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    Software name: appdown
    Software type: Microsoft Framwork

    size: 524MB


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      "What the devil's that?" asked Shorty.Riever was waiting with a certain air of bravado. Only an involuntary roll to his eyes betrayed the dark passions that ate him. She greeted him calmly. He looked secretly relieved.

      "Shorty," said he, "there must be something to eat somewhere around here. I'm goin' to look for it."Within the space of half an hour she nearly went out of her mind. Then there was a diversion. Once more the rat-tat-tat of the big knocker reverberated through the lofty halls, and Pendleton had to paddle down-stairs again. Pen listening with all her ears made out the rumble of Delehanty's voice. Some one else was speaking too.

      The frenzy of the first struggle was now gone from Si's mind; instead had come a deadly determination to make every shot tell.

      "Our own wagons, that we had such a time guarding, are over there in the cedars, and the rebels are filling themselves up with the stuff that we were so good to bring up for them.""That's what I was afeared of," Si confessed.

      "Bully," answered Si. "I'd much rather have the Dutch oven, anyway."

      One day Si and Shorty went with the rest of Co. Q on fatigue duty on the enormous fortifications, the building of which took up so much of the Army of the Cumberland's energies during its stay around Murfreesboro' from Jan. 3 to June 24, 1863. Rosecrans seemed suddenly seized with McClellan's mania for spade work, and was piling up a large portion of Middle Tennessee into parapet, bastion and casemate, lunet, curtain, covered-way and gorge, according to the system of Vauban. The 200th Ind. had to do its unwilling share of this, and Si and Shorty worked off some of their superabundant220 energy with pick and shovel. They would come back at night tired, muddy and mad. They would be ready to quarrel with and abuse everybody and every thing from President Lincoln down to the Commissary-Sergeant and the last issue of pickled beef and bread especially the Commissary-Sergeant and the rations. The good Deacon sorrowed over these manifestations. He was intensely loyal. He wanted to see the soldiers satisfied with their officers and the provisions made for their comfort.

      "Go to the devil," said Shorty, making another slash at the roof with the ax.


      "I guess they forgot to put any springs in when they built these wagons!" said Shorty, as he shifted his position so that he might catch the bumps in a new place for a while.


      Pen was plain panic-stricken. "Good-night!" she said, jerking her hand free. "The sky is getting light behind you!""Well then...?"


      "Git some commissary and pour into them gunboats!""I'm not goin' to hit you," said the Deacon, raising a fist as big as a small ham, "if you behave yourself. I want you to shut your mouth, and git on your mule and start for camp. If you don't 'tend to your bizness, or give me any more o' your sass, I'll pound the melt out o' you. D' you hear? Git on your mule at onct."