"We're agreed," said Si promptly, stepping from{144} behind the tree, and leaving his gun standing against it. "Hit's a go," responded the rebels, coming out disarmed. "We'uns won't shoot no more till ordered, an' then'll give yo'uns warnin' fust." [Illustration: THE OVERTURE FOR TRADE. 144] "All right; we'll give you warning before we shoot," coincided Si. "Say, have yo'uns got any Yankee coffee that{145} you'll trade for a good plug o' terbacker?" inquired the man whom Si had regarded as his particular antagonist. "Yes," answered Si. "We've got a little. We'll give you a cupful for a long plug with none cut off." "What kind of a cupful?" asked the bartering "Johnny." "A big, honest cupful. One o' this kind," said Si, showing his. "All right. Hit's to be strike measure," said the rebel. "Here's the plug," and he held up a long plug of "natural leaf." "O. K.," responded Si. "Meet me half way." The truce had quickly extended, and the firing suspended all along the line of Co. Q. The men came out from behind their trees, and sat down on the banks in open view of one another. Si filled his cup "heaping-full" with coffee, climbed down the bank and waded out into the middle of the water. The rebel met him there, while his companion and Shorty stood on the banks above and watched the trade. "Y're givin' me honest measure, Yank," said the rebel, looking at the cup. "Now, if ye hain't filled the bottom o' yer cup with coffee that's bin biled before, I'll say y're all right. Some o' yo'uns air so dod-gasted smart that y' poke off on we'uns coffee that's bin already biled, and swindle we'uns." "Turn it out and see," said Si. The rebel emptied the cup into a little bag, carefully scrutinizing the stream as it ran in. It was all fine, fragrant, roasted and ground coffee.{146} "Lord, thar's enough t' last me a month with keer," said the rebel, gazing unctuously at the rich brown grains. "I won't use more'n a spoonful a day, an' bile hit over twice. Yank, here's yer terbacker. I've made a good trade. Here's a Chatanooga paper I'll throw in to boot. Got a Northern paper about ye anywhar?" Si produced a somewhat frayed Cincinnati Gazette. "I can't read myself," said the rebel, as he tucked the paper away. "Never l'arned to. Pap wuz agin hit. Said hit made men lazy. He got erlong without readin', and raised the biggest fambly on Possum Crick. But thar's a feller in my mess kin read everything but the big words, and I like t' git a paper for him to read to the rest o' we'uns." "Was your pardner badly hurt by mine's shot?" asked Si. "No. The bullet jest scraped the bone. He'll be likely to have a stitch in his side for awhile, but he's a very peart man, and won't mind that. I'm s'prised he didn't lay your pardner out. He's the best shot in our company."