"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."
This was joyful news a delightful variation from the toil on the fortifications. "Taps" found every body getting his gun and traps ready for an excursion into the country.
"You'd like to go with us, Pap, wouldn't you?" asked Si, as he looked over his cartridge-box to see what it contained.
"Indeed I would," replied the father. "I'll go any where with you rather than spend such another day in camp. You don't think you will see any rebels, do you?" he asked rather nervously.
"Don't know; never kin tell," said Shorty oracularly. "Rebels is anywhere you find 'em. Sometimes they're seldomer than a chaw of terbaker in a Sunday school. You can't find one in a whole County. Then, the first thing you know, they're thicker'n fleas on a dog's back. But we won't likely see no rebels to-morrow. There ain't no great passel o' them this side o' Duck River. Still, we'll take our guns along, jest like a man wears a breast-pin on a dark night, because he's used to it."
"Can't you give me a gun, too? I think it'd be company for me," said the Deacon.
"Certainly," said Si.