"I certainly can," said the surgeon, "but judging from the noise out there in front, you'll lie out there with him if you go beyond the breastworks." "You get your chloroform ready," said Seaman, "and I'll get the man." A few minutes later Elisha was seen by his astonished comrades crawling along the bullet-torn turf on his way to the wounded man. "Hi there, come back, you lump-head!" yelled his bunkie. "Don't you see the fellow is a Reb? You'll get killed." "I wouldn't let a dog suffer the way that fellow's suffering," yelled back Elisha, waddling along on his hands and knees like a woodchuck. He finally reached the officer, forced a little whiskey into his mouth and prepared to lift him up on his back. "Cheer up, old man," he said. "I've got a good surgeon back there who says he can fix you up. If I can only get you on my back, we'll be safe in a minute." "You'll be safe enough," gasped the other somewhat ungratefully, Seaman thought, "but there will be a dozen bullets through me." There seemed to be something in that statement. Elisha decided that it would be a cruel kindness to turn this man into a target for the bullets which were coming across the field and make him act as his involuntary shield. "I'll tell you what I'll do, General," Seaman said finally; "I'll get you up and then I'll back down to our lines. If any one gets hit, it'll be me. He was as good as his word. Although the wounded officer was a large man, Seaman got a fireman's-lift on him, swung him over his shoulders and then facing the Confederate lines, slowly backed his way toward safety. At first the Confederate fire redoubled as the men in gray thought that he was simply effecting the capture of one of their men. When, however, they realized that he was protecting one of their own officers from their fire with his own body, all along the line the fusillade of musketry died down and there came down the wind in its place the sound of a storm of cheers which swept from one end of the Confederate position to the other. Seaman covered the last fifty yards of his dangerous journey without a shot being fired at him except the shot and shell from the batteries which were being worked too far back for the gunners to know what was going on. The surgeon with whom he had spoken had been attracted to the front by the shouts and cheers both from the Confederate lines and from Seaman's own comrades and was the first to help him over the breastworks. "You're a great fool," he said. "I thought you were talking about one of our men, but so long as you brought this poor Reb in at the risk of your life, I'll certainly cure him." And he did.