"Knock open that bar'l, Bill," said the sergeant.
Bill did so. The sergeant, thrusting in his hand, pulled out a fat turkey and a roll of butter.
"Good!" said he. "Now let's see what's in that box."
Smash went Bill's axe into the side of the box.
"Good again!" said the sergeant, taking out a chicken, several tumblers of jelly, and a great pound-cake, which latter made me feel quite homesick. "Now, Bill," continued the sergeant, "let's have breakfast."
City Point was a stirring place at that time. It was General Grant's headquarters, and the depot of all supplies for the army; and here I found the large hospitals which I meant to search for Andy, although I scarcely hoped to find him.
Into hospital-tents at one end and out at the other, looking from side to side at the long white rows of cots, and inquiring as I went, I searched long and almost despairingly, until at last—there he was, sitting on his cot, his head neatly bandaged, writing a letter!
Coming up quietly behind him, I laid my hand on his shoulder with: "Andy, old boy, have I found you at last? I thought you were killed!"
"Why, Harry!—God bless you!"
The story was soon told. "A clip in the head, you see, Harry, out there among the trees when the Johnnies came down on us, yelling like demons,—all got black before me as I reeled and fell. By and by, coming to myself a little, I begged a man of a strange regiment to help me off, and so I got down here. It's nothing much, Harry, and I'll soon be with you again,—not nearly so bad as that poor fellow over there, the man with the black hair. His is a wonderful case. He was brought in the same day I was, with a wound in the head which the doctors said was fatal. Every day we expected him to die; but there he lies yet, breathing very low, conscious, but unable to speak or to move hand or foot. Some of his company came yesterday to see him. They had been with him when he fell, had supposed him mortally wounded, and had taken all his valuables out of his pockets to send home—among them was an ambrotype of his wife and child. Well, you just should have seen that poor fellow's face when they opened that ambrotype and held it before his eyes! He couldn't speak or reach out his hand to take the picture; and there he lay, convulsed with feeling, while tears rolled down his cheeks."