When I got up, I took his elmet under my harm, and proceeded
on my route. I was ashamed to tell the story straight, and I made the
best tale I could of the scrimmage, and showed the elmet in token that
it was a pretty rough fight. But the doctor, when he dressed the
wound, swore it never was made with a sword, nor a bullet, nor any
instrument he knew hon, and that he didn't think it was occasioned by
a fall, for it was neither insised, outsised, nor contused--but a
confusion of all three. He questioned me as close as a witness.
"'But,' sais I, 'doctor, there is no telling what himplements
Frenchmen ave. They don't fight like us, they don't. It was a runnin'
scrimmage, or handicap fight.' Yes, Sir, if it was hanywhere helse,
where it wouldn't show, it wouldn't be so bad, but there it is on the
face, and there is no denyin' of it."
Here the little woman made her appearance again, with the hat in her
hand, and said imploringly:
"Tom, doee put your hat on, that's a good soul. He don't take no care
of himself, Sir," she said, addressing herself to me. "He has seen a
deal of service in his day, and has three bullets in him now, and he
is as careless of hisself as if he didn't mind whether I was left
alone in the oulin' wilderness or not. Oh, Sir, if you heard the wild
beastesis here at night, it's dreadful. It's worse than the wolves in
the Pyreen, in Spain.
Pages:
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208