"O! they can if they want to." So, out goes Kidd, smiling as a "basket of chips."
"Boys, the Gineral says you can all go home with me."
"If you want to," was my addition to his sentence.
Not a negro stirred from the line. After a brief consultation, in an under tone, at which Kidd, I noticed, was becoming very impatient, Kidd broke the quietude by saying:
"Come on, boys—come, Jim."
Jim looked over to Bob and said: "Bob, what are you going to do?"
"Me! Ise gwine to stay for de Union!"
Old man Kidd looked beaten. "Well, Jim, what will you do?"
"O! I does what Bob does!"
This same old Kidd had been in the habit of going over the country enlisting recruits for the rebel service—telling them that he was an old man, or he would go himself; that the old folks expected to be taxed to take care of the soldiers' families; that if they wanted corn or any thing from his mill, while they were in the army, to come and get it. By such language he induced several men, who had only small families, to enlist. One of them was indebted to Kidd about thirteen dollars, and after he had been in the army a month or two, Kidd dunned him for the old bill, remarking: