: Trotwood's Monthly Vol. I No. 2 November 1905 by Various Moore John Trotwood Editor - Southern States Periodicals; Agriculture Southern States Periodicals; Horses Periodicals

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er. D'ye know I had an idee that he wanted ter put her out o' the way? So I steps back over the mount'in an into the cabin whur they all sleeps--all 'leven on 'em. But ye know I couldn't kiss 'er good-bye, seein' 'er sleepin' thar so sweet?" He struck savagely at his eyes with his big-knuckled fist. "But I fetched this--I've jined fur the war an' I wants my own gun--don't like ther blunderbusses you-uns shoots. This un's a Deckerd--been thro' ther Revolushun, an' with Ole Hickory at New 'leans. It's fittin' fur it to fit ag'in fur the Union. Thar--see!" and he pointed the gun high up at the limb of a big oak.

The General saw nothing until the great flint and steel snapped together like the jaws of an alligator, and he had a tender but headless fox squirrel for his breakfast, cooked, later, by Solomon's own hand. "An' I don't shoot ther innards out, nurther," he growled.

"You needn't lose him, Major," chuckled the general, as he pulled off a succulent hind limb, roasted on a green stick-spittle over a pit of coals. The Major having the mate of it in his own mouth, could not speak, but nodded vigorously.

"'Pint 'em ter bury ther dead--they're nat'ul born pallbearers. I've seed lots o' folks that was."

When old Tecumseh Sherman heard of this he offered to promote Solomon to a corporalcy:

"Nun--no," said Solomon, "then I'd hafter wear boots an' a unerform. An' say, them thar unerforms you-uns wear meks you-uns look jes lak them little flyin' stink-ants that swarms out in the spring. God didn't inten' no two fol'ks ter be alike. Es fur boots, they fus' jes make yer feet tender an' then wears out. I've got on a pa'r thet nurver wears out."

He figured next in a horse race with a Kentucky regiment which was first unwise enough to cast aspersions on the speed of Ajax and then bold enough to back them with the long green. It was a great race run between two lines of howling blue. "Nurver bet agin natur'," said Solomon dryly, as he pocketed all the money of the Republic which the unwise Kentuckians had. "Ajax is by natur' a horse an' your'n ain't."

For a week after that the Tenth indulged in vain and effeminate luxuries.

Spring brought the fighting and the tragedy--of the latter, Solomon was the ink.

They made him color-bearer--he was so strong, and it was so easy to see him in his coon-skin cap, his Deckerd strapped to his back. For he would not lay it down even while carrying the flag. At Resaca he took the colors through balls which came thick enough to stop a bluebird. Mines cut the tail from his cap, a buck-and-ball cleared one foot of bunions, and canister carried his canteen bodily from his body; but in the thick of it he yelled out savagely at the General: "Say, thar, Gen'l, get out o' thar on that hoss! You mout get 'im hurt!"

He spent the next week nursing the wounded enemy: "For ain't they our brothers?" he asked, and the scoffers in blue were silent.

A beautiful valley beyond Resaca and Solomon had never seen such rich land. A grand mansion in the valley and Solomon had never seen such a house. The General had pitched his camp near by. A thousand other camps dotted the valleys and hills. A hundred battle flags fluttered from their staffs. There was planning, priming; trenches crept across the hills in the night, like mole-paths in a garden, and the valleys were billowed with them, cannon crowned and picketed with steel. They would give little Joe his death blow.

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