“I’ll be danged if that wan’t the ugliest cuss as ever I tusseled with, breeches-holt, back-holt or rough-and-tumble.” This was his first ejaculation. “Are you injured?” anxiously inquired Wells. “Wal, let’s take a reconnoissance. Here’s a hole in this arm, that’s sp’iled the only good coat I ever had, dang it! Here’s a rip, too, in the collar, whar that critter’s knife tried to cut my windpipe. He _did_ scratch me thar, I believe,” he said, fingering his neck, down which the blood flowed freely. “By Jemima, ef I haven’t lost a finger!” he added, suddenly holding up his hand. “Now, that’s too bad, ef it is on the left hand. I rayther think the reb got a mouthful when he chawed that off!” And thus he would have continued for another ten minutes had not shouts from above aroused him. “Who’s come?” he asked. “Hinton and the battalion.” “Glory! And have the rebs been caught in a trap?” “I don’t know how many, but from the shots and shouts I don’t think many will be permitted to escape.” “All right. Now jist give us a lift, to see if my shanks is all right. There, that’s the juniper. Jist look at my back, and see if you find any holes that want plugging.” No “holes” were found, and the good-natured fellow came out of the combat with only flesh-wounds, save the loss of one finger from the left hand, which the guerrilla had bitten off. Nettleton was much exhausted, and was finally drawn up out of the gully with no little difficulty, when the men set up a shout which made the hills ring. “There, boys, that’ll pay for the bruises; and now I guess you’ll have to do me another favor—jist rub my shanks and the hinges in my back with a little whisky, if you can spare it.” In a moment a dozen pocket-flasks were produced and willing hands gave him a good rubbing, which gave his limbs new strength. It was evident that his muscles had been severely overtasked, for he was languid and incapable of exertion. Nettleton now narrated the particulars of his and Fall-leaf’s adventures. Soon the troops were out on the search for Captain Hayward, while, assisted by a couple of comrades, the wounded hero of the hour made his way down to the cabin of old Madge. The old creature received him kindly and at once bestirred herself to make him strong again. The air was soon odoriferous with the smell of distilling herbs. A prolonged shout, ere long, came rolling down the hill. Nettleton was aroused from a sleep into which he had fallen. His two comrades at once hurried out to ascertain its cause. Old Madge paused in her toil and said: “The captain’s found, I s’pose.” “Hooray!” yelled the invalid, now an invalid no longer. Springing from his bed he rushed out, and away he went up the hills in the direction of the still continuing noise. His companions, astonished at his sudden recovery, followed, and all were soon lost to sight.