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Updated: May 24, 2025
"I should like to see this prince in disguise," she said. "It all sounds very romantic." "I'll take you to the shore after tea if you'd like," said Agnes eagerly. "Si's just splendid," she continued in a confidential aside as they rose from the table. "Pa doesn't half like him because he thinks there's something queer about him. But I do. He's a gentleman, as Ma says.
Even the Justice of the Peace was forced to bow to Si's authority. Early that afternoon Douglas went to the store and enquired for Squire Hawkins. "You will find him at his house," the clerk informed him. "He has not returned from his dinner yet." Douglas noticed several men in the store who ceased their earnest conversation as he entered.
"O, for the love o' God, Mister, don't shoot me," yelled Bushrod, whirling around, with uplifted arms. "I'm too wicked to die, an' I've got a fambly dependin' on me." "Turn around there, and finish your prayin'," sternly commanded Shorty, with his and Si's faces down to the stocks of their muskets, in the act of taking deliberate aim.
He chopped the hardtacks into bits, put in equal parts of water and grease, sifted over the mixture a little salt and pepper, and then gave it a thorough frying. Si's spirits rose during the gradual development of this scheme, as it seemed to offer a good prospect for his morning meal. And when it came to the eating.
"Ole Satan will be purvidin' fur them. I'll take these along to cook fur ye." She gathered up the dead chickens and stalked back to the house. "Ef we're gwine t' shoot they'uns le's take they'uns over thar on the knoll, whar they'uns won't spile nothin'," said one evil-looking man, who had just ransacked Si's pockets and appropriated everything in them.
All the dogged stubbornness of his race was now at fever point in Si's veins. Those old pioneers and farmers of the Wabash from whom he sprang were not particularly handsome to look at, they were not glib talkers, nor well educated.
One afternoon, when a few days out on this march, a regiment of Wisconsin veterans bivouacked next to the 200th Ind. The strange antics as they threw off their accouterments attracted Si's attention. "Look a' thar," he said to Shorty. "What 'n name of all the prophets 's them fellers up to?" "Seems like they was scratchin' theirselves!" "I s'pose that's on account of the dust 'n' sweat," said Si.
While he was untying the drawstring of his gold sack, Maudie said, half-aside, but whether to the Colonel or the Boy neither could tell: "Might do worse than keep your eye on Si McGinty." She nodded briskly at the violet checks on the mackinaw back. "Si's got a cinch up there on Glory Hallelujah, and nobody's on to it yet." The pianola picked out a polka.
Don't you remember they told us about him? I remember the name, for a man named Bowersox used to run a mill down on Bean-Blossom Crick, years ago, and I wondered if he was his son. He's sent me that dispatch, and signed his name. The Lord be praised for His never-endin' mercies. Si's alive, after all. Le' me read that over again."
Si brought his gun down along with the rest like a pile-driver, and it landed squarely on the foot of the man next to him. "Ou-ou-ouch!" remarked the victim of Si's inexperience. "Didn't do it a'purpose, pard," said Si compassionately; "'pon my word I didn't. I'll be more keerful after this."
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