"Is that you, Lanty?" said a voice near me.
"Ov coorse it is—barrin' the tip of an ear."
"Well, thank God, there are at least two of our troop left."
"And the captain here!"
I must have fainted from exhaustion and loss of blood, for after a time I was surprised to find my jacket open at the neck, and that I was propped against my dead horse by Dr. Hartshorn, who was binding up my cuts and scars, while Lanty O'Regan attended, with a short black dudeen in his mouth, which had been enlarged by a sword cut, and then roughly patched with plaster, which did not, however, prevent poor Lanty from talking.
"Me mouth, is it, I'm to take care ov, docthor dear? Sure, if it is only for the sake ov the girls, I'll do that same; but, be gorra! I wish that dirty Roosian had been holdin' on the horns of the new moon wid his fingers well greased, before I came across him."
"Are you sure the farrier-sergeant is dead?"
"Quite sure, docthor."
"You saw him get the sleeping draught?"
"Sure, the draught it was that finished him right off?"