The pickled pork was comparatively free from this cause of irritation. It was all alike, and was simply "Hobson's choice." Si remembered the fragrant and delicious fried ham that so often garnished his mother's breakfast table and wondered why there was not the same proportion of hams and sides in the Commissary that he remembered in the meathouse on the Wabash. He remarked to Shorty one day: "I wonder where all this pork comes from?" "It comes from Illinoy, I suppose," said Shorty. "I notice the barrels are all marked 'Chicago'." "Must grow funny kind o' hogs out there—a mile long each, I should say. What do you mean?" "Why, we've drawn a full mile o' sides from the Commissary, and haint struck a ham yit. I'm wonderin' jest how long that hog is!" "Well, you are green. You oughter know by this time that there are only enough hams for the officers." Now and then a few pigs' shoulders were handed round among the boys, but the large proportion of bone they contained was exasperating, and was the cause of much profanity. Sometimes bacon was issued that had really outlived its usefulness, except, perhaps, for the manufacture of soap. Improperly "cured," it was strong and rancid, or, occasionally, so near a condition of putrefaction that the stench from it offended the nostrils of the whole camp. Some times it was full of "skippers," that tunneled their way through and through it, and grew fat with riotous living. Drawing Rations 051 Si drew the line at this point. He had an ironplated stomach, but putrid and maggoty meat was too much for it. Whenever he got any of this he would trade it off to the darkies for chickens. There is nothing like pork for a Southern negro. He wants something that will "stick to his ribs." By a gradual process of development his appetite reached the point when he could eat his fat pork perfectly raw. During a brief halt when on the march he would squat in a fence corner, go down into his haversack for supplies, cut a slice of bacon, lay it on a hardtack, and munch them with a keen relish. 'all Right, Boss; Dats a Go' 052 At one of the meetings of the Army of the Cumberland Gen. Garfield told a story which may appropriately close this chapter. One day, while the Army of the Cumberland was beleaguered in Chattanooga and the men were almost starving on quarter rations, Gen. Rosecrans and his staff rode out to inspect the lines. As the brilliant cavalcade dashed by a lank, grizzled soldier growled to a comrade: "It'd be a darned sight better for this army if we had a little more sowbelly and not quite so many brass buttons!" CHAPTER VI. DETAILED AS COOK—SI FINDS RICE ANOTHER INNOCENT WITH A GREAT DEAL OF CUSSEDNESS IN IT.