jest rared up, and danced, and snorted, and acted as ef the smell of
powder and the noise had drove him half wild. I done my best, but
he wouldn’t give in, so I did; and what do you think that plucky
brute done? He wheeled slap round, and galloped back like a
hurricane, right into the thickest of the scrimmage!”
“Good for him!” cried Dan excitedly, while the other boys forgot
apples and nuts in their interest.
“I wish I may die ef I warn’t ashamed of myself,” continued Silas,
warming up at the recollection of that day. “I was mad as a hornet,
and I forgot my waound, and jest pitched in, rampagin’ raound like
fury till there come a shell into the midst of us, and in bustin’
knocked a lot of us flat. I didn’t know nothin’ for a spell, and when
I come-to, the fight was over just there, and I found myself layin’
by a wall of poor Major long-side wuss wounded than I was. My
leg was broke, and I had a ball in my shoulder, but he, poor old
feller! was all tore in the side with a piece of that blasted shell.”
“O Silas! what did you do?” cried Nan, pressing close to him with
a face full of eager sympathy and interest.
“I dragged myself nigher, and tried to stop the bleedin’ with sech
rags as I could tear off of me with one hand. But it warn’t no use,
and he lay moanin’ with horrid pain, and lookin’ at me with them
lovin’ eyes of his, till I thought I couldn’t bear it. I give him all the
help I could, and when the sun got hotter and hotter, and he began
to lap out his tongue, I tried to get to a brook that was a good piece
away, but I couldn’t do it, being stiff and faint, so I give it up and
fanned him with my hat. Now you listen to this, and when you hear
folks comin’ down on the rebs, you jest remember what one on ’em
did, and give him credit of it. I poor feller in gray laid not fur off,
shot through the lungs and dyin’ fast. I’d offered him my
handkerchief to keep the sun off his face, and he’d thanked me
kindly, for in sech times as that men don’t stop to think on which
side they belong, but jest buckle-to and help one another. When he
see me mournin’ over Major and tryin’ to ease his pain, he looked
up with his face all damp and white with sufferin’, and sez he,
‘There’s water in my canteen; take it, for it can’t help me,’ and he
flung it to me. I couldn’t have took it ef I hadn’t had a little brandy
in a pocket flask, and I made him drink it. It done him good, and I
felt as much set up as if I’d drunk it myself. It’s surprisin’ the good
sech little things do folks sometime;” and Silas paused as if he felt
again the comfort of that moment when he and his enemy forgot
their feud, and helped one another like brothers.
“Tell about Major,” cried the boys, impatient for the catastrophe.
“I poured the water over his poor pantin’ tongue, and ef ever a
dumb critter looked grateful, he did then. But it warn’t of much
use, for the dreadful waound kep on tormentin’ him, till I couldn’t
bear it any longer. It was hard, but I done it in mercy, and I know
he forgive me.”
“What did you do?” asked Emil, as Silas stopped abruptly with a
loud “hem,” and a look in his rough face that made Daisy go and
stand by him with her little hand on his knee.
“I shot him.”
Quite a thrill went through the listeners as Silas said that, for
Major seemed a hero in their eyes, and his tragic end roused all
their sympathy.
“Yes, I shot him, and put him out of his misery. I patted him fust,
and said, ‘Good-by;’ then I laid his head easy on the grass, give a
last look into his lovin’ eyes, and sent a bullet through his head. He