The man groaning in the wagon
informed Josiah concerning mules and their ways. After a day or two he
was pleased to get back on his legs, for when bullets were not flying the
army life was full of interest. A man who could cook well, shave an
officer or shoe a horse, never lacked the friends of an hour; and too,
his unfailing good-humour was always helpful. An officer of the line
would have been easy to find, but the engineers were continually in
motion and hard to locate. He got no news of John Penhallow until the
29th of May, when he came on General Wilson's cavalry division left on
the north side of the Pamunkey River to cover the crossing of the trains.
These troopers were rather particular about straggling negroes, and
Josiah sharply questioned told the simple truth as he moved toward the
bridge, answering the questions of a young officer. A horse tied to a
sapling at the roadside for reasons unknown kicked the passing cavalry
man's horse. The officer moved on swearing a very original mixture of
the over-ripe English of armies. Swearing was a highly cultivated
accomplishment in the cavalry; no infantry profanity approached it in
originality. The officer occupied with his uneasy horse dropped Josiah
as he rode on. A small, dark-skinned negro, rather neatly dressed, spoke
to Josiah in the dialect of the Southern slave, which I shall not try to
put on paper.
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