SHORTY had always been conspicuously1 lacking in the general interest which his comrades had shown in the mails. Probably at some time in his life he had had a home like the rest of them, but for some reason home now played no part in his thoughts. The enlistment3 and muster-rolls stated that he was born in Indiana, but he was a stranger in the neighborhood when he enrolled4 himself in Co. Q.
His revelations as to his past were confined to memories of things which happened "when I was cuttin' wood down the Mississippi," or "when I was runnin' on an Ohio sternwheel."
He wrote no letters and received none. And when the joyful5 cry, "Mail's come," would send everybody else in the regiment6 on a run to the Chaplain's tent, in eager anticipation7, to jostle one another in impatience8, until the contents of the mailpouch were distributed, Shorty would remain indifferent in his tent, without an instant's interruption in his gun cleaning, mending, or whatever task he might have in hand.
A change came over him after he sent his letter to Bad Ax, Wis. The cry, "Mail's come," would make151 him start, in spite of himself, and before he could think to maintain his old indifference9. He was ashamed, lest he betray his heart's most secret thoughts.
The matter of the secure transmission of the mails between camp and home began to receive his earnest attention. He feared that the authorities were not taking sufficient precautions. The report that John Morgan's guerrillas had captured a train between Louisville and Nashville, rifled the mail car, and carried off the letters, filled him with burning indignation, both against Morgan and his band and the Generals who had not long ago exterminated10 that pestiferous crowd.
He had some severe strictures on the slovenly11 way in which the mail was distributed from the Division and Brigade Headquarters to the regiments12. It was a matter, he said, which could not be done too carefully. It was a great deal more important than the distribution of rations13. A man would much rather lose several days' rations than a letter from home. He could manage in some way to get enough to live on, but nothing would replace a lost letter.
Then, he would have fits of silent musing14, sometimes when alone, sometimes when with Si in the company, over the personality of the fair stocking-knitter of Wisconsin and the letter he had sent her. He would try to recall the exact wording of each sentence he had laboriously15 penned, and wonder how it impressed her, think how it might have been improved, and blame himself for not having been more outspoken16 in his desire to hear from her again. He would steal off into the brush, pull out the socks152 and letter, which he kept carefully wrapped up in a sheet of the heavy letter paper, and read over the letter carefully again, although he knew every word of it by heart. These fits alarmed Si.
"I'm af eared," he confided17 to some cronies, "that rebel bullet hurt Shorty more'n he'll let on. He's not actin' like hisself at times. That bullet scraped so near his thinkery that it may have addled18 it. It was an awful close shave."
"Better talk to the Surgeon," said they. "Glancing bullets sometimes hurt worse'n they seem to."
"No, the bullet didn't hurt Shorty, any more than make a scratch," said the Surgeon cheerfully when Si laid the case before him. "I examined him carefully. That fellow's head is so hard that no mere19 scraping is going to affect it. You'd have to bore straight through it, and I'd want at least a six-pounder to do it with if I was going to undertake the job. An Indiana head may not be particularly fine, but it is sure to be awfully20 solid and tough. No; his system's likely to be out of order. You rapscallions will take no care of yourselves, in spite of all that I can say, but will eat and drink as if you were ostriches21. He's probably a little off his feed, and a good dose of bluemass followed up with quinine will bring him around all right. Here, take these, and give them to him."
The Surgeon was famous for prescribing bluemass and quinine for every ailment23 presented to him, from sore feet to "shell fever." Si received the medicines with a proper show of thankfulness, saluted24, and left. As he passed through the clump25 if bushes he was tempted26 to add them to the153 collection of little white papers which marked the trail from the Surgeon's tent, but solicitude27 for his comrade restrained him. The Surgeon was probably right, and it was Si's duty to do all that he could to bring Shorty around again to his normal condition. But how in the world was he going to get his partner to take the medicine? Shorty had the resolute28 antipathy29 to drugs common to all healthy men.
It was so grave a problem that Si sat down on a log to think about it. As was Si's way, the more he thought about it, the more determined30 he became to do it, and when Si Klegg determined to do a thing, that thing was pretty nearly as good as done.
"I kin2 git him to take the quinine easy enough," he mused31. "All I've got to do is to put it in a bottle o' whisky, and he'd drink it if there wuz 40 'doses o' quinine in it. But the bluemass's a very different thing. He's got to swaller it in a lump, and what in the world kin I put it in that he'll swaller whole?"
Si wandered over to the Sutler's in hopes of seeing something there that would help him. He was about despairing when he noticed a boy open a can of large, yellow peaches.
"The very thing," said Si, slapping his thigh32. "Say, young man, gi' me a can o' peaches jest like them."
Si took his can and carefully approached his tent, that he might decide upon his plan before Shorty could see him and his load. He discovered that Shorty was sitting at a little distance, with his back to him, cleaning his gun, which he had taken apart.
"Bully," thought Si. "Just the thing. His hands154 are dirty and greasy33, and he won't want to tech anything to eat."
He slipped into the tent, cut open the can, took out a large peach with a spoon, laid the pellet of bluemass in it, laid another slice of peach upon it, and then came around in front of Shorty, holding out the spoon.
"Open your mouth and shut your eyes, Shorty," he said. "I saw some o' the nicest canned peaches down at the Sutler's, and I suddenly got hungry for some. I bought a can and brung 'em up to the tent. Jest try 'em."
He stuck the spoon out towards Shorty's mouth. The latter, with his gunlock in one hand and a greasy rag in the other, looked at the tempting34 morsel35, opened his mouth, and the deed was done.
"Must've left a stone in that peach," he said, as he gulped36 it down.
"Mebbe so," said Si, with a guilty flush, and pretending to examine the others. "But I don't find none in the rest Have another?"
Shorty swallowed two or three spoonfuls more, and then gasped37:
"They're awful nice, Si, but I've got enough. Keep the rest for yourself."
Si went back to the tent and finished the can with mingled38 emotions of triumph at having succeeded, and of contrition39 at playing a trick on his partner. He decided40 to make amends41 for the latter by giving Shorty an unusually large quantity of whisky to take with his quinine.
Si was generally very rigid42 in his temperance ideas, He strongly disapproved43 of Shorty's155 drinking, and always interposed all the obstacles he could in the way of it. But this was an extraordinary case—it would be "using liquor for a medicinal purpose"—and his conscience was quieted.
Co. Q had one of those men—to be found in every company—who can get whisky under apparently44 any and all circumstances. In every company there is always one man who seemingly can find something to get drunk on in the midst of the Desert of Sahara. To Co. Q's representative of this class Si went, and was piloted to where, after solemn assurances against "giving away," he procured45 a halfpint of fairly-good applejack, into which he put his doses of quinine.
In the middle of the night Shorty woke up with a yell.
"Great Cesar's ghost!" he howled, "what's the matter with me? I'm sicker'n a dog. Must've bin22 them dodgasted peaches. Si, don't you feel nothin'?"
"No," said Si sheepishly; "I'm all right. Didn't you eat nothin' else but them?"
"Naw," said Shorty disgustedly. "Nothin' but my usual load o' hardtack and pork. Yes, I chawed a piece o' sassafras root that one of the boys dug up."
"Must've bin the sassafras root," said Si. He hated to lie, and made a resolution that he would make a clean breast to Shorty—at some more convenient time. It was not opportune46 now. "That must've bin a sockdologer of a dose the Surgeon gave me," he muttered to himself.
Shorty continued to writhe47 and howl, and Si made156 a hypocritical offer of going for the Surgeon, but Shorty vetoed that emphatically.
"No; blast old Sawbones," he said. "He won't do nothin' but give me bluemass, and quinine, and I never could nor would take bluemass. It's only fit for horses and hogs49."
Toward morning Shorty grew quite weak, and correspondingly depressed50.
"Si," said he, "I may not git over this. This may be the breakin' out o' the cholera51 that the folks around here say comes every seven years and kills off the strangers. Si, I'll tell you a secret. A letter may come for me. If I don't git over this, and the letter comes, I want you to burn it up without reading it, and write a letter to Miss Jerusha Ellen Briggs, Bad Ax, Wis., tellin' her that I died like a man and soldier, and with her socks on, defendin' his country."
Si whistled softly to himself. "I'll do it. Shorty," he said, and repeated the address to make sure.
The crisis soon passed, however, and the morning found Shorty bright and cheerful, though weak.
Si was puzzled how to get the whisky to Shorty. It would never do to let him know that he had gotten it especially for him. That would have been so contrary to Si's past as to arouse suspicion. He finally decided to lay it where it would seem that someone passing had dropped it, and Shorty could not help finding it. The plan worked all right. Shorty picked it up in a few minutes after Si had deposited it, and made quite an ado over his treasure trove53.
"Splendid applejack," he said, tasting it; "little bitter, but that probably comes from their using157 dogwood in the fires when they're 'stilhn'. They know that dogwood'll make the liquor bitter, but they're too all-fired lazy to go after any other kind o' wood." He drank, and as he drank his spirits rose. After the first dram he thought he would clean around the tent, and make their grounds look neater than anybody else's. After the second he turned his attention to his arms and accouterments. After the third he felt like going out on a scout54 and finding some rebels to vary the monotony of the camp-life. After the fourth, "Groundhog," unluckily for himself, came along, and Shorty remembered that he had long owed the teamster a licking, and he felt that the debt should not be allowed to run any longer. He ordered Groundhog to halt and receive his dues. The teamster demurred55, but Shorty was obdurate56, and began preparations to put his intention into operation, when the Orderly-Sergeant came down through the company street distributing mail.
Shorty Wants to Fight Groundhog 157
"Shorty," he said, entirely57 ignoring the bellicosity58 of the scene, "here's a letter for you."
Shorty's first thought was to look at the postmark. Sure enough, it was Bad Ax, Wis. Instantly his whole demeanor59 changed. Here was something a hundred times more important than licking any teamster that ever lived.
"Git out, you scab," he said contemptuously. "I haint no time to fool with you now. You'll keep. This won't."
Groundhog mistook the cause of his escape. "O, you're powerful anxious to fight, ain't you, till you find I'm ready for you, and then you quiet down. I'll let you know, sir, that you mustn't give me no more o' your sass. I won't stand it from you. You jest keep your mouth shet after this, if you know when you're well off."
The temptation would have been irresistible60 to Shorty at any other time, but now he must go off somewhere where he could be alone with his letter, and to the amazement61 of all the spectators he made no reply to the teamster's gibes62, but holding the159 precious envelope firmly in his hand, strode off to the seclusion63 of a neighboring laurel thicket64.
His first thought, as he sat down and looked the envelope over again, was shame that it had come to him when he was under the influence of drink. He remembered the writer's fervent65 Christianity, and it seemed to him that it would be a gross breach66 of faith for him to open and read the letter while the fumes67 of whisky were on his breath. He had a struggle with his burning desire to see the inside of the envelope, but he conquered, and put the letter back in his pocket until he was thoroughly68 sober.
But he knew not what to do to fill up the time till he could conscientiously69 open the letter. He thought of going back and fulfilling his long-delayed purpose of thrashing Groundhog, but on reflection this scarcely commended itself as a fitting prelude70.
He heard voices approaching—one sympathetic and encouraging, the other weak, pain-breathing, almost despairing. He looked out and saw the Chaplain helping71 back to the hospital a sick man who had over-estimated his strength and tried to reach his company. The man sat down on a rock, in utter exhaustion72.
Shorty thrust the letter back into his blousepocket, sprang forward, picked the man up in his strong arms, and carried him bodily to the hospital. It taxed his strength to the utmost, but it sobered him and cleared his brain.
He returned to his covert73, took out his letter, and again scanned its exterior74 carefully. He actually feared to open it, but at last drew his knife and carefully slit75 one side. He unfolded the inclosure as160 carefully as if it had been a rare flower, and with palpitating heart slowly spelled out the words, one after another:
Shorty Reading the Letter 160
"Bad Ax, Wisconsin,
"April the Twenty-First, 1863.
"Mister Daniel Elliott, Company Q, 200th Indiana Volunteer
Infantry76.
"Respected Sir: I taik my pen in hand toe inform you that I
am wel, and hoap that you aire in joying161 the saim
blessing77. For this, God be prazed and magnified forever."
"Goodness, how religious she is," said he, stopping to ruminate78. "How much nicer it makes a woman to be pious79. It don't hurt a man much to be a cuss—at least while he's young—but I want a woman to be awfully religious. It sets her off more'n anything else."
He continued his spelling exercise:
"I am verry glad that my sox reached you all rite52, that they
fell into the hands of a braiv, pious union soldier, and he
found them nice."
"Brave, pious union soldier," he repeated to himself, with a whistle. "Jewhilikins, I'm glad Bad Ax, Wis., is so fur away that she never heard me makin' remarks when a mule-team's stalled. But I must git a brace80 on myself, and clean up my langwidge for inspection-day."
He resumed the spelling:
"I done the best I could on them, and moren that no one can
do. Wimmen cant81 fite in this cruel war, but they ought all
to do what they can. I only wish I could do more. But the
wimmen must stay at home and watch and wait, while the men
go to the front."
"That's all right. Miss Jerusha Ellen Briggs," said he, with more satisfaction. "You jest stay at home and watch and wait, and I'll try to do fightin' enough for both of us. I'll put in some extra licks in future on your account, and they won't miss you from the front."
The next paragraph read:
"I should like to hear more of you and your162 regiment.
The only time I ever beared of the 200th Indiana regiment
was in a letter writ48 home by one of our Wisconsin boys and
published in the Bad Ax Grindstone, in which he said they
wuz brigaded with the 200th Indiana, a good fighting
regiment, but which would stele82 even the shoes off the
brigade mules83 if they wuzzent watched, and sumtimes when
they wuz. Ime sorry to hear that any union soldier is a
thief. I know that our boys from Wisconsin would rather die
than stele."
"Steal! The 200th Injianny steal!" Shorty flamed out in a rage. "Them flabbergasted, knock-kneed, wall-eyed Wisconsin whelps writin' home that the Injiannians are thieves! The idee o' them longhaired, splay-footed lumbermen, them chuckleheaded, wap-sided, white-pine butchers talking about anybody else's honesty. Why, they wuz born stealin'. They never knowed anything else. They'd steal the salt out o' your hardtack. They'd steal the lids off the Bible. They talk about the 200th Injiannny! I'd like to find the liar84 that writ that letter. I'd literally85 pound the head offen him."
It was some time before he could calm himself down sufficiently86 to continue his literary exercise. Then he made out:
"Spring's lait here, but things is looking very well. Wheat
wintered good, and a big crop is expected. We had a fine
singing-school during the Winter, but the protracted87 meeting
drawed off a good many. We doant complain, however, for the
revival88 brought a great many into the fold. No moar at
present, but belave me
"Sincerly Your Friend,
"Jerusha Ellen Briggs."163
Shorty's heart almost choked him when he finished. It was the first time in his hfe that he had received a letter from any woman. It was the first time since his mother's days that any woman had shown the slightest interest in his personality. And, true man like, his impulses were to exalt89 this particular woman into something above the mere mortal.
Then came a hot flush of indignation that the Wisconsin men should malign90 his regiment, which, of course, included him, to the mind of such a being. He burned to go over and thrash the first Wisconsin man he should meet.
"Call us thieves; say we'll steal," he muttered, as he walked toward the Wisconsin camp. "I'll learn 'em different."
He did not see anybody in the camp that he could properly administer this needed lesson to. All the vigorous, able-bodied members seemed to be out on drill or some other duty, leaving only a few sick moping around the tents.
Shorty's attention was called to a spade lying temptingly behind one of the tents. He and Si had badly wanted a spade for several days. Here was an opportunity to acquire one. Shorty sauntered carelessly around to the rear of the tent, looked about to see that no one was observing, picked up the implement91 and walked off with it with that easy, innocent air that no one could assume with more success than he when on a predatory expedition.
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1
conspicuously
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| ad.明显地，惹人注目地 | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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enlistment
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| n.应征入伍，获得，取得 | |
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enrolled
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| adj.入学登记了的v.[亦作enrol]( enroll的过去式和过去分词 )；登记，招收，使入伍（或入会、入学等），参加，成为成员；记入名册；卷起，包起 | |
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joyful
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| adj.欢乐的，令人欢欣的 | |
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regiment
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| n.团，多数，管理；v.组织，编成团，统制 | |
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anticipation
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| n.预期，预料，期望 | |
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impatience
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| n.不耐烦，急躁 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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exterminated
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| v.消灭，根绝( exterminate的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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slovenly
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| adj.懒散的，不整齐的，邋遢的 | |
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regiments
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| （军队的）团( regiment的名词复数 )； 大量的人或物 | |
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rations
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| 定量( ration的名词复数 )； 配给量； 正常量； 合理的量 | |
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musing
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| n. 沉思，冥想 adj. 沉思的, 冥想的 动词muse的现在分词形式 | |
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laboriously
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| adv.艰苦地；费力地；辛勤地；（文体等）佶屈聱牙地 | |
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outspoken
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| adj.直言无讳的，坦率的，坦白无隐的 | |
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confided
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| v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的过去式和过去分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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addled
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| adj.（头脑）糊涂的，愚蠢的；（指蛋类）变坏v.使糊涂( addle的过去式和过去分词 )；使混乱；使腐臭；使变质 | |
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mere
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| adj.纯粹的；仅仅，只不过 | |
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awfully
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| adv.可怕地，非常地，极端地 | |
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ostriches
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| n.鸵鸟( ostrich的名词复数 )；逃避现实的人，不愿正视现实者 | |
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bin
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| n.箱柜；vt.放入箱内；[计算机] DOS文件名:二进制目标文件 | |
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ailment
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| n.疾病，小病 | |
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saluted
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| v.欢迎，致敬( salute的过去式和过去分词 )；赞扬，赞颂 | |
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clump
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| n.树丛，草丛；vi.用沉重的脚步行走 | |
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tempted
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| v.怂恿（某人）干不正当的事；冒…的险（tempt的过去分词） | |
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27
solicitude
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| n.焦虑 | |
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resolute
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| adj.坚决的，果敢的 | |
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antipathy
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| n.憎恶；反感，引起反感的人或事物 | |
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determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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mused
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| v.沉思，冥想( muse的过去式和过去分词 )；沉思自语说（某事） | |
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thigh
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| n.大腿；股骨 | |
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greasy
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| adj. 多脂的，油脂的 | |
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tempting
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| a.诱人的, 吸引人的 | |
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morsel
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| n.一口，一点点 | |
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gulped
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| v.狼吞虎咽地吃，吞咽( gulp的过去式和过去分词 )；大口地吸（气）；哽住 | |
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37
gasped
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| v.喘气( gasp的过去式和过去分词 )；喘息；倒抽气；很想要 | |
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38
mingled
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| 混合，混入( mingle的过去式和过去分词 )； 混进，与…交往[联系] | |
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contrition
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| n.悔罪，痛悔 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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amends
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| n. 赔偿 | |
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rigid
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| adj.严格的，死板的；刚硬的，僵硬的 | |
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43
disapproved
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| v.不赞成( disapprove的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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apparently
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| adv.显然地；表面上，似乎 | |
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procured
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| v.（努力）取得， （设法）获得( procure的过去式和过去分词 )；拉皮条 | |
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46
opportune
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| adj.合适的，适当的 | |
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writhe
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| vt.挣扎，痛苦地扭曲；vi.扭曲，翻腾，受苦；n.翻腾，苦恼 | |
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writ
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| n.命令状，书面命令 | |
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hogs
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| n.（尤指喂肥供食用的）猪( hog的名词复数 )；（供食用的）阉公猪；彻底地做某事；自私的或贪婪的人 | |
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depressed
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| adj.沮丧的，抑郁的，不景气的，萧条的 | |
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51
cholera
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| n.霍乱 | |
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rite
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| n.典礼，惯例，习俗 | |
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trove
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| n.被发现的东西，收藏的东西 | |
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scout
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| n.童子军，侦察员；v.侦察，搜索 | |
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demurred
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| v.表示异议，反对( demur的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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obdurate
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| adj.固执的，顽固的 | |
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entirely
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| ad.全部地，完整地；完全地，彻底地 | |
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bellicosity
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| n.好战，好打架 | |
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demeanor
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| n.行为；风度 | |
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irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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gibes
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| vi.嘲笑，嘲弄（gibe的第三人称单数形式） | |
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seclusion
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| n.隐遁，隔离 | |
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thicket
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| n.灌木丛，树林 | |
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fervent
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| adj.热的，热烈的，热情的 | |
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breach
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| n.违反，不履行；破裂；vt.冲破，攻破 | |
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fumes
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| n.(强烈而刺激的)气味，气体 | |
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thoroughly
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| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
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conscientiously
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| adv.凭良心地；认真地，负责尽职地；老老实实 | |
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prelude
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| n.序言，前兆，序曲 | |
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helping
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| n.食物的一份&adj.帮助人的，辅助的 | |
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exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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covert
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| adj.隐藏的；暗地里的 | |
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exterior
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| adj.外部的，外在的；表面的 | |
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slit
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| n.狭长的切口；裂缝；vt.切开，撕裂 | |
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infantry
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| n.[总称]步兵(部队) | |
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blessing
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| n.祈神赐福；祷告；祝福，祝愿 | |
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ruminate
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| v.反刍；沉思 | |
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pious
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| adj.虔诚的；道貌岸然的 | |
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brace
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| n. 支柱,曲柄,大括号; v. 绷紧,顶住,(为困难或坏事)做准备 | |
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cant
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| n.斜穿，黑话，猛扔 | |
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stele
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| n.石碑，石柱 | |
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mules
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| 骡( mule的名词复数 )； 拖鞋； 顽固的人； 越境运毒者 | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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literally
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| adv.照字面意义，逐字地；确实 | |
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sufficiently
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| adv.足够地，充分地 | |
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protracted
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| adj.拖延的；延长的v.拖延“protract”的过去式和过去分词 | |
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revival
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| n.复兴，复苏，（精力、活力等的）重振 | |
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exalt
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| v.赞扬，歌颂，晋升，提升 | |
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malign
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| adj.有害的；恶性的；恶意的；v.诽谤，诬蔑 | |
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implement
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| n.(pl.)工具，器具；vt.实行，实施，执行 | |
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