"COMPANY Q, tumble up here and git yer mail!" shouted the Orderly one afternoon, soon after the 200th Ind. turned into a tobacco patch to bivouac for the night. It had been two weeks since the regiment1 left Louisville, and this was the first mail that had caught up with it.
It seemed to the boys as if they had been away from home a year. For a whole fortnight they hadn't heard a word from their mothers, or sisters, or their "girls." Si Klegg couldn't have felt more lonesome and forsaken2 if he had been Robinson Crusoe.
In the excitement of distributing the mail everything else was forgotten.. The boys were all getting their suppers, but at the thought of letters from home even hunger had to take a back seat.
Si left his coffee-pot to tip over into the fire, and his bacon sizzling in the frying-pan, as he elbowed his way into the crowd that huddled3 around the Orderly.
"If there ain't more'n one letter for me," said Si softly to himself, "I hope it'll be from Annabel; but, of course, I'd like to hear from Ma and sister Marier, too!"
The Orderly, with a big package of letters in his hand, was calling out the names, and as the boys received their letters they distributed themselves through the camp, squatting4 about on rails or on the ground, devouring5 with the greatest avidity the welcome messages from home. The camp looked as if there had been a snowstorm.
Si waited anxiously to hear his name called as the pile letters rapidly grew smaller, and he began to think he was going to get left.
"Josiah Klegg!" at length shouted the Orderly, as he held out two letters. Si snatched them from his hand, went off by himself, and sat down on a log.
Si looked at his letters and saw that one of them was addressed in a pretty hand. He had never received a letter from Annabel before, but he "felt it in his bones" that this one was from her. He glanced around to be certain nobody was looking at him, and gently broke the seal, while a ruddy glow overspread his beardless cheeks. But he was secure from observation, as everybody else was similarly intent.
"Dear Si," the letter began. He didn't have to turn over to the bottom of the last page to know what name he would find there. He read those words over and over a dozen times, and they set his nerves tingling6 clear down to his toe-nails. Si forgot his aches and blisters7 as he read on through those delicious lines.
It's from Annabel 081
She wrote how anxious she was to hear from him and how cruel it was of him not to write to her real often; how she lay awake nights thinking about him down among those awful rebels; how she supposed that by this time he must be full of bullet-holes; and didn't he ge' hungry sometimes, and wasn't it about time for him to get a furlough? how it was just too mean for anything that those men down South had to get up a war; how proud she was of Si because he had 'listed, and how she watched the newspapers every day to find some thing about him; how she wondered how many rebels he had killed, and if he had captured any batteries yet—she said she didn't quite know what batteries were, but she read a good deal about capturing 'em, and she supposed it was something all the soldiers did; how she hoped he wouldn't forget her, and she'd like to see how he looked, now that he was a real soldier, and her father had sold the old "mooley" cow, and Sally Perkins was engage to Jim Johnson, who had stayed at home, and as for herself she wouldn't have anybody but a soldier about the size of Si, and 'Squire8 Jones's son had been trying to shine up to her and cut Si out, but she sent him off with a flea9 in his ear.
"Yours till deth, Annabel."
The fact that there was a word misspelt now and then did not detract in the least from the letter, so pleasing to Si. In fact, he was a little lame10 in orthography11 himself, so that he had neither the ability nor the disposition12 to scan Annabel's pages with a critic's eye. Si was happy, and as he began to cast about for his supper he even viewed with complacence his bacon burned to a crisp and his capsized coffee-pot helplessly melting away in the fire.
"Well, Si, what does she say?" said his friend Shorty.
"What does who say?" replied Si, getting red in the face, and bristling13 up and trying to assume an air of indifference14.
"Just look here now. Si," said Shorty, "you can't play that on me. How about that rosy-cheeked girl up in Posey County?"
It was Si's tender spot. He hadn't got used to that sort of thing yet, and he felt that the emotions that made his heart throb15 like a sawmill were too sacred to be fooled with. Impelled16 by a sudden impulse he smote17 Shorty fairly between the eyes, felling him to the ground.
The Orderly, who happened to be near, took Si by the ear and marched him up to the Captain's quarters.
"Have him carry a rail in front of my tent for an hour!" thundered the Captain. "Don't let it be a splinter, either; pick out a good, heavy one. And, Orderly, detail a guard to keep Mr. Klegg moving."
Si Carries a Rail 083
Of course, it was very mortifying18 to Si, and he would have been almost heartbroken had he not been comforted by the thought that it was all for her! At first he felt as if he would like to take that rail and charge around and destroy the whole regiment; but, on thinking it over, he made up his mind that discretion19 was the better part of valor20.
As soon as Si's hour was up, and he had eaten supper and "made up" with Shorty, he set about answering his letter. When, on his first march, Si cleaned out all the surplusage from his knapsack, he had hung on to a pretty portfolio21 that his sister gave him. This was stocked with postage stamps and writing materials, including an assortment22 of the envelopes of the period, bearing in gaudy23 colors National emblems24, stirring legends, and harrowing scenes of slaughter25, all intended to stimulate26 the patriotic27 impulses and make the breast of the soldier a very volcano of martial28 ardor29.
When Si got out his nice portfolio he found it to be an utter wreck30. It had been jammed into a shapeless mass, and, besides this, it had been soaked with rain; paper and envelopes were a pulpy31 ruin, and the postage stamps were stuck around here and there in the chaos32. It was plain that this memento33 of home had fallen an early victim to the hardships of campaign life, and that its days of usefulness were over.
"It's no use; 'tain't any good," said Si sorrowfully, as he tossed the debris34 into the fire, after vainly endeavoring to save from the wreck enough to carry, out his epistolary scheme.
Then he went to the sutler—or "skinner," as he was better known—and paid 10 cents for a sheet of paper and an envelope, on which were the cheerful words, "It is sweet to die for one's country!" and 10 cents more for a 3-cent postage stamp. He borrowed a leadpencil, hunted up a piece of crackerbox, and sat down to his work by the flickering35 light of the fire. Si wrote:
"Deer Annie."
There he stopped, and while he was scratching his head and thinking what he would say next the Orderly came around detailing guards for the night, and directed Klegg to get his traps and report at once for duty.
Si Writes to 'deer Annie.' 085
"It hain't my turn," said Si. "There's Bill Brown, and Jake Schneider, and Pat Dooley, and a dozen more—I've been since they have!"
But the Orderly did not even deign36 to reply. Si remembered the guard-house, and his shoulder still ached from the rail he had carried that evening; so he quietly folded up his paper and took his place with the detail.
The next morning the army moved early, and Si had no chance to resume his letter. As soon as the regiment halted, after an 18-mile march, he tackled it again. This time nothing better offered in the way of a writing-desk than a tin plate, which he placed face downward upon his knee. Thus provided, Si plunged37 briskly into the job before him, with the following result:
"I now take my pen in hand to let you know that I am well, except the doggoned blisters on my feet, and I hope these few lines may find you enjoying the same blessings38."
Si thought this was neat and a good start for his letter. Just as he had caught an idea for the next sentence a few scattering39 shots were heard on the picket40-line, and in an instance the camp was in commotion41. "Tall in!" "Be lively, men!" were heard on every hand.
Si sprang as if he had received a galvanic shock, cramming42 the letter into his pocket. Of course, there wasn't any fight. It was only one of the scares that formed so large a part of that campaign. But it spoiled Si's letter-writing for the time.
It was nearly a week before he got his letter done. He wrote part of it using for a desk the back of a comrade who was sitting asleep by the fire. He worked at it whenever he could catch a few minutes between the marches and the numerous details for guard, picket, fatigue43 and other duty. He said to Annie:
An Army Writing-desk 087
"Bein' a soljer aint quite what they crack it up to be when
they're gittin' a fellow to enlist44. It's mity rough, and
you'd better believe it. You ought to be glad you're a gurl
and don't haf to go. I wish't I was a gurl sometimes. I
haven't kild enny rebbles yet. I hain't even seen one except
a fiew raskils that was tuk in by the critter soljers, they
calls em cavilry. Me and all the rest of the boys wants to
hav a fite, but it looks like Ginral Buil was afeared, and
we don't git no chance. I axed the Ordly couldn't he get me
a furlow. The Ordly jest laft and says to me, Si, says he,
yer don't know as much as a mule45. The Capt'n made me walk up
and down for an hour with a big rail on my sholder.
"You tell Squire Joneses boy that he haint got sand enuff to
jine the army, and if he don't keep away from you I'll bust46
his eer when I git home, if I ever do. Whattle you do if I
shouldn't ever see you agin? But you no this glorus Govyment
must be pertected, and the bully47 Stars and Strips must
flote, and your Si is goin to help do it.
"My pen is poor, my ink is pale,
My luv for you shall never fale.
"Yours, aflfeckshnitly, Si Klegg."
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1
regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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2
Forsaken
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| adj. 被遗忘的, 被抛弃的 动词forsake的过去分词 | |
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3
huddled
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| 挤在一起（huddle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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4
squatting
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| v.像动物一样蹲下( squat的现在分词 )；非法擅自占用（土地或房屋）；为获得其所有权；而占用某片公共用地。 | |
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5
devouring
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| 吞没( devour的现在分词 )； 耗尽； 津津有味地看； 狼吞虎咽地吃光 | |
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6
tingling
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| v.有刺痛感( tingle的现在分词 ) | |
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7
blisters
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| n.水疱( blister的名词复数 )；水肿；气泡 | |
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8
squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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9
flea
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| n.跳蚤 | |
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10
lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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11
orthography
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| n.拼字法，拼字式 | |
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12
disposition
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| n.性情，性格；意向，倾向；排列，部署 | |
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13
bristling
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| a.竖立的 | |
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14
indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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15
throb
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| v.震颤，颤动；(急速强烈地)跳动，搏动 | |
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16
impelled
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| v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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17
smote
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| v.猛打，重击，打击( smite的过去式 ) | |
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18
mortifying
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| adj.抑制的，苦修的v.使受辱( mortify的现在分词 )；伤害（人的感情）；克制；抑制（肉体、情感等） | |
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19
discretion
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| n.谨慎；随意处理 | |
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20
valor
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| n.勇气，英勇 | |
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21
portfolio
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| n.公事包；文件夹；大臣及部长职位 | |
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22
assortment
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| n.分类，各色俱备之物，聚集 | |
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23
gaudy
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| adj.华而不实的；俗丽的 | |
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24
emblems
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| n.象征，标记( emblem的名词复数 ) | |
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25
slaughter
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| n.屠杀，屠宰；vt.屠杀，宰杀 | |
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26
stimulate
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| vt.刺激，使兴奋；激励，使…振奋 | |
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27
patriotic
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| adj.爱国的，有爱国心的 | |
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28
martial
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| adj.战争的，军事的，尚武的，威武的 | |
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29
ardor
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| n.热情，狂热 | |
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30
wreck
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| n.失事，遇难；沉船；vt.(船等)失事，遇难 | |
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31
pulpy
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| 果肉状的，多汁的，柔软的； 烂糊； 稀烂 | |
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32
chaos
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| n.混乱，无秩序 | |
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33
memento
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| n.纪念品，令人回忆的东西 | |
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34
debris
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| n.瓦砾堆，废墟，碎片 | |
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35
flickering
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| adj.闪烁的，摇曳的，一闪一闪的 | |
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36
deign
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| v. 屈尊, 惠允 ( 做某事) | |
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37
plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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38
blessings
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| n.（上帝的）祝福( blessing的名词复数 )；好事；福分；因祸得福 | |
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39
scattering
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| n.[物]散射；散乱，分散；在媒介质中的散播adj.散乱的；分散在不同范围的；广泛扩散的；（选票）数量分散的v.散射(scatter的ing形式)；散布；驱散 | |
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40
picket
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| n.纠察队；警戒哨；v.设置纠察线；布置警卫 | |
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41
commotion
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| n.骚动，动乱 | |
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42
cramming
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| n.塞满，填鸭式的用功v.塞入( cram的现在分词 )；填塞；塞满；（为考试而）死记硬背功课 | |
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43
fatigue
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| n.疲劳，劳累 | |
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44
enlist
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| vt.谋取(支持等)，赢得；征募；vi.入伍 | |
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45
mule
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| n.骡子，杂种，执拗的人 | |
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46
bust
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| vt.打破；vi.爆裂；n.半身像；胸部 | |
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47
bully
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| n.恃强欺弱者，小流氓；vt.威胁，欺侮 | |
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