"Good," accorded the Deacon.
"And Jim Pocock," put in Shorty, seeing the drift. "He's gone home with a bullet through his breast. His folks are pretty poor. Why not send him $100 the same way?"
"Excellent idee," said the father.
"That leaves $100 yit," said Si. "If you care to, you kin divide it between Shorty and me, and we'll use it among the boys that got hurt, and need some thing."
A dubious look came into the Deacon's face.
"You needn't be afeared of us, Pap," said Si, with a little blush. "I kin promise you that we won't use a cent ourselves, but give every bit where it is really needed."
"I believe you, my son," said the Deacon heartily. "We'll do jest as you say."
They spent the evening carrying their plan into execution.
At the 9 o'clock roll-call the Orderly-Sergeant announced:
"Co. Q to go out with a forage-train to-morrow morning."