The bushwhackers & other storiesCraddock, Charles Egbert
General
The bushwhackers & other stories
Craddock, Charles Egbert
Mountain life -- Fiction; Tennessee -- Social life and customs -- Fiction
He could not have said why he was not resentful of being called
“Baby Bunting” by Captain Bertley. He felt it was in the nature of
a courteous condescension that the officer should comment on the
inadequacy of his age and the discrepancy between his limited powers
and his valuable deeds--almost as a jesting token of affection, kindly
meant and kindly received. But the name fell upon his ear often with a
far different significance; the camp cry “Bye, oh, Baby Bunting,” was
intended to goad him to such a degree of anger as should make him the
sport of the groups around the bivouac fire. The chief instigator of
this effort was a big, brutal cavalryman, by name Jack Bixby. He had a
long, red beard; long, reddish hair; small, twinkling, dark eyes, and
a powerfully built, sinewy, well-compacted figure. He was superficially
considered jolly and genial, for few of his careless companions were
observant enough of moral phenomena or sufficiently students of human
nature to take note of the fact that there was always a spice of
ill-humor in his mirth. Malice or jealousy or grudging or a mean spirit
of derision pervaded his merriment. He found great joy in ridiculing
a raw country boy, whose lack of knowledge of the world’s ways laid
him liable to many mistakes and misconceptions, and at first Hilary’s
credulity in the big lies told him by Jack Bixby and his simplicity
in acting upon them exposed him to the laughter of the whole troop.
This was checked in one instance, however; having been instructed that
it was an accepted detail of the observances of a soldier, Hilary
was induced to advance with great ceremony one day, and duly saluting
ask Captain Bertley how he found his health. The officer was standing
on ground somewhat elevated above the site of the camp, in full gray
uniform, a field-glass in his hand, his splendid charger at his
shoulder, the reins thrown over his arm. The humble “Baby Bunting”
approaching this august military object, and presuming to ask after
the commanding officer’s health, was in full view of a hundred or more
startled and amazed veterans.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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