I am used up." "Pull up, pull up, my boy!" "I can't." "But I don't want to leave you here.

They'll murder you--cut your throat, like a dog." "I will hide myself in the bushes till I get a little more strength." "Try it a little longer.

You are too good a fellow to be butchered like a calf," added the generous Zouave.
But it was no use to plead with him, for exhausted nature refused to support him, and he dropped upon the ground like a log.
"Poor fellow! I would carry you in my arms if I could." "Save yourself if you can," replied Tom, faintly.
The kind-hearted fireman was sorry to leave him, but he knew that one who wore his uniform could expect no mercy from the rebels.

They had been too terrible upon the battle-field to receive any consideration from those whom they had so severely punished.

He was, therefore, unwilling to trust himself to the tender mercies of the cavalry, who were sweeping the fields to pick up prisoners; and after asking Tom's name and regiment, he reluctantly left him.
Tom had eaten nothing since daylight in the morning, which, added to the long march, and the intense excitement of his first battle-field, had apparently reduced him to the last extremity.