THREE:Consciousness began returning more swiftly, though the muscles were yet paralyzed. He could feel to the tips of his fingers, yet he could not move them. He began to understand the words spoken about him, and comprehend their meaning. The first sentence that filtered its way to his brain was Lieut. Bowersox's order to the regiment:
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THREE:"Who is there?""You can go," said Lieut. Bowersox to the Lieutenant. "Sergeant, bring in Orderly-Sergeant Jacob Whitelaw."
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THREE:
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THREE:"Not a mite," asserted Bob.
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THREE:It was the through train to St. Louis that he boarded, and the only vacant seat that he could find was one partially filled with the belongings of a couple sitting facing it, and very close together. They had hold of one another's hands, and quite clearly were dressed better than they were accustomed to. The man was approaching middle age, and wore a shiny silk hat, a suit of broadcloth, with a satin vest, and a heavy silver watch chain. His face was rather strong and hard, and showed exposure to rough weather. The woman was not so much younger, was tall and angular, rather uncomfortably conscious of her good clothes, and had a firm, settled look about her mouth and eyes, which only partially disappeared in response to the man's persistent endearments. Still, she seemed more annoyed than he did at the seating of another party in front of them, whose eyes would be upon them. The man lifted the things to make room for Shorty, who commented to himself:
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THREE:"O, I'm Special Agent of the Treasury in charge of the cotton business. You see, these rascals have been stealing the Treasury blind, in cotton, and they had to have an honest man down here, who was up to all their tricks, and wouldn't stand no nonsense. They sent me, and gave me orders which make me boss of the whole outfit. None of them outrank me about these trains.""A lot o' yellin', gallopin' riff-raff," said Shorty, with the usual contempt of an infantryman for cavalry. "Ain't worth the fodder their bosses eat."
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THREE:
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THREE:Si and Shorty strolled up to the young Irishmen, who were standing on the ground near their car. They were very plainly recent arrivals, for they still wore the characteristic clothes of the Emerald Isle, and after a little conversation with them Shorty produced his bottle and offered them a drink. The foreman had watched them suspiciously, and he came swaggering up, saying insolently:
THREE:"Go away, Groundhog," said the Deacon, recognizing him. "I've only got a little here for Si and Shorty. I hain't a spoonful left for myself, and none to give away. Go and get your own chickens, and bile 'em yourself."
