The troops were in bivouac on the James River. The boys received four months' pay, and there was no place to buy anything except at the sutler's. The trader took advantage of the situation and marked his goods up fifty per cent. He had just received a barrel of whiskey, which he was retailing at fifty cents a glass. The sutler's glass held a little more than a thimbleful. There was a run on the whiskey for a time. Then trade slacked up, and the sutler was at a loss to account for it, as it was contrary to all precedent, the rule being that the more liquor the boys got the more they wanted. Finally the call for whiskey ceased.
“What's the matter with the men?” the sutler asked one of his clerks.
“I don't know—they never acted like this before.”
“They're not buying our whiskey.”
“No.”
“And many of them seem to be getting drunk.”
“That's so.”
“Must be somebody else's selling in camp. I thought we had a corner on whiskey.”
“So did I.”
“Well, you go out and see what you can find.”