"What's the row? The long roll was beat just now, and the whole regiment is in line. What was that firing?" "We have captured this boat, and five prisoners, one of them wounded, if not dead." "Bully for you," replied the picket. They were soon joined by a squad of men, and Fred Pemberton and the wounded rebel were conveyed to the hospital, while the four prisoners were conducted to a secure place. Hapgood and Tom then hastened to the parade, where the regiment was drawn up, and reported the events which had just transpired. It was unanimously voted by officers and privates that the picket guard had done "a big thing," and they were warmly and generously commended for their skill and bravery. Hapgood and Tom requested permission to go to the hospital and see their companion. They found that the surgeon had already dressed his wound. "Will he die?" asked Tom, full of solicitude for his friend. "Die! no; it's a mere scratch. The ball ploughed into his cheek a little way," replied the surgeon. "It isn't a bad wound. He was more scared than hurt." "I am glad it is no worse," said Captain Benson, who, with fatherly solicitude for his men, had come to the hospital as soon as the company was dismissed. "But what ails you, Tom? You look pale." "Nothing, captain." "Are you sure?" "I don't think I am badly hurt. I believe one of those pistol balls grazed my side; but I hardly felt it." "Let me see," said the surgeon. The doctor opened Tom's coat, and his gray shirt was found to be saturated with blood. "That's a worse wound than Pemberton's. Didn't you know it, Tom?" "Well, of course I knew it; but I didn't think it was any thing," replied Tom, apologetically. "I knew it wouldn't do to drop down, or we should all be in Dixie in half an hour." "You are my man for the present," said the doctor, as he proceeded to a further examination of the wound. Tom was hit in the side by one of the pistol bullets. As I have not the surgeon's report of the case, I cannot give a minute description of it; but he comforted Hapgood and the captain with the assurance that, though severe, it was not a dangerous wound. "Tom Somers, there's a sergeant's warrant in Company K for one of you three men," said Captain Benson, when the patient was comfortably settled upon his camp bed. "The colonel told me to give him the name of the most deserving man in my company." "Give it to Tom," said Hapgood, promptly. "He led off in this matter, and ef't hadn't been for him, we should all have been on t'other side of the river, and p'raps on t'other side of Jordan, afore this time. And then, to think that the poor fellow stood by, and handled the boat like a commodore, when the life-blood was runnin' out of him all the time! It belongs to Tom." "Give it to Tom," added Fred, who lay near the patient.