ctor
when _well_, but mighty glad to see him when anything is the matter.

The Doctor, and all his brother "saw-bones" soon had enough to do for
other poor fellows, if not for us. Numbers of wounded men streamed past
us, asking the way to the hospitals, some, limping painfully along,
some, with arms in a sling, some, with blood streaming down over neck or
face, some, helped along by a comrade, some, borne on stretchers. It was
a battered looking procession; and yet, I suppose that people will be
surprised to hear, it was as _cheerful_ a lot of fellows, as you can
imagine. Wounded men coming from under fire are, as a rule, cheerful,
often jolly. Being able to get, honorably, from under fire, with the
mark of manly service to show, is enough to make a fellow cheerful, even
with a hole through him. Of course I am speaking now of the wounded who
can walk, and are not utterly disabled.

Eagerly we stopped those wounded men to ask how the fight was going.
Their invariable account was that it was all right. They spoke about
what heavy columns the enemy was putting in, but they said we were
pressing them back, and every one spoke of the dreadful carnage of the
Federals. One fellow said, after he was shot in the advancing line, he
had to come back over a place, over which there had been very stubborn
fighting, and which our men had carried, like a hurricane at last, and
as he expressed it, "Dead Yankees were _knee deep_ all over about four
acres of ground." The blood was running down and dropping, very freely,
off this man's arm, while he stood in the road and told us this.

These accounts of the wounded men from the line of battle put us in good
heart, which was not lessened by a long line of Federal prisoners being
marched to the rear, and the assurance by one of the guard that there
were "plenty more where these came from."

And so at last this long exciting day wore away. As dark fell the firing
ceased. We got some wood and made fires, and, pretty soon after, "old
Tom Armistead," our Commissary Sergeant, rode up. His appearance was
hailed with delight, as the promise of something to eat. These
transports were destined to be moderated when Tom told what he had to
say. He had ridden on from the wagons, far in the rear, and all he could
get was a few crackers, and a small bag of wet brown sugar. This he had
brought with him, across his horse.

Each man got two crackers and one handful of sugar. This disappeared in
a twinkl