The wide, desolate field, with its hundreds of blackened stumps, gnarled snags, and drenched and matted grass, soon presented an exciting and not an uncheerful scene. The artillery and ammunition wagons were drawn up in a hollow square in the centre of the camp, and the baggage-wagons formed a circle about them. Then over all the broad acres of the field, from its farthest hilly border to the ravines beyond, hundreds of camp-fires blazed. The fences for miles disappeared, and roots and snags vanished as if by magic. Abner was a patient sufferer, and, when the regimental surgeon came with his lantern on one arm and his box of instruments, medicines, and plasters on the other, he underwent, without a groan, the dressing and bandaging, firmly resolving not to have any more sprained ankles to be dressed, if he could avoid it. "Captain--hem, hem!--Captain Tompkins," said a voice, as a head was thrust in the wagon front. "Well, what will you have?" "Are you alone?" "Yes, come in." Abner had lighted a small piece of candle, which he had placed on a box at the head of his couch. A little round-faced man, with glasses on his nose, entered the wagon and seated himself on a camp-stool near the box, on which the captain had placed his light. "Well, Diggs, we have had a disagreeable day for marching." "Yes, captain," said the little fellow, removing a greasy sutler's cap. "It has thoroughly satisfied me that I am not for the army. A soldier's life may suit coarser natures, but one such as mine, one that recoils from uncleanliness and confusion, and death by torture, should not be brought in daily contact with sights and sounds so repellant." "I thought," said Corporal Grimm, who had just come to the wagon front, "that you had resolved to become a preacher." Mr. Diggs turned towards the new-comer with an unuttered oath. The corporal's laugh brought half a dozen soldiers to his side. "Didn't you tell that preacher, that prayed a week for you, that you had talent for a preacher, and that you would be one if only you got out of that scrape?" "What's the use of bringing up those old things again?" said Mr. Diggs, angrily. "I--hem, hem!--feel satisfied that my real vocation lies in the editorial field. I think I shall try my hand in the newspaper business." "Better try preaching first. Maybe you can assist the chaplain next Sunday." The little greasy sutler's clerk flew into a rage and left the wagon, cursing the fates that would not give him renown. Diggs having gone, the rest also withdrew, but Abner was not yet to have the rest he so much needed. Scarcely had they gone before the entrance of the wagon was darkened again, this time by that strange person we have known as Yellow Steve. Abner had not seen him since the day he prevented the combat between himself and his brother in the forest, between Snagtown and the Twin Mountains. "Well, sir," he demanded, "what are you doing here, more than two hundred miles from your usual place of abode."