I saw on the other side a dim figure walkin' up an' down, rifle on shoulder.

Thought I noticed something familiar about it, an' the longer I watched the shorer I was.
"At last I crept right to the edge of the bank an' layin' down lest some fool who didn't know the manners of our war take a pot shot at me, I called out, 'Bill Brayton, you thick-headed rebel, are you well an' doin' well ?' "You ought to have seen him jump.

He stopped walkin', dropped his rifle in the hollow of his arm, looked the way my voice come and called out, likewise in a loud voice: 'Who's callin' me a thick-headed rebel?
Is it some blue-backed Yankee?
You know we see nothin' of you but your backs.
Come out in the light, an' I'll let some sense into you with a bullet.' "'Oh, no I won't,' says I, still layin' close, an' not mindin' his taunt 'bout seein' our backs only.

'You couldn't hit me if I stood up an' marked the place on my chest.

Nothin' will save you but them days on the plain in the blizzards when you was more useful with a shovel than you are with a rifle, 'cause to-morrow at sunrise we're goin' to cross this little river and tie all you fellows hand an' foot an' take you away as prisoners to Washington.' "That made him mighty mad, but the part 'bout the blizzards on the plains set him to thinkin', too.