Part 39 (2/2)
”Look out for those fellows,” the young Southerner said serenely.
”They're from old Jeff's home. You'll hear from them. Their fathers all fought in Mexico.”
Socola nodded.
Beside the Mississippians lay a regiment of long-legged, sinewy riflemen from Arkansas.
A hundred yards further they saw the quaint c.o.o.n-skin caps of John B.
Gordon's company from Georgia.
Socola watched these lanky mountaineers with keen interest.
”The Racc.o.o.n Roughs,” d.i.c.k explained. ”First company of Georgia volunteers. They had to march over two or three States before anybody would muster them in. They're happy as June bugs now.”
They pa.s.sed two regiments of quiet North Carolinians. The young Northerner observed their strong, muscular bodies and earnest faces.
”And these two large regiments, Mr. Welford?” Socola asked.
”Oh,” the Virginian exclaimed with a careless touch of scorn in his voice, ”they're Tarheels--not much for looks, but I reckon they'll _stick_.”
”I've an idea they will,” was the serious reply.
d.i.c.k pointed with pride to a fine-looking regiment of Virginians.
”Good-looking soldiers,” Socola observed.
”Aren't they? That's my regiment. You'll hear from them in the first battle.”
”And those giants?” Socola inquired, pointing to the right at a group of tall, rude-looking fellows.
”Texas Rangers.”
”I shouldn't care to meet them in a row--”
”You know what General Taylor said of them in the Mexican War?”
”No--”
”_They're anything but gentlemen or cowards._”
”I agree with him,” Socola laughed.
”What chance has a Yankee got against such men?” d.i.c.k asked with a wag of his big blond head.
”Let me show you what they think--”
Socola drew a leaf of _Harper's Magazine_ from his pocket and spread it before the young trooper's indignant gaze.
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