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'Who's in that Kaskaskia? he asked, stepping up close to the man with the torch. "'The ol' man, said the engineer. "'No! ol' man, eh? Well! I'll give him a canter for his currency this trip, said Yank, gloating. 'I'll follow him like a scandal; I'll stay with him this night like the odor of a hot box.
One day a big, husky Yank in "I" Company was brokenly "parlevooing" with a little French gunner, who was seen to leap excitedly into the air and drape himself about the doughboy's neck exclaiming with joy, "My son, my son, my dear sister's son." This is the truth.
Weak almost as a baby, Frank made his way to the stern of the navigating deck, and with what seemed the last ounce of strength in his body he gave the cord a feeble yank. It resisted and the boy tugged once more. Still it stuck. Mustering his strength to keep on his feet a minute longer, the boy tied the cord to his wrist.
I was riding with the advance guard of our army, and wishing a drink of water, I stopped at a farmhouse. There were no men about the premises, and no one excepting a very fine and intellectual looking lady and her two daughters. They seemed to be almost frightened to death at seeing me a "yank" appear before them.
"That's the state of affairs, and the sooner you hand over those particular papers, Billie, the quicker this revolver play ends. Where are they?" "I haven't any," the slightly tremulous note had gone out of the voice. It was firm with purpose now, even a bit sarcastic. "You've merely got on the wrong trail, Yank. I reckon you mistook me for Billie Hardy."
The old man at the table knitted his eyebrows, and a distorted, quivering, ghastly smile broke out on his face. His chest heaved; then he burst forth: "Gal, yank them gloves off, an' git me something to eat breakfus 'r dinner, I don't care which. Lime, you infernal idiot, git out there and gear up them horses. What in thunder you foolun' round about hyere in seed'n'? Come, hustle, all o' ye!"
"Well, will you get up and go to the guardhouse, or have we to carry you there?" shouted the sergeant. The guards laid hold of him gingerly and pulled him up to a sitting posture. "All right, yank him out of bed." The frail form in khaki shirt and whitish drawers was held up for a moment between the two men. Then it fell a limp heap on the floor. "Say, Sarge, he's fainted."
I went back and Pete was lying on the ground; by the aid of my flashlight, I saw that he had his hand pressed to his right breast. The fingers were covered with blood. I flashed the light on his face, and in its glow a grayish-blue color was stealing over his countenance. Pete looked up at me and said: "Well, Yank, they've done me in. I can feel myself going West."
Yank struck across our exultation. We had a good deal of trouble finding the exact spot where we had left him, for we could get no answer to our calls. He was down in a heap, covered with blood, and quite dead. The savages had scalped him. In our long companionship we had grown very fond of him, for he was a merry, good-natured, willing soul. "God!" cried Bagsby, deeply moved.
Griffith and his men crept along cautiously in the underbrush, while some of our men would wave a blanket across the exposed places in the breastwork to draw the Federal fire, while Griffith and his detail kept a sharp lookout. It was not long before they discovered the hidden "Yank" perched in the top of a tall gum tree, his rifle resting in the fork of a limb.
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