"
"Oh, shucks!" responded the sergeant, and was out of hearing.
The regiment passed by and another took its place. "Was that General Lee
you were yelling at down there, boys?" inquired Dan politely, smiling the
smile of a man who sits by the roadside and sees another sweating on the
march.
"Naw, that warn't Marse Robert," replied a private, limping with bare feet
over the border of dried grass. "'Twas a blamed, blank, bottomless well,
that's what 'twas. I let my canteen down on a string and it never came back
no mo'."
Dan lowered his eyes, and critically regarded the tattered banner of the
regiment, covered with the names of the battles over which it had hung
unfurled. "Tennessee, aren't you?" he asked, following the flag.
The private shook his head, and stooped to remove a pebble from between his
toes.
"Naw, we ain't from Tennessee," he drawled. "We've had the measles--that's
what's the matter with us."
"You show it, by Jove," said Dan, laughing. "Step quickly, if you
please--this is the cleanest brigade in the army."
"Huh!" exclaimed the private, eying them with contempt. "You look like it,
don't you, sonny? Why, I'd ketch the mumps jest to look at sech a set o'
rag-a-muffins!"
He went on, still grunting, while Dan rose to his feet and slung his
blanket from his shoulder. "Look here, does anybody know where we're going
anyway?" he asked of the blue sky.
"I seed General Jackson about two miles up," replied a passing countryman,
who had led his horse into the corn field.
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