It looks," he continued, with a comprehensive glance at the firmament of Rebel camp-fires that made Murfreesboro seem the center of a ruddy Milky-way, "as if the climax is at last at hand.

Bragg, like the worm, will at last turn, and after a year of footraces we'll have a fight which will settle who is the superfluous cat in this alley.

There is certainly one too many." "The sooner it comes the better," said Harry firmly.

"It has to be sometime, and I'm getting very anxious for an end to this eternal marching and countermarching." "My winsome little feet," Kent Edwards put in plaintively, "are knobby as a burglar-proof safe, with corns and bunions, all of them more tender than a maiden's heart, and painful as a mistake in a poker hand.

They're the ripe fruit of the thousands of miles of side hills I've had to tramp over because of Mr.Bragg's retiring disposition.