“Better leave me where I am, Yanks,” said he; “’case, if I get well, I shall be the death of some of you. You kin shoot me through the head if you like.”
“Don’t consarn yourself about us, reb,” replied Hapgood. “We’ll take good care that you don’t hurt yourself, or any one else, while you are in our hands.”
“Mebbe you will, Yanks; but, just as sure as you was born, I’ll hev the heart’s blood of that younker as fotched Tom Myers down.”
“Who’s Tom Myers?” demanded the veteran.
“The man that you Yanks killed this forenoon.”
“Whose heart’s blood do you want?”
“That younker with the badge on his shoulder; the un I chased in.”
“He didn’t kill Tom Myers, or any other man.”
“Show me the man, then,” growled the rebel, now beginning to feel the pain of his wound.
“I’m your man. I brought Tom Myers down,” replied Hapgood, anxious to remove any cause of peril from his protégé.