They was a cur'ous look in his eyes--kind o' skeered like.

Seemed so I'd seen him afore somewheres.
"'I fancy ye're a good shot, sir--a good shot, sir--what--what ?' he says to Jack, an' the words come as fast as a bird's twitter.
"I've had a lot o' practise,' says our boy.
"'Kin ye kill that bird--what--what ?" says he, p'intin' at a hawk that were a-cuttin' circles in the air.
"'If he comes clus' 'nough,' says Jack.
"I passed him the loaded pistol.

In 'bout two seconds he lifted it and bang she went, an' down come the hawk.
"Them fellers all looked at one 'nother.
"'Gin'ral, shake hands with this 'ere boy,' says the man with the skeered eyes.

'If he is a Yankey he's a decent lad--what--what ?' "The Gin'ral shook hands with Jack an', says he: 'Young man, I have no doubt o' 'yer curidge or yer decency.' "A grand pair o' hosses an' a closed coach druv up an' the ol' what-whatter an' two other men got into it an' hustled off 'cross the field towards the pike which it looked as if they was in a hurry.
'Fore he were out o' sight a military amb'lance druv up.

Preston come over to us an' says he: "'We better be goin'.' "'Do ye know who he were ?' asks Jack.
"'If ye know ye better fergit it,' says Preston.
"'How could I?
He were the King o' England,' says Jack.