"Well," said Si, "let's git back to the regiment as soon's possible. THe battle may begin at any minute, and we musn't be away. We'd never forgive ourselves as long's we'd live if we wasn't with the boys when they line up under the colors for the great tussle." "Getting to the regiment" was tedious and hard. Shorty was still very weak from his tobacco experiment, and Si had worked almost to exhaustion in helping his sore-footed squad along. These were as eager to get back to the regiment in time for the fight, and Si had not the heart to leave any one of them behind. The roads were filled with teams being pushed forward with ammunition and rations, and every road and path crowded with men hurrying to the "front." They were on the distant flank of their corps when they started out in the morning, and did not succeed in reaching the rear of their own division until nightfall. Though worn out by the day's painful tramping and winding around through the baffling paths between regiments, brigades and divisions, sometimes halting and some times moving off suddenly and unexpectedly, they nerved themselves for one more effort to reach the 200th Ind. before they lay down for the night. But the night was far harder than the day. The whole country was full of campfires, around which were men' cooking their supper, standing in groups, pipe in mouth, anxiously discussing the coming momentous battle, and the part their regiments would likely play in it, or sitting writing what they felt might be their last letters home. All were unutterably tired, and all earnestly thoughtful over the impending conflict. None felt ordinarily jovial, communicative and sympathetic with foot-sore stragglers trying to find their regiments. Even when they were, the movements and changes during the day had been so bewildering that their best-intentioned directions were more likely to be wrong than right. "The 200th Ind.," they would say; "yes, we saw the 200th Ind. about the middle of the afternoon, right over there on that hillside, where you see that old tree blazing up. They were acting as if they were going into camp, and I expect that's their campfires you see there." Si, Shorty and the rest would make their weary way to the point indicated, about a half-mile distant, only to find that their regiment had been sighted at another point a mile away in a different direction. The morning of July 1, 1863, was almost ready to break when they at last came up with their regiment, and flung themselves down on the ground in absolute exhaustion. Worn out as they were, their soldierly ears could not be deaf to the stirring reveille which quickly followed the early daybreak of that Summer morning, and summoned the regiment for the final, decisive move upon the rebel stronghold of Tullahoma. Though every bone and muscle seemed to cry out against it, Si, Shorty and their companions rose up promptly and joined the regiment.