By and by everybody got onto it except the captain, but
there wasn't such a skunk in the battery as to tell him, partly
because of the joke, but, most of all, on account of the
convalescents, who naturally thought a heap of her. Then it got
whispered around that she was our mascot, and carried the luck of
the battery; and it was certainly RE-markable how it began to
change, getting fresh beef quite regular and maple syrup to burn,
and nine kegs of Navy pickles by mistake.
You would have thought she was too old to stand it, for we was
always on the move, and I have seen her sleeping on what was
nothing else but mud, with the rain coming down tremenjous. But
she was a tough old customer, and always came to time, outlasting
men that could have tossed her in the air, or run with her a block
and never taken breath. But, of course, it couldn't be kept up for
ever--I mean about the captain--and, sure enough, one day he
caught her riding on a gun-carriage, while he was passing along
the line on a Filipino pony.
"Good God!" he said, like that, reining in his horse and looking
at her campaign hat and the old gingham dress she wore. I wonder
she didn't correct him for his profanity, but I allow for once she
was scared stiff, and hadn't no answer ready. My! But she kind of
shrunk in and looked a million years old.
"Madam," said he, "do you belong to this column?"
"Unofficially, I do," she said, perking up a little.
"Might I inquire where you came from?" said he, doing the ironical
perlite.
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