"Bein' a soljer aint quite what they crack it up to be when they're gittin' a fellow to enlist. It's mity rough, and you'd better believe it. You ought to be glad you're a gurl and don't haf to go. I wish't I was a gurl sometimes. I haven't kild enny rebbles yet. I hain't even seen one except a fiew raskils that was tuk in by the critter soljers, they calls em cavilry. Me and all the rest of the boys wants to hav a fite, but it looks like Ginral Buil was afeared, and we don't git no chance. I axed the Ordly couldn't he get me a furlow. The Ordly jest laft and says to me, Si, says he, yer don't know as much as a mule. The Capt'n made me walk up and down for an hour with a big rail on my sholder. "You tell Squire Joneses boy that he haint got sand enuff to jine the army, and if he don't keep away from you I'll bust his eer when I git home, if I ever do. Whattle you do if I shouldn't ever see you agin? But you no this glorus Govyment must be pertected, and the bully Stars and Strips must flote, and your Si is goin to help do it. "My pen is poor, my ink is pale, My luv for you shall never fale. "Yours, aflfeckshnitly, Si Klegg." CHAPTER X. SI AND THE DOCTORS HE JOINS THE PALE PROCESSION AT SICK-CALL. SI KLEGG was a good specimen of a healthy, robust Hoosier lad—for he could scarcely be called' a man yet. Since he lay in his cradle and was dosed with paregoric and catnip tea like other babies, he had never seen a sick day, except when he had the mumps on "both sides" at once. He had done all he could to starve the doctors. When the 200th Ind. took the field it had the usual outfit of men who wrote their names sandwiched between a military title in front and "M. D." behind, a big hospital tent, and an apothecary shop on wheels, loaded to the guards with quinine, blue-mass, castor oil, epsom salts, and all other devices to assuage the sufferings of humanity. The boys all started out in good shape, and there had been hardly time for them to get sick much yet. So up to this stage of the regiment's history the doctors had found little to do but issue arnica and salve for lame legs and blistered feet, and strut around in their shiny uniforms. But there came a day when they had all they could attend to. On going into camp one afternoon, the regiment, well in advance, struck a big field of green corn and an orchard of half-ripe apples. Of course, the boys sailed in, and natural consequences followed. "Now this is something like!" said Si, as he squatted on the ground along with Shorty and half a dozen messmates. They surrounded a camp- kettle full of steaming ears and half a bushel or so of apples heaped on a poncho. "Wish we had some o' mother's butter to grease this corn with," observed Si, as he flung a cob into the fire and seized a fresh ear. All agreed that Si's head was level on the butter question, but under all the circumstances of the case they were glad enough to have the com without butter.