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THREE:"O, that bog-trottin' old section boss, that hairy-handed artist with the long shovel, is there, is he with his crucifix and his prayers to the Saints. That's all right. He's bin stormin' and swearin' ever since the fight begun; because he's bin obliged to stay inside and shoot, and instid of making a grand rush and settling things, according to Donnybrook Fair rules. I tell you what you do. You work the boys carefully down through the brush toward the race, and git 'em into position in easy range of the rebels, covering 'em behind logs. I'll take a circuit around to the left, and git over to the hill, behind the rebels, and near enough the mill for Hennessey to hear me. Then I'll fire a shot and yell for Hennessey. He knows my voice, and he'll bring his men out like a pack o' hornets. Then you let into the rebels from your side. They can't git across the race at you, and we'll have 'em where we kin whipsaw 'em.""This mornin' the Captains 's bin going down so fast that I couldn't keep track of 'em, till Capt. McGillicuddy was the only one left, an' he's swearin' that the rebels never run no bullet that could hit him. The Adjutant's acting Lootenant-Kunnel an' Major both to-wunst, and shootin' a gun when he hain't nothin' else to do. But the boys that's left 's stayers, I tell you. They've jest stuck their toenails into that hilltop there, an' every time them howlin' rebels come yippin' an' ki-yi-in' out o' the woods they send 'em back on the dead run. But they want you up there bad. You've got more than's left in the regiment. Hurry up. I'll be back with you jest as soon's I kin find a doctor to cooper me up a little."

THREE: