I begins to fear I ain't plugged at all; that I've fainted away on a field of battle an' doo to become the scandal of two armies.

I never feels so weak an' sick! "'I've got one chance left an' trembles as I plays it; I lifts up my right boot.

I win; about a quart of blood runs out.

Talk of reprievin' folks who's sentenced to death! Gents, their emotions is only imitations of what I feels when I finds that the Yanks done got me an' nary doubt.

It's all right--a rifle bullet through my ankle! "'That night I'm mowed away, with twenty other wounded folks, in a little cabin off to one side, an' thar's a couple of doctors sizin' up my laig.
"'"Joe," says one, that a-way, "we've got to cut it off." "'But I votes "no" emphatic; I'm too young to talk about goin shy a laig.