Fact! They'd a' been at Wildcat last Friday ef we hedn't skeered 'em so.

They stopt an' hunted the whole country round for bushwhackers afore they'd move ary other step." "But who are you ?" asked Harry, looking again at his companion's butternut garb.
"I'm called Long Jim Forner, an' I've the name o' bein' the pizenest Union man in the Rockassel Mountains.

Thar's a good s'tifkit o' my p'litical principles" (pointing with his thumb to where lay the men who had felln under their bullets).

Harry looked again in that direction.
Part of the squad were looking apprehensively toward him, as if they feared a volley from bushwhackers concealed near him, and others were taking from the bodies of the dead the weapons, belts, and other articles which it was not best to leave for the pursuers, and still others were pointing to the rapidly growing distance between them and main body, apparently adjuring haste in following.
The great mental and bodily strain Harry had undergone since he had first heard the sound of cannon in the morning at the foot of Wildcat should have made him desperately weary.

But the sight of the man falling before his gun had fermented in his blood a fierce intoxication, as unknown, as unsuspected before as the passion of love had been before its first keen transports thrilled his heart.