Red Rock.  This town, following the practice of all towns through which the Army passed, had appointed a committee of safety.  Counting five to a family, Red Rock consisted of sixty households.  Her committee of safety was scared stiff by the eruption of two thousand hungry hoboes who lined their boats two and three deep along the river bank.  General Kelly was a fair man.  He had no intention of working a hardship on the village.  He did not expect sixty households to furnish two thousand meals.  Besides, the Army had its treasure-chest.

But the committee of safety lost its head.  “No encouragement to the invader” was its programme, and when General Kelly wanted to buy food, the committee turned him down.  It had nothing to sell; General Kelly’s money was “no good” in their burg.  And then General Kelly went into action.  The bugles blew.  The Army left the boats and on top of the bank formed in battle array.  The committee was there to see.  General Kelly’s speech was brief.

“Boys,” he said, “when did you eat last?”

“Day before yesterday,” they shouted.

“Are you hungry?”

A mighty affirmation from two thousand throats shook the atmosphere.  Then General Kelly turned to the committee of safety:—­

“You see, gentlemen, the situation.  My men have eaten nothing in forty-eight hours.  If I turn them loose upon your town, I’ll not be responsible for what happens.  They are desperate.  I offered to buy food for them, but you refused to sell.  I now withdraw my offer.  Instead, I shall demand.  I give you five minutes to decide.  Either kill me six steers and give me four thousand rations, or I turn the men loose.  Five minutes, gentlemen.”

The terrified committee of safety looked at the two thousand hungry hoboes and collapsed.  It didn’t wait the five minutes.  It wasn’t going to take any chances.  The killing of the steers and the collecting of the requisition began forthwith, and the Army dined.

And still the ten graceless individualists soared along ahead and gathered in everything in sight.  But General Kelly fixed us.  He sent horsemen down each bank, warning farmers and townspeople against us.  They did their work thoroughly, all right.  The erstwhile hospitable farmers met us with the icy mit.  Also, they summoned the constables when we tied up to the bank, and loosed the dogs.  I know.  Two of the latter caught me with a barbed-wire fence between me and the river.  I was carrying two buckets of milk for the pale Vienna.  I didn’t damage the fence any; but we drank plebian coffee boiled with vulgar water, and it was up to me to throw my feet for another pair of trousers.  I wonder, gentle reader, if you ever essayed hastily to climb a barbed-wire fence with a bucket of milk in each hand.  Ever since that day I have had a prejudice against barbed wire, and I have gathered statistics on the subject.