"Thank God! You must do your best for him."
"I will, sir."
They placed him on a settee on one side of the room, and the doctor dressed his wounds.
"I saw him fall," came in a low tone from a man in the opposite corner, whose foot had been shot off. He had fainted from loss of blood and the leg had been bound up until it could be properly dressed. "I belong to his company. Twice we were driven back—half our men had fallen—but he drew his sword and rushed on again, calling us to follow him—then a Yankee officer struck at him, so he knocked his sword back and ran him through—but a couple of sogers came at the Captain with their bayonets—that's the last I saw, for I got dizzy and fell—I didn't think I was hurt."
"You've said enough," said the doctor sharply. "We don't want you to faint again."
"All right, sir."
There was a deep flesh wound in Captain Morris' thigh and a bayonet thrust in his body, while the top of his scalp had been torn to the skull by a bullet.
"Pretty badly knocked out," said the doctor, "but not hopeless. His pupils are still sensitive."
The General expressed satisfaction as with Battersby he left the house. Several other shanties near by were being utilized for the wounded.
"I suppose the owners all fled on the approach of battle," said the General to Colonel Scott, who had charge of the relief department.