Humorous stories, American; United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction; War stories, American
We now went into the house, and they began to ask us a world of
questions, whereby it presently came out that we did not know anything
concerning who or what we were running from; so the old gentleman made
himself very frank, and said we were a curious breed of soldiers, and
guessed we could be depended on to end up the war in time, because no
government could stand the expense of the shoe-leather we should cost it
trying to follow us around. “Marion _Rangers_! good name, b’gosh!” said
he. And wanted to know why we hadn’t had a picket-guard at the place
where the road entered the prairie, and why we hadn’t sent out a
scouting party to spy out the enemy and bring us an account of his
strength, and so on, before jumping up and stampeding out of a strong
position upon a mere vague rumor—and so on, and so forth, till he made
us all feel shabbier than the dogs had done, not half so
enthusiastically welcome. So we went to bed shamed and low-spirited;
except Stevens. Soon Stevens began to devise a garment for Bowers which
could be made to automatically display his battle-scars to the grateful,
or conceal them from the envious, according to his occasions; but Bowers
was in no humor for this, so there was a fight, and when it was over
Stevens had some battle-scars of his own to think about.
Then we got a little sleep. But after all we had gone through, our
activities were not over for the night; for about two o’clock in the
morning we heard a shout of warning from down the lane, accompanied by a
chorus from all the dogs, and in a moment everybody was up and flying
around to find out what the alarm was about. The alarmist was a horseman
who gave notice that a detachment of Union soldiers was on its way from
Hannibal with orders to capture and hang any bands like ours which it
could find, and said we had no time to lose. Farmer Mason was in a
flurry this time, himself. He hurried us out of the house with all
haste, and sent one of his negroes with us to show us where to hide
ourselves and our tell-tale guns among the ravines half a mile away. It
was raining heavily.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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