"I--I can see the blood!" The wounded Southerner braced himself.
"No, dear, no," he strove to reassure her.

"It isn't anything; only a little scratch--from a Yank--that tried to get me.

But he didn't, though," the soldier added with a smile.

"I'm just--tired." The child regarded him in wondering awe, speaking in a half-breathed whisper: "Did he--did he _shoot_ at you ?" Her father nodded, with his hand on her tumbled hair.
"Yes, honey, I'm afraid he did; but I'm so used to it now I don't mind it any more.

Get me a drink of water, will you ?" As Virgie obeyed in silence, returning with the dripping gourd, the man went on: "I tried to get here yesterday; but I couldn't.