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Updated: May 20, 2025
"Now, Mister Scruggs, le's see you do some makin', since you're so brash." "Here, stop that, you little scamps," shouted Si, whose attention had been so far devoted to quieting Harry and Gid, and showing them how to prepare their traps for marching. "Great Scott, can't you git along without fightin'? I'm goin' to take you where you'll git real fightin' enough to satisfy you.
Even Monty Scruggs felt that the kink had gone out of his backbone, and the disturbance in his dietetic department had sufficiently subsided to allow him to enjoy a cup of coffee and piece of toasted meat on a hardtack. The Surgeon had reached Gid Mackall, and had put him in comfortable shape.
"They're the boss regiment in the army o' the Cumberland, and the Army o' the Cumberland's the boss army on earth. Hooray for US Co. Le's have a speech. Where's Monty Scruggs?" "Yes, Where's Monty?" echoed Si, with a little chill at his heart, for he had not remembered seeing the boy since they emerged from the abatis, just before the final rush.
Well, what do these smarties do but fill up Scruggs with the idea that the best way to make himself forever solid with me was to stroll down close to my tent and casually let off 'Bingen on the Rhine' in his best style.
Alf Russell hesitated a moment, and then climbed up on the pile of washings and after clearing his throat, sang "When This Cruel War is Over" in his best style, and was applauded from the top of the rock and below. "Now, give us your speech. But no politics," the rebels shouted. Monty Scruggs stepped up on the mound and recited "Bingen on the Rhine" in his best school-exhibition style.
"He's a Cam'elite," said the Bishop dryly "ready to dispute a'ready" here the young Scruggs sent out a kick which caught the Bishop in the mouth. "With Baptis' propensities," added the Bishop. "Fetch the baptismal fount." "Please, pap," said little Appomattox Watts from the front bench, "but Archie B. has drunk up all the baptismal water endurin' the first prayer."
Si and Shorty, having finished their suppers, lighted their pipes, and strolled up through the regiment to talk over with the others the events of the day and the probabilities of the morrow. Left alone, the tongues of the excited boys became loosened, and ran like the vibrations of a cicada's rattle. "Wasn't it just wonderful?" said Monty Scruggs.
A couple of natty young Aids followed their superiors' example, rode up, dismounted, and studied the enemy's position with great dignity and earnestness, that it might have full effect upon the brigade behind them. Monty Scruggs saw his opportunity. He bound some tin cans together to represent field glasses, mounted a stump, and began intently studying Buzzard Roost.
Little Pete Skidmore was keenly alive to all that was going on, and wanted to know everything. When he could trust himself not to get lost from his regiment, he would scurry over to the nearest one, to find out who they were, where they had come from, what they had been doing, and whither they were likely to go. But Monty Scruggs was constantly in the public eye, as he loved to be.
You git it well into your craws that I command you, and that you've got to do just as I say, and I'll do the rest o' the knowin' that you need. "But how're we to know that you're right every time," argued Monty Scruggs. "Well," explained the patient Si, "if you've any doubts, go to the Orderly-Sarjint. If he don't satisfy you, go to the Captain.
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