A stream of blood on his jacket matched its crimson trimmings.
"Don't go off and leave my guns, after I've helped you.

Do not, for the love of Heaven! I've saved them so far.

Bring them off with you." Harry looked inquiringly around upon the less than one hundred survivors, who gathered about him, and had heard the passionate appeal.
Every face was set with mortal desperation.

An Irish boy on the left was kissing a cross which he had drawn from his bosom.
The tears which strong men shed in wild fits of rage were rolling down the cheeks of Edwards, Bolton, and others.
"I don't want to live always!" shouted Kent with an oath; "let's take the -- --- guns!" "I don't want no better place to die than right here!" echoed Abe, still more savagely profane.

"Le's have the guns, or sink into hell getting 'em!" The remnant of the Rebel regiment had broken cover and rushed for the guns.
"Attention!" shouted Harry.