"I'm only a private, and this is my sergeant." "Thin ye ought to change places, me boy .-- Give orders to your min to carry me out of this, Serjint." "I'm about ready to tell the lads to put an end to a traitor to his country." "Tchah! Ye daren't do annything o' the kind, Serjint, for it would be murther.

This is my counthry, and I'm a prisoner of war." "Let him be, Sergeant, and we'll get him into the camp .-- Can you sit on a horse, sir ?" I said.
"Sure, how do I know, boy, till I thry?
I've been lying under that dead baste till I don't seem to have any legs at all, at all.

Ye must lift me on." "Officer and a gentleman!" said the Sergeant scornfully.

"I never heard an Irish gentleman with a brogue like that.

I believe you're one of the rowdy sort that call themselves patriots." "Sure, and I am," cried our prisoner.