"_November 20, 1863_.
"Lieutenant,--Message received, and the messenger fed.
Corporal Coffey and eight men leave here at 10.15 P.M.
"JAMES MULLIGAN, _Sergeant_."
"Come here, little doggie," said Sergeant Cunningham. "If we get out
of this, the company shall pay for a silver collar and a medal of
honor for the finest dog in the army."
"If that detail marches at the regulation gait of three miles an
hour," I said, "it should be here by a quarter-past one, and it is now
a quarter to twelve."
My anxiety over our prospects was so great I neglected to show proper
gratitude to our devoted messenger.
"The men will do better than that, sir, if they keep on the road. The
trouble will be in finding this trail. They have never been this
way."
"I think the junction of this and the hot-springs trail cannot be far
from here. Let's take a shot at that log every three minutes from now
on, and the noise may attract our friends."
We began firing at once, aiming at the under side of the log where it
touched the earth.
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