"What rigiment is this?" asked Si, timidly.
"Same old rijiment!" was the answer from half a dozen at once. A single glance told the swarthy veterans that the fresh-looking youth who asked this conundrum belonged to one of the new regiments, and they immediately opened their batteries upon him:
"Left—left-=left!"
"Hayfoot—strawfoot! Hayfoot—strawfoot!" keeping time with Si's somewhat irregular steps.
"Hello, there, you! Change step and you'll march easier!"
"Look at that 'ere poor feller; the only man left alive of his regiment! Great Cesar, how they must have suffered! Say, what rijiment did you b'long to?"
"Paymaster's comin', boys, here's a chap with a pay-roll round his neck!" Si had put on that morning the last of the paper collars he had brought from home.
"You'd better shed that knapsack, or it'll be the death of ye!"
"I say, there, how's all the folks to home?"
"How d'ye like it as far as you've got, any way?"