When I returned to consciousness the first objects I saw were the huge brown whiskers of Lincoln, then Lincoln himself, then the pale face of the boy Jack; and, finally, the forms of several soldiers of my company.

I saw that I was in my own tent and stretched upon my camp-bed.
"What ?--howl--what's the matter!--what's this ?" I said, raising my hands to the bandage of wet linen that bound my temples.
"Keep still, Cap'n," said Bob, taking my hand from the fillet and placing it by my side.
"Och! by my sowl, he's over it; thank the Lord for His goodness!" said Chane, an Irish soldier.
"Over what?
what has happened to me ?" I inquired.
"Och, Captin, yer honour, you've been nearly murthered, and all by thim Frinch scoundhrels; bad luck to their dirty frog-atin' picthers!" "Murdered! French scoundrels! Bob, what is it ?" "Why, yer see, Cap'n, ye've had a cut hyur over the head; and we think it's them Frenchmen." "Oh! I remember now; a blow--but the Death ?--the Death ?" I started up from the bed as the phantom of my night adventure returned to my imagination.
"The Death, Cap'n ?--what do yer mean ?" inquired Lincoln, holding me in his strong arms.
"Oh! the Cap'n manes the skilleton, maybe," said Chane.
"What skeleton ?" I demanded.
"Why, an owld skilleton the boys found in the chaparril, yer honner.
They hung it to a three; and we found yer honner there, with the skilleton swinging over ye like a sign.

Och! the Frinch bastes!" I made no further inquiries about the "Death." "But where are the Frenchmen ?" asked I, after a moment.
"Clane gone, yer honner," replied Chane.
"Gone ?" "Yes, Cap'n; that's so as he sez it," answered Lincoln.
"Gone! What do you mean ?" I inquired.
"Desarted, Cap'n." "How do you know that ?" "Because they ain't here." "On the island ?" "Searched it all--every bush." "But who?
which of the French ?" "Dubrosc and that 'ar boy that was always with him--both desarted." "You are sure they are missing ?" "Looked high and low, Cap'n.

Gravenitz seed Dubrosc steal into the chaparril with his musket.

Shortly afterwards we heern a shot, but thought nothin' of it till this mornin', when one of the sodgers foun' a Spanish sombrary out thar; and Chane heern some'dy say the shot passed through Major Twing's markey.