What with the singing and the far-away thoughts that accompanied the song, Private O’Halloran failed to hear footsteps approaching until they sounded quite near.
“Halt!” he cried, seizing his rifle and springing to his feet. The newcomer wore the insignia of a Federal captain, seeing which, O’Halloran lowered his weapon and saluted. “Sure, sor, you’re not to mind me capers. I thought the inimy had me complately surrounded—I did, upon me sowl.”
“And I,” said the captain, laughing, “thought the Johnnies had caught me. It is a pleasant surprise. You are O’Halloran of the Sharp-shooters, I have heard of you—a gay singer and a great fighter.”
“Sure it’s not for me to say that same. I sings a little bechwane times for to kape up me sperits, and takes me chances, right and lift. You’re 70 takin’ a good many yourself, sor, so far away from the picket line. If I make no mistake, sor, it is Captain Somerville I’m talkin’ to.”
“That is my name,” the captain said.
“I was touchin’ elbows wit’ you at Gettysburg, sor.”
The captain looked at O’Halloran again. “Why, certainly!” he exclaimed. “You are the big fellow that lifted one of the Johnnies over the stone wall.”
“By the slack of the trousers. I am that same, sor. He was nothin’ but a bit of a lad, sor, but he fought right up to the end of me nose. The men was jabbin’ at ’im wit’ their bay’nets, so I sez to him, says I, ‘Come in out of the inclemency of the weather,’ says I, and thin I lifted him over. He made at me, sor, when I put ’im down, an’ it took two men for to lead ’im kindly to the rear. It was a warm hour, sor.”