"'Well,' said he, transferring his quid of tobacco to his other cheek, 'Cap, it's this arway. I can't seem t' jest stand right up an' shoot a feller I ain't had no words with. I want to pick out my man when I kill him, an' I want t' kinder have a quah'l with him fust. I can't seem t' jest stand right up an' kill a man I ain't had _no_ words with, I can't do it, somehow er 'nother, Cap.' "I don't know how I'm going to manage to get Bill into a 'quah'l' with some special Reb before the next fight, and then make sure he'll get a chance to pop at that particular one in action! We'll have to get up some scheme, I suppose. Bill is too good a soldier to be ham-pered and to have his usefulness impaired by a simple want of a feeling of personal revenge! I reckon if the truth were told, though, we all fight a good deal better if we have that stimulant. Another ludicrous thing happened the other day. I was sent out, just with an orderly, to see if I could learn anything of the movements of the enemy. We had on citizens' clothes, and we jogged along until we were within field-glass distance of Harris's camp. He is an old West Pointer and a tactician. I've heard that they call him 'Old Logistics and Strategy'--and I must say if his advice in the Senate had been followed last winter we'd have had a mighty poor show here now. But when we got where we thought we could see something, quite a shower came up and our glass was no use. Under the cover of the rain I ventured a good deal closer; and, if you'll believe me, his command were sitting on their horses, drawn up in line, with umbrellas raised! The absurdity of the thing nearly knocked my pins from under me. I only wished I could get near enough to see the effect on Old Logistics when he should emerge from his tent--and he a West Pointer! But you don't need to make any mistakes about their fighting--these natives. We've found that they will fight to the death, but they've got their own ideas on the subject of soldiering in the meantime. Most of 'em carry their powder in a pouch, and it needs to be kept dry! It was the very funniest thing I ever saw, though. The rain came down in such torrents I couldn't get an idea how many there were, but, from the way they fought us next day, I made up my mind there must be pretty close to a million--and they didn't use umbrellas to protect themselves, either! They took our storm of shot cooler than they did the rain in camp, and they fought like demons. Of course, their equipments don't compare with ours. Most of them have their old home guns--no two alike. But a good lot of our boys are carrying around some of their ammunition inside of them just now, all the same. One of the prisoners we took--a straggler--told us that none of his command are regularly enlisted. They are afraid to enlist; say that Old Logistics is a 'reg'lar,' and, if they enlist and then don't do just his way, he'll court-martial them. They argue that, if they don't regularly enlist, he