammer goes down off goes your gun. Don't
you see?"

"Well, you can say, maybe, an' maybe you can't But Oi can't. Take your
old goon. Oi'll none avit.

"May the divil fly away wid it, an' wid you, too. Oi'd rat