"Say," addressing the fellow next to him, "did you ever hear of a monkly fox?"
"Never did," was the reply.
"Did you hear that story Phil L——. told about his brother and him chasing a monkly fox, that had a dash-board under his tail, what a heavy fox it was?"
The bait was grabbed by Phil.
"I never said anything about a monkly fox with a dash-board under his tail, Ike C——., and you know it."
"Well now," says Ike, with assumed innocence, "if that don't beat all; didn't I hear you tell about it, how you and your brother chased a monkly fox with a dash-board under his tail, once?"
"No, you never did"
The fun for those who were listening as they marched along, was growing fast. Still Ike held to his version of the story, with an appearance of the greatest candor, still Philip denied, getting madder and madder, and at last Ike capped the climax, by saying that Phil knew he did tell it, and when they got into camp he could prove it by Lieutenant Wilson, who was then in command of the company. All right, they would wait until they got to camp. Accordingly that night as quick as the orders were given to break ranks, away went Phil after the lieutenant. Says he: "Lieutenant, did you ever hear me tell about the time that my brother and I chased a monkly fox with a dash-board under his tail, when we were at home?" This was too much for the lieutenant, who broke into a hearty laugh at the absurdity of the question, and told Phil to go back to his quarters and not come bothering him about such matters. Phil was ready to fight almost anything but Ike C——. Ike's fists were larger than suited Phil's requirements, but he breathed out all kinds of vengeance against him, and the monkly fox with a dash-board under his tail was a standing joke for a long, long time.
ROAST GOOSE.
One morning when in camp in Kentucky, as we were walking up the color line, on which the guns were stacked, we saw under a stack of guns in front of company G's quarters, a dead gander. As we passed along we reached down and grabbing the gander round the neck, kept on. We got to our company with our prize in safety, and hunted up the captain's darkey, and promised him a dime and a piece of the gander, if he would cook it for us. He accepted the proposition and took charge of the bird. In a short time we were ordered to fall into line for company inspection. The right of the company rested on a big pile of logs that were making a splendid fire. As the order to "right dress" was given, we cast our eyes to the right, and lo! and behold! there stood the captain's darkey with our gander. Elevating him by one leg, he would hold him over the fire until the heat would compel him to change, when he would hold him by the other, every once in a while jerking him up, and pinching pieces of the flesh out with his fingers, and eating it to see if it was cooked. He had not half picked it, and the gander looked very much as if it had received a coat of tar and feathers. At times the darkey would get tired holding, and then he would rest himself by placing the fearfully mistreated bird on top of his wooly pate. I kept watching him, taking a peep at him as often as I could. At last I nudged the fellow next to me, he looked and saw, and nudged the fellow next to him. Then the captain, seeing that something was going wrong, happened to turn his eyes in the same direction, also. There stood the darkey, as black an one as ever we saw, looking reflectively into the fire, with the mutilated gander perched on his wooly head. It was too much for the captain, even; he smiled, and then for a moment we all laughed, but the darkey was driven away and order restored. I never knew what became of my gander, nor did I care, after having seen him treated in such a manner, but if our memory serves us right, some of the boys made a raid on the darkey after inspection was over, and captured what was left of it.