"Indeed; I might say that I belong to that army myself. I'm going down that way, too. You see, my Congressman helped me get a contract for furnishing the Army o' the Cumberland with bridge timber, and I'm going down to Looeyville, and mebbe further, to see about it. We've just come from St. Louis, where I've bin deliverin' some timber in rafts." "Where are you from?' "Bad Ax, Wisconsin, a little ways from La Crosse." It was Shorty's turn to start, and it flashed upon him just where he had seen that squarish face. It was in an ambrotype that he carried in his breastpocket. He almost choked on the merrythought of the chicken, but recovered himself, and said quickly: "I have heard o' the place. Lived there long?" "Always, you might say. Father took me there as a child during the mine excitement, growed up there, went into business, married, lost my wife, and married again. We're now on what you might call our bridal tower. I had to come down here on business, so I brung my wife along, and worked it off on her as our bridal tower. Purty cute, don't you think?" And he reached over and tried to squeeze his wife's hand, but she repulsed it. The bridegroom plied Shorty with questions as to the army for awhile after they had finished eating, and then arose and remarked: "I'm goin' into the smokin'-car for a smoke. Won't you come along with me, soldier, and have a cigar?" "No, thankee," answered Shorty. "I'd like to, awfully, but the doctor's shut down on my smokin' till I git well." As soon as he was well on his way the woman leaned forward and asked Shorty in an earnest tone: "Did you say that you belonged to the 200th Ind.?" "Yes'm," said Shorty very meekly. "To Co. Q." "The very same company," gasped the woman. "Did you happen to know a Mr. Daniel Elliott in that company?" "Very well, mum. Knowed him almost as well as if he was my own brother." "What sort of a man was he?" "Awful nice feller. I thought a heap of him. Thought more of him than any other man in the company. A nicer man you never knowed. Didn't drink, nor swear, nor play cards, nor chaw terbacker. Used to go to church every Sunday. Chaplain thought a heap of him. Used to call him his right bower--I mean his strong suit--I mean his two pair--ace high. No, neither o' them's just the word the Chaplain used, but it was something just as good, but more Bible-like." "I'm so glad to hear it," murmured the woman.