I run to Jack.
"'Be ye hit ?' I says.
"'I think his bullet teched me a little on the top o' the left shoulder,' says he.
"I see his coat were tore an' we took it off an' the jacket, an' I ripped the shirt some an' see that the bullet had kind o' scuffed its foot on him goin' by, an' left a track in the skin.

It didn't mount to nothin'.

The Doctor washed it off an' put a plaster on.
"'Looks as if he'd drawed a line on yer heart an' yer bullet had lifted his aim,' I says.

'Ye shoot quick, Jack, an' mebbe that's what saved ye.' "It looked kind o' neevarious like that 'ere Englishman had intended they was goin' to be one Yankee less.

Jack put on his jacket an' his coat an' we stepped over to see how they was gettin' erlong with the other feller.