"That blamed Wagonmaster dropped a nosebag with a lot o' cartridges in it down the chimbly," said Shorty, who had made an inspection of the fireplace. "Mad because he wasn't invited. You bet, I'll salivate him well for that little trick." CHAPTER XIV. DEACON KLEGG'S SURPRISE DECIDES TO VISIT MURFREESBORO' AND MEETS WITH ADVENTURES. "MOTHER," said Mr. Josiah Klegg, Sr., suddenly laying down the County paper, and beginning to polish his spectacles with his red bandanna, "do you know what I've the greatest mind in the world to do?" It was an evening in February, 1863, and the family had been sitting for some hours after supper around the bright fire, engaged in various occupations. "No, father," said Mrs. Klegg, looking up from her knitting with such interest that she dropped several stitches. The girls stopped their sewing, and turned expectant eyes on their father. When Mr. Josiah Klegg, sr., announced that he had a great mind to do anything, that thing stood in imminent danger of being done. He was not given to ordinary schemes, still less to idle speech. He thought slowly and doggedly, but when he had arrived at a conclusion there were 200 pounds of solid, stubborn unchangeable Indiana farmer behind the conclusion. "What is it, father?" asked Mrs. Klegg, making an automatic effort to gather up her lost stitches. "I've a good mind to go down to Murfreesboro' and{161} see Si," responded the father. "Why, father!" gasped the three "wimmen folks." "Go down there among them gorillas?" ejaculated Mrs. Klegg. "And John Morgan raiders," echoed Maria. "And Secesh soljers, butternut brigands, rebel rascals," added Tilda. "Well," answered Mr. Klegg, deliberately, "they've been peggin' away at Si for a good many months now, and they haven't killed him by a jug full. Guess I kin stand 'em for a few days. The papers say that the army's settled down at Murfreesboro' for the Winter, and that the railroad's runnin' all right from Looyiville clean there. I kin do nothin' 'round the farm for the next three or four weeks, till Spring opens, except the chores about the house, which Jimmie Watkins kin tend to as well as I kin. I've got all my fences in good shape, and split all the rails I need. There's wood enough cut to last the Winter out. I've hauled all the wheat to town I'm goin' to till prices go higher. I finished gittin' out my clover seed yesterday, and now there's nothin' left for a month but to do boy's work 'round the house, or talk politics down at the store. I'd rather go down and see Si." "Why, father," remonstrated Mrs. Klegg, "how kin you ever git along in them camps, and live the way them soljers do?" "You forgit," said her husband, with a touch of dignity, "that I druv team for a whole week in the Black Hawk war. I wanted to enlist, but I was too young. Then I turned out and drilled with the militia as long as there was any musters. I know a good{162} deal more about war than you think."