bewildering. Gilbert answered them as best he could.
"Dot's der vorst ding vot I hear yet alretty!" said Carl Stummer, with a sad shake of his head. "I vish I got dem Chunchusers—or vot you call dem—here. I fix 'em, eh, Tan?"
Dan Casey nodded vigorously. "Sure an' we'd be after puttin' a ball through ivery mother's son of 'em, so we would! Poor Ben Russell! I loiked him loike a brother!" And the honest Irish sharpshooter heaved a long sigh.
Both Casey and Stummer had been having easy times of it for several weeks, but now they were called upon to go forth with pick and shovel, to do their share of work in digging intrenchments. This was not so nice, but they went at the labor without a murmur.
"Sure an' we might as well git into practice," observed Casey, as he started in with vigor. "Whin the war's over an' we git back to the States, it may be ourselves as will be workin' fer the corporation in New York or ilsewhere!"
"Yah, udder puttin' town railroad dracks alretty in der Vest," answered Carl Stummer. "Dot is," he added, "of I ton't got money enough to puy a farm."
"'Tis a stock farm I'm wantin'," came from Casey. "Wid horses galore. There's money for
