CHAPTER XVII. THE DEACON'S INITIATION
RAPIDLY ACQUIRES EXPERIENCE OF LIFE IN THE ARMY.
SI ASKED questions of his father about the folks at home and the farmuntil the old gentleman's head ached, and he finally fell asleep throughsheer exhaustion.
The next day the Deacon took a comprehensive survey of the house, andwas loud in his praises of Si and Shorty's architecture.
"Beats the cabin I had to take your mother to, Si, when I married her,"he said with a retrospective look in his eye, "though I'd got up a sightbetter one than many o' the boys on the Wabash. Lays a way over theone that Abe Lincoln's father put up on Pigeon Crick, over in SpencerCounty, and where he brung the Widder Johnston when he married her. Iremember it well. About the measliest shack there wuz in the country.Tom Lincoln, Abe's father, wuz about as lazy as you make 'em. They saynothin' will cure laziness in a man, but a second wife 'll shake it upawfully. The Widder Johnston had lots o' git up in her, but she foundTom Lincoln a dead load. Abe wuz made o' different stuff."
"Yes," continued the father, growing reminiscential. "There wuz no tinroof, sawed boards, glass winder nor plank floor in that little shack onthe{203} Wabash, but some o' the happiest days in my life wuz spentin it. Me and your mother wuz both young, both very much in love, bothchock full o' hope and hard day's work. By the time you wuz born, Si,we'd got the farm and the house in much better shape, but they wuz furfrom being what they are to-day."
"If we only had a deed for a quarter section o' land around our housewe'd be purty well started in life for young men," ventured Si.
"I'd want it a heap sight better land than this is 'round here," saidthe Deacon, studying the land scape judicially. "Most of it that I'veseen so far is like self-righteousness the more a man has the worse he'soff. Mebbe it'll raise white beans, but I don't know o' nothin' else,except niggers and poverty. The man that'd stay 'round here, scratchin'these clay knobs, when there's no law agin him goin' to Injianny orIllinoy, hain't gumption enough to be anything but a rebel. That's myprivate opinion publicly expressed."
"Pap," said Si, after his father had been a day in camp, "I thinkwe've done fairly well in providin' you with a house and a bed, but I'mafeared that our cookin's not quite up to your taste. You see, you'vebin badly pampered by mother. I might say that she's forever spiled youfor plain grub and common cookin'."
"Your mother's the best cook that ever lived or breathed," said theDeacon earnestly. "She kin make plain cornbread taste better thananybody else's pound cake. But you do well, Si, considerin' that yourmother could never git you to do so much{204} as help peel a mess o''taters. Your coffee'd tan a side o' sole leather, and there's enoughgrease about your meat to float a skiff; but I didn't expect to live ata hotel when I come down here."
The Deacon strolled down near Regimental Headquarters. An Aid came upand, saluting the Colonel, said:
"Colonel, the General presents his compliments, and instructs me to saythat he has received orders from Division Headquarters to send detailsof a Corporal and five men from each regiment there to morrow morning at7 o'clock for fatigue duty. You will furnish yours."
"Very good," answered the Colonel, returning the salute. "Adjutant,order the detail."
"Sergeant-Major," said the Adjutant, after a momentary glance at hisroster, "send an order to Capt, McGillicuddy, of Co. Q, for a Corporaland five men for fatigue duty, to report at Division Headquarters at 7to-morrow morning."
The Deacon walked toward Co. Q's quarters, and presently saw the Orderlyhand the Captain the order from the Colonel.
"Orderly-Sergeant," said the Captain, "detail a Corporal and five mento report for fatigue duty at Division Headquarters to-morrow at 7o'clock."
The Orderly-Sergeant looked over his roster, and then walked down toSi's residence.
"Klegg," said he, "you will report for fatigue duty at DivisionHeadquarters to-morrow at 7 o'clock with five men. You will take Shorty,Simmons, Sullivan, Tomkins and Wheeler with you."
"Very good, sir," said Si, saluting.{205}
"Si," said his father, with a quizzical smile, "I've bin wonderin',ever since I heard that you wuz an officer, how much o' the army youcommanded. Now I see that if it wuz turned upside down you'd be on thevery top."
"He leads the army when it goes backward," interjected Shorty.
"Gracious, Pap," said Si, good-humoredly, "I haven't rank enough to getme behind a saplin' on the battlefield. The Colonel has the pick o'the biggest tree, the Lieutenant-Colonel and Major take the next; theCaptains and Lieutenants take the second growth, and the Sergeants havethe saplins. I'm lucky if I git so much as a bush."
"Old Rosecrans must have a big saw-log," said his father.
"Not much saw-log for old Rosey," said Si, resenting even a jokingdisparagement upon his beloved General. "During the battle he wuzwherever it wuz hottest, and on horseback, too. Wherever the firm'wuz the loudest he'd gallop right into it. His staff was shot down allaround him, but he never flinched. I tell you, he's the greatest Generalin the world."
The next morning after breakfast, and as Si and Shorty were preparing togo to Division Headquarters, Si said:
"Pap, you just stay at home and keep house to day. Keep your eyes on theboys; I tell it to you in confidence, for I wouldn't for the world haveit breathed outside the company, that Co. Q's the most everlastin' seto' thieves that ever wore uniform. Don't you ever say a word about itwhen you get{206} home, for it'd never do to have the boys' folks knowanything about it. I'd break their hearts. Me and Shorty, especiallyShorty, are the only honest ones in the company. The other fellers'dsteal the house from over your head if you didn't watch 'em."
"That's so," asseverated Shorty. "Me and Si especially me is the onlyhonest ones in the company. We're the only ones you kin really trust."
"I'd be sorry to think that Si had learned to steal," said the Deacongravely, at which Shorty could not resist the temptation to give Si afurtive kick. "But I'll look out for thieves. We used to have lots o'them in Posey County, but after we hung one or two, and rid some otherson rails, the revival meetin's seemed to take hold on the rest, and theygot converted."
"Something like that ought to be done in the army," murmured Shorty.
"When you want anything to eat you know where to git it," said Si, asthey moved off. "We'll probably be back in time to git supper."
The Deacon watched the squad march away, and then turned to think howhe would employ himself during the day. He busied himself for awhilecleaning up the cabin and setting things to rights, and flatteredhimself that his housekeeping was superior to his son's. Then he decidedto cut some wood. He found the ax, "condemned" it for some time as toits dullness and bad condition, but finally attacked with it a treewhich had been hauled up back of the company line for fuel. It was hardwork, and presently he sat down to rest. Loud words of command camefrom just beyond the hill, and he walked{207} over there to see what wasgoing on. He saw a regiment drilling, and watched it for some minuteswith interest. Then he walked back to his work, but found to hisamazement that his ax was gone. He could see nobody around on whom hissuspicions could rest.
"Mebbe somebody's borrowed it," he said, "and will bring it back whenhe's through usin' it. If he don't I kin buy a better ax for 10 or 12bits. Somebody must have axes for sale 'round here somewhere."
He waited awhile for the borrower to return the tool, but as he did not,he gathered up a load of wood and carried it up to the cabin.
"The boys'l be mighty hungry when they git back this evenin'," said heto himself. "I'll jest git up a good supper for 'em. I'll show Si thatthe old man knows some p'ints about cookin', even if he hain't bin inthe army, that'll open the youngster's eyes."
He found a tin pan, put in it a generous supply of beans, and begancarefully picking them over and blowing the dust out, the same as he hadoften seen his wife do. Having finished this to his satisfaction, he setdown the pan and went back into the cabin to get the kettle to boil themin. When he returned he found that pan and beans had
vanished, and againhe saw no one upon whom he could fix his suspicions. The good Deaconbegan to find the "old Adam rising within him," but as a faithful memberof the church he repressed his choler.
"I can't hardly believe all that Si and Shorty said about the dishonestyof Co. Q," he communed with{208} himself. "Many o' the boys in it I knowthey're right from our neighborhood. Good boys as ever lived, and honestas the day is long. Some o' them belonged to our Sunday school. Ican't believe that they've turned out bad so soon. Yet it looks awfulsuspicious. The last one I see around here was Jed Baskins. His father'sa reggerly ordained preacher. Jed never could 've took them beans. Butwho on airth done it?"
The Deacon carefully fastened the door of the cabin, and proceeded withhis camp-kettle to the spring to get some water. He found there quitea crowd, with many in line waiting for their chance at the spring. Hestood around awhile awaiting his chance, but it did not seem to get anynearer. He said something about the length of time it took, and a youngfellow near remarked:
"Here, Uncle, give me your kittle. I'll git it filled for you."
Without a thought the Deacon surrendered the kettle to him, and he tookhis place in line. The Deacon watched him edging up toward the springfor a minute or two, and then his attention was called to a brigademanuvering in a field across the river. After awhile he thoughtagain about his kettle, and looked for the kindly young man who hadvolunteered to fill it. There were several in the line who looked likehim, but none whom he could positively identify as him.
"Which o' you boys got my kittle?" he inquired, walking along the line.
"Got your kittle, you blamed teamster," they an swered crossly. "Go awayfrom here. We won't{209} allow teamsters at this spring. It's only forsoldiers. Go to your own spring."
His kettle was gone, too. That was clear. As the Deacon walked back tothe cabin he was very hot in the region of his collar. He felt quiteshame faced, too, as to the way the boys would look on his management,in the face of the injunctions they had given him at parting. His temperwas not improved by discovering that while he was gone someone hadcarried off the bigger part of the wood he had laboriously chopped andpiled up in front of the cabin. He sat down in the doorway and meditatedangrily:
"I'll be dumbed (there, I'm glad that Mariar didn't hear me say that.I'm afeared I'm gittin' to swear just like these other fellers). I'll bedumbed if I ever imagined there wuz sich a passel o' condemned thieveson the face o' the airth. And they all seem sich nice, gentlemanlyfellers, too. What'll we do with them when they git back home?"
Presently he roused himself up to carry out his idea of getting a goodmeal ready for the boys by the time they returned, tired and hungry. Herummaged through the cabin, and came across an old tin bucket partiallyfilled with scraps of paper. There did not seem to be anything of valuein it, and he tossed the contents on the smoldering fire. Instantlythere was an explosion which took the barrel off the top of the chimney,sent the stones rattling down, filled the room full of smoke, singedthe Deacon's hair and whiskers, and sped him out of the cabin in greatalarm. A crowd quickly gathered to see what was the matter. Just then Siappeared at the head of his squad. He and Shorty hurried to the scene ofthe disturbance.{210}
"What is the matter, Pap?" Si asked anxiously. "Why," explained hisfather, "I was lookin' round for something to git water in, and I foundan old tin bucket with scraps o' paper in. I throwed them in the fire,and I'm feared I busted your fireplace all to pieces, But I'll help youto fix it up agin," he added deprecatingly.
"But you ain't hurt any, are you, Pap?" asked Si,{211} anxiouslyexamining his father, and ignoring all thought as to the damage to thedwelling.
"No," said his father cheerfully. "I guess I lost a little hair, but Icould spare that. It was about time to git it cut, anyway. I think wekin fix up the fireplace, Si."
"Cuss the fireplace, so long's you're all right," answered Si. "A littlemud 'll straighten that out. You got hold o' the bucket where me andShorty 've bin savin' up our broken cartridges for a little privateFourth o' July some night."
"But, Si," said the Deacon sorrowfully, determined to have it out atonce. "They're bigger thieves than you said there wuz. They stole yourax but I'll buy you a better one for 10 or 12 bits; they took your panand beans, an' took your camp-kittle, and finally all the wood that I'dcut."
He looked so doleful that the boys could not help laughing.
"Don't worry about them, Pap," said Si cheer fully. "We'll fix them allright. Let's go inside and straighten things up, and then we'll havesome thing to eat."
"But you can't git nothin' to eat," persisted the Deacon, "becausethere's nothin' to cook in."
"We'll have something, all the same," said Shorty, with a wink ofenjoyable anticipation at Si.
The two boys carefully stowed away their overcoats, which were rolled upin bundles in a way that would be suspicious to a soldier. They got theinterior of the cabin in more presentable shape, and then Shorty wentout and produced a camp-kettle from somewhere, in which they made theircoffee.{212}
When this was ready, they shut the door and care fully unrolled theirovercoats. A small sugar-cured ham, a box of sardines, a can of peaches,and a couple of loaves of fresh, soft bread developed.
"Yum-yum!" murmured Shorty, gloating over the viands.
"Where in the world did you git them, boys?" asked the Deacon inwonderment.{213}
"Eat what is set before you, and ask no questions, for conscience'ssake, Pap," said Si, slicing off a piece of the ham and starting to broilit for his father. "That's what you used to tell me."
"Si," said the father sternly, as an awful suspicion moved in his mind,"I hope you didn't steal 'em."
"Of course, not, Pap. How kin you think so?"
"Josiah Klegg," thundered the father, "tell me how you came by themthings."
"Well, Pap," said Si, considerably abashed, "it was something likethis: Our squad was set to work to unload a car o' Christian Commissionthings. Me and Shorty pulled off our overcoats and laid them in acorner. When we got through our work and picked up our coats we foundthese things in them. Some bad men had hid them there, thinkin' they wuztheir overcoats. We thought the best way wuz to punish the thieves bytakin' the things away with us. Now, here's a piece o' ham briled almostas nice as mother could do. Take it, and cut you off a slice of thatsoft bread."
"Si, the receiver's as bad as the thief. I won't touch it."
"Pap, the harm's been done. No matter who done it, the owner'll neversee his victuals agin. Jest as like he cribbed 'em from somebody else.These Christian Commission things wuz sent down for us soljers, anyhow.We'd better have 'em than the bummers around the rear. They'll spile andbe wasted if you don't eat 'em, and that'd be a sin."
TRYING TO CONQUER THE DEACON'S SCRUPLES. 212]
The savory ham was very appetizing, the Deacon was very hungry, and theargument was sophistical.
"I'll take it, Si," said he with a sigh. "I don't{214} wonder that thepeople down here are rebels and all that sort o' thing. It's in the air.I've felt my principles steadily weakenin' from the time I crossed theOhio River."