Page:Hugh Pendexter--Tiberius Smith.djvu/39

From Wikisource
Jump to navigation Jump to search
This page needs to be proofread.

THE TOWN THAT LOST ITSELF

it were but yesterday. Why, it simply staggered 'em, sir.

"You see, they'd lost all idea of time. From observing them I can now dimly appreciate the all-absorbing interest the Civil War excited. Those people simply hung around from one day to another, waiting for the paper to leave the dinky, squeaking press. It was a mere leaflet, all reading-matter. Old Deacon Durgin, with hickory staff clutched in his withered hand, loafed in our office from morning until night. Tib and I had to stand out in the middle of the grass-grown lane when we wished to cook up some warm, sassy ones.

"‘What shall we give 'em next?' I inquired.

"‘Capture of Fort Donelson,' suggested Tib.

"‘That was before the naval engagement, I believe,' I objected.

"‘We are defying time,' reminded my leader. 'But if you are squeamish and desire to observe a strict sequence of events, give 'em the Peninsular Campaign.'

"I didn't recall much about this campaign, but I foozled up some names, gave a list of twenty killed, and let it go. It took like hot cakes. They didn't mind paying over the gold; it was the least valuable of their possessions. If we'd asked for potatoes they would have coppered us to lose, I reckon.

27