“Well, we don’t.”

“Didn’t you see me over there?  That’s a bully regiment of yours.  I’d like to join it.”

“Would you, though, sonny?” said Sid, laughing till his mouth opened wide enough for a railroad train to pass in.

“Wouldn’t I, though!” replied Tom.  “If there’s any big fighting done, I’ll bet your boys do it.”

“Bet your life on thet,” added Jarvey.  “But why don’t you jine a regiment?”

“Don’t want to join any regiment that comes along.  I want to go into a fighting regiment, like yours.”

“Well, sonny, you ain’t big enough to jine ours,” said Sid, as he compassionately eyed the young man’s diminutive proportions.

“The old man wouldn’t let me go in when I wanted to, and I’m bound not to go in any of your fancy regiments.  I want to fight when I go.”

“You’ll do, sonny.  Now, what ye doing here?”

“I came out a-fishing, but I got tired, and went to sleep.”

“Where’s your fish-line?”

“In the boat.”

“What ye got in that handkerchief?”

“My dinner,” replied Tom.  “Won’t you take a bite?”

“What ye got?”

“A piece of cold chicken and some bread.”

“We don’t mind it now, sonny.  Hev you seen any men with this gear on in these yere parts?” asked Jarvey, as he pointed to his uniform.

“Yes, sir,” replied Tom, vigorously.

“Whar d’ye see ’em, sonny?”

“They crossed the ford, just above, only a little while ago.”

“How many?”

“Two,” replied Tom, with promptness.

“Where’s the other?” asked Jarvey, turning to his companion.

“He’s in these yere woods, somewhar.  We’ll fotch ’em before night.  You say the two men crossed the ford—­did ye, sonny?”

“Yes, half an hour ago.  What is the matter with them?”

“They’re mean trash, and want to run off.  Now, sonny, ’spose you put us over the river in your boat.”

“Yes, sir!” replied Tom, readily.

The two wildcats got into the bateau, nearly swamping it by their great weight, and Tom soon landed them on the other side of the river.

“Thank’e, sonny,” said Jarvey, as they jumped on shore.  “If you were only four foot higher, we’d like to take you into our regiment.  You’ll make a right smart chance of a soldier one of these yere days.  Good by, sonny.”

“Good by,” answered Tom, as he drew a long breath, indicative of his satisfaction at being so well rid of his passengers.

He had fully persuaded himself that he should be carried off a prisoner to this wildcat regiment, and he could hardly believe his senses when he found himself again safely floating down the rapid tide of the Shenandoah.  His impudence and his self-possession had saved him; but it was a mystery to him that his uniform, or the absence of his fish-line, or the answers he gave, had not betrayed him.  The mountaineers had probably not yet seen a United States uniform, or they would, at least, have questioned him about his dress.