On the Plantation: A Story of a Georgia Boy's Adventures during the WarHarris, Joel Chandler
History
On the Plantation: A Story of a Georgia Boy's Adventures during the War
Harris, Joel Chandler
Adventure stories; Boys -- Fiction; Georgia -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction; Plantation life -- Fiction; War stories
All the arrangements were duly made. Tents were borrowed from the
Hillsborough Rifles, and the drum corps of that company was hired to
make music. A half-dozen wagons carried the camp outfit and the small
boys, while the larger ones marched. It was an entirely new experience
for Joe Maxwell, and he enjoyed it as only a healthy and high-spirited
boy could enjoy it. The formal and solemn way in which the guard was
mounted was very funny to him, and the temptation to make a joke of it
was too strong to be resisted.
The tents were pitched facing each other, with the officers' tent at the
head of the line thus formed. At the other end of the lane and a little
to the rear was the baggage-tent, in which the trunks, boxes, and
commissaries were stored. Outside of all, the four sentinels marched
up and down. The tents were pitched in an old field that was used as
a pasture, and Joe noticed during the afternoon two mules and a horse
browsing around. He noticed, too, that these animals were very much
disturbed, especially when the drums began to beat, and that their
curiosity would not permit them to get very far from the camp, no matter
how frightened they were.
It happened that one of Joe's messmates was to go on guard duty at
twelve o'clock that night. He was a fat, awkward, good-natured fellow,
this messmate, and a heavy sleeper, too, so that, when the corporal
of the guard undertook to arouse him, all the boys in the tent
were awakened. All except Joe quickly went to sleep again, but this
enterprising youngster quietly put on his clothes, and, in the confusion
of changing the guard, slipped out of the lines and hid in a convenient
gully not far from the camp.
It was his intention to worry if not to frighten his messmate, and while
he lay there trying to think out the best plan to pursue, he heard the
horse and mules trampling and snorting not very far off. Their curiosity
was not yet satisfied, and they seemed to be making their way toward the
camp for the purpose of reconnoitering.
Joe's mind was made up in an instant.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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