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Updated: May 28, 2025
The fire crackled around the Dutch ovens, and the odor of coffee came floating by. Then Mac hunched himself against a wagon-wheel and began to talk. "I suppose it looks odd to you, Sarge, to see me in this rig?" he asked whimsically. "It beats punching cows, though that is, when a fellow discovers that he isn't a successful cowpuncher." "Does it?" I returned dryly.
Well, good luck, Bob, I thought, if you don't make it, as you probably won't, your wife can always hang your posthumous medals on the hallstand together with all the bowler hats. Not having touched a teleprinter for a couple of years I said, "It's no use, sarge, I'll fail, it's a waste of time."
Kirby slapped his hand on the horn of his Mexican saddle. "Now that's what an hombre wants to hear. You change pasture on a good colt, makes him even fatter! Come blue bellies all ovah this heah territory, we jus' shift range. An' nobody gonna take Texas! Even the horny toads would spit straight in a Yankee's eye " "How 'bout it, Sarge?"
"Here," MacRae broke in hastily, "we've got to move pretty pronto, and get across the river. That fire will be on us in five minutes. Sarge and I will gather up their horses. You keep an eye on Bevans, Piegan; he'll answer questions fast enough when I get at him."
I have quoted this somewhat lengthy account because, as we shall see in the sequel, the subterranean dwellings and above all refuges in Europe, bear to this town of King Og of Bashan a marked resemblance. Within four hours of Paris by Chartres and Sarge is the town of Montoire with a clean inn, Le Cheval Rouge, and next station down the Loir is Troo.
Seems like we've covered most of this heah range already." "Huntsville. We have to locate a river crossin'." Drew looked up. "Startin' back, Sarge?" "Heard talk," Wilkins admitted. "Most of the blue bellies in these parts are turnin' lines to aim square at us. We can't take on all of Sherman's bully boys " "Got him riled, though, ain't we? All right."
Seems like anyone wearin' blue an' forkin' a hoss ought to know who's been chasin' him to Hell an' gone over most of Tennessee. Lucky I ain't in a sod-pawin' mood, hombre, or I might jus' want to see how a blue-belly sarge looks without an ear on his thick skull, or maybe try a few Comanche tricks of hair trimmin'! Guerrillas !" The Union sergeant glanced from Kirby and Drew to his own men.
"But the colonel said it had to go in." "Can't help it.... Too late," said the regimental sergeant-major. Andrews felt the room and the men in their olive-drab shirt sleeves at the typewriters and the three nymphs creeping from behind the French War Loan poster whirl round his head. Suddenly he heard a voice behind him: "Is the name Andrews, John, Sarge?"
There were the same shelters ingeniously constructed of brush and logs and a picket line for horses and mules. This hole must harbor a high percentage of deserters from both armies. "Only four of us," Kirby remarked. "'Course I know we're the tall men of the army, but ain't this runnin' the odds a mite high?" Croff chuckled. "He's got a point there, Sarge."
"Seein' as how what happened back there on the road could be pinned on us, we have to do something," Drew returned. This whole section of country would boil over when those bodies were discovered. "And we ain't the only ones. Any of our boys comin' through here on furlough are like to be jumped for it if the Yankees catch them." "That's the truth if you ever spoke it, Sarge.
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