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Updated: June 27, 2025
I'm a loyal man, and I've got a son fightin' for the Union." "H-u-s-h," said the unconvinced man, laying his hand on the Deacon's arm. "Don't talk so loud. They're watching us." Klegg shook his hand off angrily, but the warning came too late. The Provost-Sergeant had been watching them, at the instigation of a sharp-eyed, clerkly-looking man in semi-uniform.
"Si," said the father sternly, as an awful suspicion moved in his mind, "I hope you didn't steal 'em." "Of course, not, Pap. How kin you think so?" "Josiah Klegg," thundered the father, "tell me how you came by them things." "Well, Pap," said Si, considerably abashed, "it was something like this: Our squad was set to work to unload a car o' Christian Commission things.
Klegg had her choicest young chickens killed, and after she and Amanda had robbed every other room of whatever they thought would add to the comfort of Si's, she set herself to work preparing a supper which would outdo all her previous efforts. Hours before the train was due Maria had Abraham Lincoln bring out the spring-wagon and hitch the horses to it.
"What's eatin' you? What'd you skip out from our house for? What'd you mean " He was broken in upon by Maria's voice as she came in at the head of a bevy of other girls: "Si Klegg, ain't you ever comin' out? What's akeepin' you? We're tired waitin' for you, and w're comin' right in. What're you doin' to them ragamuffins that you've bin gatherin' up? Tryin' to patch 'em up into decent-lookin' men?
"Mebbe the army's demoralizin' me," he said to himself; "but I believe it's a work o' necessity and mercy, that don't stand on nice considerations. I'm goin' to have five o' them chickens, or know the reason why." As has been before remarked, when Deacon Klegg made up his mind something had to happen. It was now quite dark.
The squad listened intently to it as it came nearer, for they felt that it meant the beginning of the day's bloody business. The crests above them remained silent. Suddenly they heard little Pete's voice calling: "Sergeant Klegg! Corporal Elliott!" They looked in every direction, but could see no Pete. "Sergeant Klegg! Corporal Elliott! Look up here. I'm up here on the rocks."
An enterprising man had put up a shanty near the track, with a long shelf in front, upon which were displayed sandwiches, pies, boiled eggs, and other eatables. The men all rushed out of the car. Mr. Klegg had begun to feel hungry himself, and joined them. "How much for that pie?" he asked, pointing to one. "Half-a-dollar," answered the keeper.
"He can't be more than thirty. He must have married when he was quite a young man." "Married?" said Ann Veronica. "Didn't you know he was married?" asked Miss Klegg, and was struck by a thought that made her glance quickly at her companion. Ann Veronica had no answer for a moment. She turned her head away sharply.
"He knows his business every time." "Not any better'n Sergeant Klegg," responded Harry, taking up the gantlet for his favorite. "Long-legged men are very good in their way, but they don't have the brains that shorter men have. Nature don't give no man everything. What she gives to his legs she takes off his head, my dad says."
"Neither of us is a-going to die till we've put down this damned rebellion, and got home and married our girls," gasped Shorty with grim effort. "You can jist telegraph that home, and to ole Abe Lincoln, and to all whom it may concern." And he fell back exhausted on his blanket. THAT evening Lieut. Bowersox sent a telegram to Deacon Klegg.
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