“You’d better go on to the rear; go down to the beach, and some of those camp followers will take care of you.” “Are they a part of the army?” “Not exactly,” the officer grimly answered. “Their duty seems to lie in raking in the army’s money as fast as they can bamboozle us. Still, the laundresses are rather necessary. I’ll speak to some laundress about you, when I have opportunity. Are you willing to scrub clothes in a tub?” “No,” Jerry declared honestly. “I think I’d rather join the army and help fight. Are you a general?” “I?” The young officer acted astonished. “Not yet. I’m only Second Lieutenant Grant. I’m about as far from being a general as you are.” “But you’re fighting, anyway.” “Not very fiercely, at present. The artillery is doing the fighting. After the artillery has opened the way, then the infantry will have a chance.” “Well,” said Jerry, “I guess I’d better be going on.” “Look here,” spoke Lieutenant Grant. “I’ll wager you’re hungry. Aren’t you?” “Yes, sir.” “You see that tent at the end of the row?” And Lieutenant Grant pointed. “That’s my quarters――mine and Lieutenant Sidney Smith’s. You go there and you’ll find a darky; or you’ll find him if he isn’t somewhere else. He’s Smith’s servant. You tell Pompey that Lieutenant Grant sent you to get something to eat. Then you can tidy up my things. I reckon,” added Lieutenant Grant, stubbornly, as if to himself, “that I’ll show Smith I can have a bodyguard as well as he can.” “And shall I stay there?” Jerry asked eagerly. “You say you want to join the army. So if you’re willing to play understudy to a mere second lieutenant instead of to a drum major, maybe we can come to some agreement. At any rate, go get a meal.” Jerry hustled for the tent. The flaps were open, nobody was within, but on the sunny side, without, he discovered a young darky asleep, on his back, with a bandanna handkerchief over his face to keep off the flies. The darky was dressed in a torn whitish cotton shirt, a pair of old army trousers, sky-blue, tied about his waist with a rope, and gaping shoes from which his toes peeped out. He was snoring. But Jerry had to get something to eat, according to orders. “Hello,” he said, gazing down. The bandanna rose and fell; the snores continued. Shot and shell and big guns made no difference to this darky. Jerry considered. He broke a twig from a scrap of bush and tickled the toes. They twitched, the snores changed to grunts, the bandanna wriggled, and on a sudden with a prodigious “Oof! G’way from dar!” the darky blew off his bandanna and sort of burst into sitting up, staring wildly, his eyes rolling. “Who you?” he accused. “Wha’ fo’ you do dat, ticklin’ me like one o’ dem t’ousand-leggers? I’se gwine to lambast you fo’ dat, you white limb o’ Satan!” “Lieutenant Grant said you’d find me something to eat,” Jerry explained. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”