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    Software name: appdown
    Software type: Microsoft Framwork

    size: 695MB


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      "This your day for taking a bath, Si?""Never do it in the world, Pap," protested Si. "Better burn it up at once. It'd be the next worst thing to givin' it back to him. It'd jest be pamperin' and encouragin' a lot o' galoots that lay around the hospitals to keep out o' fights. None o' the wounded or really sick'd git the benefit of a cent of it. They wuz all sent away weeks ago to Nashville, Louisville, and back home. You jest ought to see that bummer gang. Last week me and Shorty wuz on fatigue duty down by one o' the hospitals. There wuzzent nobody in the hospital but a few 'shell-fever' shirks, who're too lazy to work on the fortifications, and we saw a crowd of civilians and men in uniform set down to a finer dinner than you kin git in any hotel. Shorty wanted to light some shells and roll in amongst 'em, but I knowed that it'd jest make a muss that we'd have to clean up afterward."

      The next morning the Orderly-Sergeant said:

      They came back loaded with stuff, which they dumped down on the ground before the prisoners, with the brief remark:They went to the clump of brush where they had hidden their haversacks and guns. Mrs. Bolster eagerly examined the precious package of coffee.


      There was a dangerous gleam in Si's and Shorty's eyes, but they kept their lips tightly closed.Corveth answered for her. "I take it, it is not necessary to go into Riever's motives in this trial. But we are prepared to show a motive just the same. Do you remember the Riever divorce case three years ago?"


      Co. Q was advanced to picket the north bank of the river, but the moment it reached the top of the hill overlooking the stream it had to deploy as skirmishers, and Enfield bullets began to sing viciously about its ears.Si and Shorty had had successes enough since their enlistment to develop a self-confidence which might be pardoned if it expanded into self-sufficiency and vanity.


      "O, for the love o' God, Mister, don't shoot me," yelled Bushrod, whirling around, with uplifted arms. "I'm too wicked to die, an' I've got a fambly dependin' on me.""Wall, we're in fur it, anyway," said Shorty. "Let's take down the bed 'n' turn in!"