"No, I believe not," answered Sergeant Swords, with more courtesy than truthfulness, for he had heard the story at least a dozen times.
"Well, sir, them was tryin' times," said Corporal Grimm, shaking his head and masticating his quid with the air of a man who has suffered. "Why, sir, we marched eighty-five miles on foot, and all the rations we got was dried bacon, hams, and crackers. Oh, I just thought I would give anything for something substantial to eat, or a drink of coffee! The boys all run out of tobacco, too, an' we had an awful time." The thought of these hardships brought to his face an expression of extreme agony.
"Why didn't you press something to eat? You passed through a country where there was plenty, didn't you?" asked Sergeant Swords.
"Yes, but what could fifteen hundred men do at pressin'? Why, they couldn't a got enough to feed one brigade, let alone our whole army," answered Corporal Grimm, who, as much service as he had seen, did not exactly know how many men it took to constitute a brigade.
"We soldiers have hard times," said Sergeant Swords, brushing some of the mud off his blue jean coat. "Wonder how soon we'll draw our clothing and arms?"
"Don't know, but hope soon. I'm tired of these farmer brown breeches. I want a blue coat with stripes on the sleeves."
At this moment there came a blast from the bugle.
A general gathering of each company about the Captain's tent followed.
Abner Tompkins was First Lieutenant of the company of which Sergeant Swords and Corporal Grimm were members. He had been with the company now for over a week.
The morning drill was over, and the volunteers were lounging about the tents, on the grass; Abner was leaning with his arm across the saddle-bow of his faithful horse, that he was about to turn out to graze. The mind of the young lieutenant was full of fancies and memories. His sudden departure from home, his interview with Irene, the parting with his brother, all were fresh in his thoughts, and his eyes naturally wandered back toward the road that led to his home. A familiar sight met his view. Coming down the hill, attended by a member of his own company, who had been on picket guard, was his father's carriage driven by the family coachman.