Golly! but he's hard hit.

I guess that bullet found its billet.

There's not much hope when it's a belly-whopper.

Too bad, ain't it?
He was a bully old boy of a colonel; we all said so in the dragoons.

Only--to hell with those lances of yours, Berkley! What cursed good are they alongside a gun?
And I notice your regiment has its carbineers, too--which proves that your lances are no good or you wouldn't have twelve carbines to the troop.