John McElroy - The Red Acorn стр 6.

A man whose nose looks like a red-pepper pod in August, and his shirt like a section o rich bottom land, haint no great reason ter make remarks on other folkss use o water.

Jake plucked up some courage from the relaxation in the savage grimness of his captors, which seemed implied by this rough pleasantry, and with him such recuperation of spirits naturally took the form of brassy self-assertion.

Dont you fellers know, he began with a manner and tone intended to be placating, but instead was rasping and irritating, dont you fellers know that the best thing you can do with me is to take me back to our people, and trade me off for one of your fellers that theyve ketched?

An dont ye know thet the best thing ye kin do is to keep thet gapin mouth o yourn shet, so thet the flies wont git no chance to blow yer throat? said the man whose nose had been aptly likened to a ripe red-pepper pod, an the next best things fur ye to git inter that cabin thar quickern blazes ll scorch a feather, an stay thar without makin a motion toward gittin away. Git! and he made a bayonet thrust at Jake that tore open his blouse and shirt, and laid a great gaping wound along his breast. Jake leaped into the cabin and threw himself down upon the puncheon floor.

Thar war none of our crowd taken, said another of the squad, who had looked on approvingly. They wuz all killed, an the only way to git even is ter send ye whar they are.

Jake made another earnest effort to recall one of the prayers he had derided in his bad boyhood.

Leaving the red-nosed man to guard the prisoner, the rest of the Rebels started for the hollow, in search of water to cool their burning thirst.

They had gained such a distance from the scene of the fight, and were in such an out-of-the-way place, that the thought of being overtaken did not obtrude itself for an instant, either upon their minds or Jakes.

But as they came back up the hill, with a gourd full of spring water for their companion, they were amazed to see a party of blue-coats appear around the bend of the road at a little distance. They dropped the gourd of water, and yelled to the man on guard:

Kill the Yank, an run for yer life! and disappeared themselves, in the direction of the spring.

The guard comprehended the situation and the order. He fired his gun at Jake, but with such nervous haste as to destroy the aim, and send the charge into the puncheon a foot beyond his intended victim, and then ran off with all speed to join his companions. The Union boys sent a few dropping shots after him, all of which missed their mark.

Jake managed to recover his nerves and wits sufficiently to stagger to the door as his comrades came up, and grasp one of the guns the Rebels had left.

Questions and congratulations were showered upon him, but he replied incoherently, and gasped a request for water, as if he were perishing from thirst. While some hunted for this, others sought for traces of the Rebels; so he gained time to fix up a fairly presentable story of a desperate and long-continued bayonet struggle in which he was behaving with the greatest gallantry, although nearly hopeless of success, when the arrival of help changed the aspect of matters. He had so many gaping wounds to confirm the truth of this story, that it was implicitly believed, and he was taken back to camp as on e of the foremost heroes of that eventful day. The Colonel made him a Sergeant as soon as he heard the tale, and regretted much that he could not imitate the example of the great Napoleon, and raise him to a commission, on the scene of his valiant exploits. His cot at the hospital was daily visited by numbers of admiring comrades, to whom he repeated his glowing account of the fight, with marked improvements in manner and detail accompanying every repetition.

He had no desire to leave the hospital during his term of service, but his hurts were all superficial and healed rapidly, so that in a fortnights time the Surgeon pronounced him fit to return to duty. He cursed inwardly tha officers zeal in keeping the ranks as full as possible, and went back to his company to find it preparing to go into another fight.

Hello, Jake, said his comrades, awful glad to see you back. Now youll have a chance to get your revenge on those fellows. Therell be enough of us with you to see that you get a fair fight.

To the devil with their revenge and a fair fight, said Jake to himself. That evening he strolled around to the headquarters tent, and said to the commander of the regiment:

Colonel, the doctor seems to think that Im fit to return to duty, but I dont feel all right yet. Ive a numbness in my legs, so that I kin hardly walk sometims. Its my old rheumatics, stirred up by sleeping out in the night air. I hear that the man whos been drivin the headquarters wagin has had to go to the hospital. I want to be at something, even if I cant do duty in the ranks, and Id like to take his place till him and me gets well.

All right, Sergeant. You can have the place as long as you wish, or any other that I can give you. I cant do too much for so brave a man.

So it happened that in the next fight the regiment was not gratified by any thrilling episodes of sanguinary, single-handed combats, between the indomitable Jake and bloodthirsty Rebels.

He had deferred his revenge indefinitely.

Chapter IV. Disgrace

Harry Glens perfect self-complacency did not molt a feather when the victors returned to camp flushed with their triumph, which, in the eyes of those inexperienced three-months men, had the dimensions of Waterloo. He did not know that in proportion as they magnified their exploit, so was the depth of their contempt felt for those of their comrades who had declined to share the perils and the honors of the expedition with them. He was too thoroughly satisfied with himself and his motives to even imagine that any one could have just cause for complaint at anything he chose to do.

This kept him from understanding or appreciating the force of the biting innuendoes and sarcasms which were made to his very face; and he had stood so aloof from all, that there was nobody who cared to take the friendly trouble of telling him how free the camp conversation was making with his reputation.

He could not help, however, understanding that in some way he had lost caste with the regiment: but he serenely attributed this to mean-spirited jealousy of the superior advantages he was enjoying, and it only made him more anxious for the coming of the time when he could cut the whole mob of beggars, as Ned Burnleigh phrased it.

A few days more would end the regiments term of service, and he readily obtained permission to return him in advance.

The first real blow his confidence received was when he walked down the one principal street of Sardis, and was forced to a perception of the fact that there was an absence of that effusive warmth with which the Sardis people had ever before welcomed back their young townsman, of whose good looks and gentlemanliness they had always been proud. Now people looked at him in a curious way. They turned to whisper to each other, with sarcastic smiles and knowing winks, as he came into view, and they did not come forward to offer him their hands as of old. It astonished him that nobody alluded to the company or to anything that had happened to it.