Shorty's dander rose up at once. At any other time he would have conclusions with the Sergeant then and there. But the remembrance of his charge laid a repressive hand upon his quick choler, and reminded him that any kind of a row would probably mean a night in the guard-house, his gun in some other man's hands, probably lost forever, and so on. He decided to defer thrashing the Sergeant until his return, when he would give it to him with interest. He shouldered his gun, paced up and down, watching with watering mouth the rest luxuriating in a hot supper with fragrant coffee and appetizing viands, to which his mouth had been a stranger for many long months. It cost a severe struggle, but he triumphed. Si, in his own hungry eagerness, had not missed him, until his own appetite began to be appeased by the vigorous onslaught he made on the eatables. Then he looked around for his partner, and was horrified not to find him by his side. "Where's Shorty," he anxiously inquired. Each looked at the other in surprise, and asked: "Why, ain't he here?" "No, confound it; he ain't here," said Si, excitedly springing to his feet; "he has been knocked down and robbed." Si bolted out, followed by the rest. They saw Shorty marching up and down as a sentinel sternly military, and holding his Springfield as rigidly correct as if in front of the Colonel's quarters. "What's the matter with you, Shorty? Why don't you come in to supper?" called out Si. "It's a mighty good square meal. Come on in." "Can't do it. Don't want no supper. Ain't hungry. Got business out here," answered Shorty, who had gotten one of his rare fits of considering himself a martyr. "Nonsense," said Si. "Put your gun in the stack and come in. It's a bully supper. Best we've had for a year." "Well, eat it, then," answered Shorty crustily. "I've got something more important to think of than good suppers." "O, rats! It's as safe in there as out here. Set your gun down and come on in." "This gun shall not leave my side till we're home," said Shorty in a tone that would have become the Roman sentinel at Pompeii. "O, I forgot," said Si. "Well, bring it in with you." "Can't do it. Strictly agin orders to take any guns inside. But leave me alone. Go back and finish your gorge. I kin manage to hold out somehow," answered Shorty in a tone of deep resignation that made Si want to box his ears. "That's too bad. But I'll tell you what we can do. I've had a purty good feed already enough to last me to Looeyville. Let me take your gun. I'll carry it while you go in and fill up. We hain't much time left." The fragrance of the coffee, the smell of the fried ham smote Shorty's olfactories with almost irresistible force. He wavered just a little--. "Si, I'd trust you as I would no other man in Co. Q or the regiment. I'll--" Then his Spartan virtue reasserted itself: "No, Si; you're too young and skittish. You mean well, but you have spells, when--"