“Ah!” cried the Major, darting a glance,
“This fellow’s the one that fired and spurred
Down hill, but met reserves below—
My boys, not Mosby’s—so we go!”
The Surgeon—bluff, red, goodly man—
Kneeled by the hurt one; like a bee
He toiled. The pale young Chaplain too—
(Who went to the wars for cure of souls,
And his own student-ailments)—he
Bent over likewise; spite the two,