“Where did you get it?” the officers asked with one voice.
“Trapped it, just trapped it. I caught the coffee, and Tatanka crawled up on the sugar.”
A loud boyish laugh rang around the table.
“Three cheers for Barker and Tatanka. May they hunt long and prosper,” the oldest officer proposed, and Bill and Tim joined heartily in the cheers.
“Mr. Barker,” cried the captain, “you and Tatanka paddle your iron-clad up the river and crawl up on some more coffee and sugar.”
How much little gifts of luxuries brighten the life of soldiers in the field can perhaps only be appreciated by those who have for weeks or months been reduced to the barest necessities of life.
After dinner, both host and guests opened their treasure-troves of stories, serious and comic. Then the young officers formed an impromptu trio and many songs, sprung up during the great siege, rang through the warm summer night, new words set to old tunes.
“’Twas at the siege of Vicksburg,
Of Vicksburg, of Vicksburg.
’Twas at the siege of Vicksburg,
When the Parrott shells were whistling through the air.
Listen to the Parrott shells,
Listen to the Parrott shells,
The Parrott shells are whistling through the air.”
Shortly after ten the young officers bade farewell to their host and friends, for at eleven they, as well as Captain Dent, went on duty with their men, behind the parapets and at the batteries.
For a few brief hours they had forgotten sorrow and hunger and the oppressive gloom of probable surrender, which like a hideous specter seemed to come creeping a little closer every day.