"But here, I don't want any wurruds with the like o' ye .-- Help me up gently, boy, and let me see if I can't shtand." "Take hold of him on the other side," I said to the Sergeant, and he frowningly helped, so that we got our prisoner upon his feet.
"Ah!" he said, with a groan.

"I think I can manage it if ye lift me on a horse." Sandho was led up, and with a good deal of difficulty and a repetition of groans and allusions to the state of his lower members, the Captain was hoisted into the saddle, and after another draught of water he declared that he could "howld" out till we got him to the "docthor." "He doesn't look as if he could try to make a bolt of it," growled the Sergeant; "but you'd better throw the reins over your horse's head and lead him .-- And look here, Mr Officer and Gentleman, I'm very good with the revolver, so don't try to spur off." Our prisoner waved his hand contemptuously and turned to me.
"Sure, me wound and me fall put it all out of me head; but I had a man with me when I was hit, and we were cut off in the fight." "Yes," I said; "the poor fellow lies close here--dead." "Thin lade the horse round another way, boy.

I don't want to look at the poor lad.

Ah! I don't fale so faint now.

To think of me bad luck, though.