I should do so." "That may be.

Tom; that may be," added the veteran, taking off his cap and rubbing his bald head, as though a new idea had penetrated it.

"I didn't think of that." "He's a brave man, whoever he is, and whatever he is." "He must want to get away from 'em pretty bad, or he wouldn't have run that risk.

I shouldn't wonder if they hit him." "Perhaps he is wounded, and gone into the woods there to die," suggested Tom.
"Halloo!" shouted some one in the rear of them.
"There's your man," said Hapgood.
"Halloo!" cried the same voice.
"Halloo, yourself!" shouted Hapgood in reply to the hail.
The party halted, and after waiting a few moments, the rebel deserter came in sight.

He was apparently a man of fifty; and no mendicant of St.Giles, who followed begging as a profession, could have given himself a more wretched and squalid appearance, if he had devoted a lifetime to the study of making himself look miserable.