While the 200th Ind. was getting ready to fall in, the sick-call sounded, and the Orderly-Sergeant remarked to Si:
"Fall into this squad, Corporal Klegg."
"What for?" asked Si, looking askance at the squad.
"To go to the Surgeon's tent," answered the Orderly-Sergeant. "This is the sick squad."
"That's what I thought," answered Si; "an' that's the reason I ain't goin' to join it."
"But your head's bigger'n a bushel, Si," remonstrated the Sergeant. "Better let the doctor see it."
"I don't want none of his bluemass or quinine," persisted Si. "That's all he ever gives for anything. The swellin' 'll come out o' my head in time, same as it does out o' other people's."
"Corporal, I'll excuse you from duty to-day," said the Captain kindly. "I really think you ought to go to the Surgeon."
"If you don't mind, Captain," said Si, saluting, "I'll stay with the boys. I want to see this thing to the end. My head won't hurt me half so bad as if I was back gruntin' 'round in the hospital."
"Probably you are right," said the Captain. "Come along, then."