BIJAH (_down front_). Ha, ha! I've given them chaff enough for one day. It will give them something to talk about and keep them out of mischief. (_Exit_ R.; COLONEL GRAHAM _seats himself on stool outside tent_.) COL. Ah, major, already new life fills my veins; to know that I am with my men again. That seven days' fight is over at last; poor fellows! how many have answered their last call, and lie with white faces upturned to the sky; only the heavy dew for a winding-sheet; while the wounded are waiting for transports to take them back to Washington. POTTS. Those were hard days, colonel; but we _must_ succeed in the end. When we have gained the victory, some of those brave fellows, whose souls are as white as their faces, will, if they can look down upon their country, rejoice that they gave their lives for so glorious a cause. (GUARD _approaches with sentinel_.) SENT. Halt! who comes there? GUARD. Friend. SENT. Advance, friend, and give the countersign. (GUARD _gives the countersign in whisper_; KILROY _takes sentinel's place. The relieved sentinel falls behind guard and marches off._) MAJOR. Any orders, colonel? COL. No, major, go amongst the men if you will, and speak words of encouragement; I shall be my old self to-morrow. (POTTS _salutes, and exit past_ KILROY, _who salutes_. COLONEL _enters tent and writes at table_. KILROY, _pacing to and fro, suddenly starts and lowers musket_.) KIL. Halt! who comes there? (_No answer; paces again._) Plague take it! only the wind. (PETE _appears, crawling on hands and knees_.) KIL. Halt! who comes there? Advance, and give the countersign. PETE (_rising and coming forward_). 'Deed I can't sign nuffin, massa. KIL. (_dragging him forward_). Well, by the powers, if it ain't a shmall nagur. PETE. 'Deed, massa, I done mean no harm; I's scared blue, I is. KIL. Blue, is it? faith it must be navy blue thin, wid a coat of tan outshide it. Phat are yees doing here? PETE. I's only come to find my mammy. KIL. Foind yees mammy. It's a foine place yees come to luk for her; p'raps yees thinks she's a bowld sojer by in petticoats, ha, ha! PETE. Please, massa, I tought maybe, when she runned away, der Union men would be good to her, and let her stay wid dem. KIL. Bliss his heart, a good bit of faith he has thin, and Patrick Kilroy is the last man, though he has an Irish heart, that would lit any harm come to this shmall spal-peen. Corporal of the guard, post four. (_Enter_ CORPORAL.) KIL. (_with hand on_ PETE'S _shoulder_). Look here, sir. See what I've found crossing the line. Shure it's a bit of ould Africa. CORP. All right, I'll show him to the colonel. (KILROY _resumes march_; CORPORAL _leads_ PETE _to_ COLONEL'S _tent and salutes_.) COL. Well, what is it? CORP. A contraband discovered crossing the lines. COL. Very well, leave him to me. (CORPORAL _salutes and exit_.) COL. (_coming out of tent_). My fine fellow, what is your name? PETE. Dey neber done gib me one, massa, only Pete.