Chapter 7

It took the rest of the morning and most of the afternoon,but Caleb finally stumbled upon his discarded shirt,half-buried in mud and covered with paw prints.He picked it up,shook it out the best he could,and slipped his arms into the shredded sleeves.The buttons were gone.Pulling it shut across his chest,he untied the blanket around his waist and tucked the shirt down,then reknotted the blanket.The shirt was cold and damp;the fabric stuck to his back,clammy in the shadows.He’d need to see the sutler about a new shirt when he got back to his camp—the major would pitch a fit if he saw Caleb wearing this rag.