"Well, this little fellow by the colonel's tent may be the same one. He was a little Jew, who had been shot. A ball had just grazed the tips of two of his fingers and he was howling so loudly that I think you might have heard him here, if you had listened."
"Was he yelling with pain?"
"Oh, no!" laughed the chaplain. "He was crying for a pension. In fact, he was screaming for one. Yes, he wanted two pensions. When I saw him he was holding up the two fingers that had been scratched, and was whining, 'Oh, Scheneral! Oh, Scheneral! how much pensions I gets for heem? I dink I gets two pensions, maybe. One for each finger vat I lose.' A lot of the boys had gathered around the little fellow and they were having a good time as they listened to his complaints."
"Did he say where he was when he was shot?"
"No, I didn't hear anything about that."
"Maybe he is Levi. If he is, and you'll bring him here, Dennis and I soon can tell. Did he have shining black eyes?"
"Yes."
"And curly black hair?"
"Yes."
"And did he weigh about ninety pounds?"