on an independent
foraging expedition. I had only gone a short distance when I espied a "pie
wagon." Usually when the paymaster was around there would be "hucksters"
or peddlers with all kinds of commodities following in his wake. This
fellow had driven to the front from City Point. They were generally
dare-devils, and this one was no exception to the rule. He had driven
right up to the front, unhitched his horse and began selling hot mince
pies. He had some kind of a stove and outfit in an old covered wagon where
he made the pies quickly and sold them hot for one dollar apiece; the pies
were about the size of a saucer. When I reached the wagon there was quite
a crowd around him; some were buying and eating them as if they were good,
while others stood looking on wistfully watching their comrades who were
fortunate enough to have the price. I was one of the unfortunates. I could
smell the cooking of the pies long before I reached the wagon, and this
only served to increase my already ravenous hunger; but all I could do
was to stand there with my hands in my pockets, smack my lips and imagine
what they tasted like--the longer I staid the better they tasted. I
believe I would have given five hundred dollars for one if I had possessed
the money, but I didn't have a cent; our regiment had not been paid. All
this time I was thinking of my poor brother, how he would like one of
those hot pies, and I began to concoct schemes how to get one. The way I
worked the old sanitary man would never do to try on this fellow, for he
was a "fakir" by birth, occupation and inclination. The fellow was doing a
lively business. "Here you are! Nice hot pies, fresh baked, right from the
oven! Walk up lively here. Only one dollar apiece! There's only a few of
them left, and I shan't be here again for a month; walk up with your
dollar! Get off that wheel, you young devil!" I had climbed up on the
wheel to make observations and see if I couldn't sneak a pie, but he was
watching and detected my motive; so down I got and stood gaping at him, my
mouth wide open; but my hungry look had no effect on him, he had no
sympathy for anything except dollars. Finally I thought my brother might
have a dollar, so back to him I ran, told him of the pies, but he had not
a cent. The knowledge of the pies added two fold to his hunger. "Gosh!" he
said, "ain't there some way? Can't you steal one?" "No," I said, "I have
tried that. I would have made his horse run away and