Meanwhile, Corporal Dudley had drawn his saber and was engaged in leisurely lopping off the dead branches of a fallen tree.
"This strikes me a lot better than the camp," he remarked as he tossed his firewood into a heap.

"A man and his friends can have a quiet drink here, without treating a whole battalion." His eye fell on the ground near the spring as he spoke and he paused.
Then, with a grin on his face, he jabbed his saber into something which lay there and held it transfixed on the point.
"Say, boys--look at this," and he shook poor Susan Jemima till her arms and legs wiggled spasmodically and her dress seemed on the point of complete disintegration.
Perhaps, if Corporal Dudley had not laughed derisively Virgie might have stayed hidden in the protection of the trees, but this outrageous insult combined with the terrible sight of poor Susan Jemima impaled on a Yankee sword was too much for her bursting heart.

With blazing eyes she broke away from her father and dashed back to the group at the spring.
"Here, you! You stop that," she cried angrily at the astonished troopers, who caught up their carbines at the sound of feet.

"_How dare you!_" There was a moment of surprise and then the four broke out in guffaws of laughter.
"Well, hang me if it isn't the little girl we saw this morning," shouted Dudley, without, however, stopping the torture of the defenseless Susan Jemima.

"Where did _you_ drop from ?" "Ne'm min' where I dropped from," commanded the wrathful Virgie with her dark eyes like twin stars of hate.