United States -- History -- Civil War, 1861-1865 -- Fiction; War stories
Jabe Belcher, the most disagreeable man in Co. Q, was just ahead of him.
He stepped into a mudpuddle, slipped, threw the mud and water over Si,
and his gun, which he flung in the effort to save himself, struck Si on
the shoulder.
The Aid Spatters Mud on si 18
"Clumsy lunkhead!" roared Si, as ill-tempered now as anybody. "Couldn't
you see that puddle and keep out of it? You'd walk right into the
Cumberland River if it was in front of you. Never saw such a bat-eyed
looney in my life."
"If the Captain wasn't lookin'," retorted Belcher, "I'd shut up both of
them dead-mackerel eyes o' your'n, you backwoods yearlin'. I'll settle
with you after we git into camp. Your stripes won't save you."
"Never mind about my stripes, old Stringhalt. I kin take them off long
enough to wallop you."
Si was in such a frame of mind that his usual open-eyedness was gone.
The company was wading across a creek, and Si plunged in without a
thought. He stepped on a smooth stone, his feet went from under him and
he sat 'down hard and waist-deep in much the coldest water that he ever
remembered.
"O, Greenland's icy mountains," was all that he could think to say.
The other boys yelled:
"Come on to camp, Si. That's no place to sit down."
"Feet hurt, Si, and goin' to rest a little?"
"This your day for taking a bath, Si?"
"Thinks this is a political meetin', and he's to take the chair."
"Place Rest!"
"When I sit down, I prefer a log or a rail; but some men's different."
"See a big bass there, Si, an' try to ketch him by settin' down on him?"
"Git up, Si; git up, an' give your seat to some lady."
Si Sat Down Hard 20
Si was too angry to notice their jibes. He felt around in the icy water
for his gun, and clambered out on the bank. He first poured the water
out of his gun-barrel and wiped the mud off. His next thought was the
three days' rations he had drawn 20 that morning. He opened his
haversack, and poured out the water it had caught. With it went his
sugar, coffee and salt. His hardtack was a pasty mess; his meat covered
with sand and dirt. He turned the haversack inside out, and swashed it
out in the stream.
Back came Capt. McGillicuddy, with water streaming from the down-turned
rim of his hat, and his humor bad. He was ignorant of Si's mishap.
"Corporal Klegg, what are you doing back here? Why aren't you in your
place? I've been looking all around for you. The company wagon's stalled
back somewhere. That spavin-brained teamster's at his old tricks. I want
you to take five men off the rear of the company, go back and find that
wagon, and bring it up. Be smart about it."
"Captain," remonstrated Si, "I'm wetter'n a drowned rat!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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