”

We was all glad as we could be, but Tom was the gladdest of all because he had a bullet in the calf of his leg.

When me and Jim heard that we didn’t feel as brash as what we did before. It was hurting him considerable, and bleeding; so we laid him in the wigwam and tore up one of the duke’s shirts for to bandage him, but he says:

“Gimme the rags; I can do it myself. Don’t stop now; don’t fool around here, and the evasion booming along so handsome; man the sweeps, and set her loose! Boys, we done it elegant! — ’deed we did. I wish we’d ’a’ had the handling of Louis XVI., there wouldn’t ’a’ been no ’Son of Saint Louis, ascend to heaven!’ wrote down in his biography; no, sir, we’d