We concluded to put up a shelter, or rather, I should say, Harter did so; for I was too sick and weak to think of anything but sleep and rest, and lay there at full length on a bed of soft pine shatters, dreamily watching the sergeant's preparations for the night. Throwing off his knapsack, haversack, and accoutrements, he took out his hatchet, trimmed away the lower branches of two pine-saplings which stood some six feet apart, cut a straight pole, and laid it across from one to the other of these saplings, buttoned together two shelters and threw them across the ridge-pole, staked them down at the corners, and throwing in his traps, exclaimed:
"There you are, 'as snug as a bug in a rug.' And now for water, fire, and a supper."
A fire was soon and easily built, for dry wood was plenty; and soon the flames were crackling and lighting up the dusky woods. Taking our two canteens, Harter started off in search of water, leaving me to stretch myself out in the tent and—heartily wish myself at home.
For soldiering is all well enough so long as one is strong and well. But when a man gets sick he is very likely to find that all the romance of marching by day and camping by night is suddenly gone, and that there is, after all, no place like home. For one, I was fully conscious of this as I lay there in the tent awaiting the sergeant's return. The sounds which came to my ears from the woods all around me,—of strong men's voices, some shouting and some conversing in low tones; the noise of axes and of falling trees; the busy, bee-like hum, losing itself amongst the trees and in the far distance; the bright glare of the many fires, and the dancing lights and shadows which seemed to people the forest with ghostlike forms,—all this, although at another time it would have had a singular charm, now awakened no response in me. One draught of water at the "Big Spring" at home, which I knew at that very moment was gushing cool and clear as crystal out of the hillside, and on the bottom of which I could in vision see the white pebbles lying, would have been worth to me all, and more than all, the witchery of our bivouac for the night. And I would have given more for a bed on the hard floor on the landing at the head of the stairs at home—I would not have asked for a bed—than for a dozen nights spent in the finest camps in the Army of the Potomac. But the thought of the Big Spring troubled me most. It seemed to me I could see it with my eyes shut, and that I could hear the water as it came gushing out of the hillside and flowed down to the meadow, plashing and rippling——
"I tell you, Harry," said the sergeant, suddenly interrupting my vision as he stepped into the circle of light in front of our little tent, and flung down his canteens, "there isn't anything like military discipline. I went down the road here about a quarter of a mile and came out near General Grant's headquarters, in a clearing. Down at the foot of a hill right in front of his headquarters is a spring: but it seems the surgeon of some hospital near by had got there before the general, and had placed a guard on the spring to keep the water for the wounded. As I came up, I heard the guard say to a darky who had come to the spring for water with a bucket,—
"'Get out of that, you black rascal; you can't have any water here.'
"'Guess I kin,' said the darky. 'I want dis yere water for Gen'l Grant; an' ain't he a commandin' dis yere army, or am you?'
"'You touch that water and I'll run my bayonet through you,' said the guard. 'General Grant can't have any water at this spring till my orders are changed.'
"The darky, saying that he'd 'see 'bout dat mighty quick,' went up the hill to headquarters, and returned in a few moments declaring that
"'Gen'l Grant said dat you got to gib me water outen dis yere spring.'