Samuel Clemens had by this time decided, like Lee, that he would go with his State and lead battalions to victory.  The “battalion” in this instance consisted of a little squad of young fellows of his own age, mostly pilots and schoolmates, including Sam Bowen, Ed Stevens, and Ab Grimes, about a dozen, all told.  They organized secretly, for the Union militia was likely to come over from Illinois any time and look up any suspicious armies that made an open demonstration.  An army might lose enthusiasm and prestige if it spent a night or two in the calaboose.

So they met in a secret place above Bear Creek Hill, just as Tom Sawyer’s red-handed bandits had gathered so long before (a good many of them were of the same lawless lot), and they planned how they would sell their lives on the field of glory, just as Tom Sawyer’s band might have done if it had thought about playing “War,” instead of “Indian” and “Pirate” and “Bandit” with fierce raids on peach orchards and melon patches.  Then, on the evening before marching away, they stealthily called on their sweethearts—­those who had them did, and the others pretended sweethearts for the occasion—­and when it was dark and mysterious they said good-by and suggested that maybe those girls would never see them again.  And as always happens in such a case, some of them were in earnest, and two or three of the little group that slipped away that night never did come back, and somewhere sleep in unmarked graves.

The “two Sams”—­Sam Bowen and Sam Clemens—­called on Patty Gore and Julia Willis for their good-by visit, and, when they left, invited the girls to “walk through the pickets” with them, which they did as far as Bear Creek Hill.  The girls didn’t notice any pickets, because the pickets were away calling on girls, too, and probably wouldn’t be back to begin picketing for some time.  So the girls stood there and watched the soldiers march up Bear Creek Hill and disappear among the trees.

The army had a good enough time that night, marching through the brush and vines toward New London, though this sort of thing grew rather monotonous by morning.  When they took a look at themselves by daylight, with their nondescript dress and accoutrements, there was some thing about it all which appealed to one’s sense of humor rather than to his patriotism.  Colonel Ralls, of Ralls County, however, received them cordially and made life happier for them with a good breakfast and some encouraging words.  He was authorized to administer the oath of office, he said, and he proceeded to do it, and made them a speech besides; also he sent out notice to some of the neighbors—­to Col.  Bill Splawn, Farmer Nuck Matson, and others—­that the community had an army on its hands and perhaps ought to do something for it.  This brought in a number of contributions, provisions, paraphernalia, and certain superfluous horses and mules, which converted the battalion into a cavalry, and made it possible