"
"Ah!" said an old corporal, "just you wait a bit. These are only a
skirmish line. July and Chickahominy mosquitoes will get you when your
baccy's out."
"It's out now."
Josiah was eager to question some one and was aware of the value of
tobacco as a social solvent. He said, "I've got some baccy, corporal."
The men in front of him turned. "For sale--how much?"
"No," said Josiah. "My pouch is full. Help yourselves."
This liberal contribution was warmly appreciated, and the private, who
was the son of a New York banker, interested in the black man, asked,
"What are you doing in this big circus?" It was the opening for which
Josiah waited.
"Looking for an engineer-captain."
The corporal said, "Well, like enough he'll be at the bridge of the North
Anna--but the engineers are here, there and anywhere. What is his name?"
"Thank you, sir. My master is Captain Penhallow."
"Well, good luck to you."
"Take another pipe load," returned Josiah, grateful for the unusual
interest.
"Thank you," said the private, "with pleasure. Tobacco is as scarce as
hen's teeth."
"That's so. Who's that officer on the big horse? He's a rider whoever he
is."
"That's the ring-master of this show," laughed the private.
"Not General Grant!"
"Yes." Josiah considered him with interest.
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