"They're all here," said the Sergeant, producing them, with a regretful air. "We've plenty of use for them as long as old Billings is on deck. Say," said he, stopping, as a brighter look came into his face, "I've got an idea."
"Hold on to it till you kin mark its ears, so's you'll know it again for your property," said Shorty sarcastically. "Good idees are skeerce and valuable."
"Jeff Wilson, the General's Chief Clerk, who belongs to my company," said the Sergeant, "told me yesterday that they wanted another Orderly, and to pick out one for him. I'll send a note for him to detail you right off."
He hastily scratched off the following note on a piece of wrapping paper, folded it up, and sent secretly one of his boys on a run with it:
"Dear Jeff: Found you a first-class Orderly. It's Shorty,
of my old regiment. He's in Billings's clutches, and in
trouble. Send down a detail at once for Shorty Elliott, Co.
Q, 200th Ind. Rush. Yours, Jim."
"Here, Sergeant," called out the Provost-Marshal from the other room, "what are you fooling around in there so long for?"
"Somebody's been monkeying with my things," called back the Sergeant. "If they don't let 'em alone I'll scalp somebody."
"Well, get through, and come out here, for there's some more work for you. Make a good job with that scoundrel. I'll be in presently and see it."
Shorty squatted down, and the Sergeant made as easy going an imitation as he could of the punishment.
The messenger encountered the young General near by, limping along on a conscientious morning inspection of things about his post. He had been but recently assigned to the position, to employ him while he was getting well of his wound received at Chickamauga, and was making a characteristic effort to know all about his command. He had sent his staff on various errands, but had his Chief Clerk with him to make notes.