Mr. Boyd!--would you just
give a hand? Here I am, under Purgatory Mountain. Darling--take this
thing away! Darling--Darling! Men!--Colonel Cleave!--Boys--boys--" All
the brain began to think. "O God, send somebody!"

When Purgatory Mountain was lifted from his shoulder and arm he fainted.
Water, brought in a cap from a neighbouring puddle and dashed in his
face, brought him to. "Thar now!" said Billy, "I certainly air glad to
see that you air alive!" Coffin groaned. "It must ha' hurt awful! S'pose
you let me look before I move you?" He took out a knife and gently slit
the coat away. "Sho! I know that hurts! But you got first to the gun!
You ran like you was possessed, and you yelled, and you was the first to
touch the gun. Thar now! I air a-tying the han'kerchief from your head
around your arm, 'cause there's more blood--"

"They'll have to cut it off," moaned Coffin.

"No, they won't. Don't you let 'em! Now I air a-going to lift you and
carry you to the nearest house. All the boys have run on after the
Yanks."

He took up his sergeant and moved off with an easy step. Coffin uttered
a short and piteous moaning like a child. They presently met a number of
grey soldiers. "We've druv them--we've druv them! The 37th's down there.
Just listen to Rockbridge!--Who've you got there?"

"Sergeant Coffin," said Billy. "He air right badly hurt! He was the
first man at the gun. He fired, an' then he got hold of the sponge staff
and laid about him--he was that gallant. The men ought to 'lect him
back. He sure did well."

The nearest house flung open its doors. "Bring him right in here--oh,
poor soldier! Right here in the best room!--Run, Maria, and turn down
the bed. Oh, poor boy! He looks like my Robert down at Richmond! This
way--get a little blackberry wine, Betty, and the scissors and my roll
of lint--"

Billy laid him on the bed in the best room. "Thar now! You air all
right. The doctor'll come just as soon as I can find him, 'n' then I'll
get back to the boys--Wait--I didn't hear, I'll put my ear down. You
couldn't lose all that blood and not be awful weak--"

"I'd be ashamed to report now!" whispered Coffin. "Maybe I was wrong--"

"Sho!" said Billy. "We're all wrong more or less. Here, darn you, drink
your wine, and stop bothering!"

Across the Shenandoah Stonewall Jackson and the 37th Virginia came down
from the heights with the impetuosity of a torrent. Behind them poured
other grey troops. On the cliff heads Poa