"I always heard that was a right sma't State. How many Yanks might there be in it?"
"Enough to put an end to this war if they all would turn out," said Noel.
"That can't be so, sir," said the guard solemnly.
Noel in the dim light looked more closely at the soldier. He was more than usually stout and his good nature was apparent, not only in the tones of his voice, but in the friendly way in which he regarded his charges.
"Daggone! I don't believe the Yanks can fight, and yet I saw one the other day who was a great sight and had all gone to pieces."
"Who was he? What about him?" inquired Noel, aware that he was expected to follow up the implied question of the good-natured guard.
"Why, he had lost one hand; one leg had been shot away; he had only one eye; he had broken some bones, and a part of his liver had been cut out of him, and yet he was ready to fight to the last."
"I should n't think he would know who he was," said Dennis. "Faith! An' ye say he had only one arm, one leg, one eye? An' how about his ears?"
"They were both all right," replied the guard. "His nose looked, though, as if he dragged it along the ground."
"How did it all happen?" inquired Noel.