HEZEKIAH. Now you’ve hit me where I bile over. When the fightin’ fust commenced, I thought I wan’t no great shakes er gettin’ shot for thirteen dollars a month, till one day one er them bumbshells come along and peeled the whole hind eend of my trowsers off. That made me madder than a kicked hornet. I just got a bead on my old shooter, and I let her sliver right into um. I shouldn’t wonder if I killed thirty or forty er them darn skunks. I had four fingers and a half in that gun. SHERMAN. Quite a good beginning, sir. HEZEKIAH. Ye see when I get my dander up something has got to come, or bust. How long do you suppose the old general is goin’ ter keep us out here killin’ them critters? I’d jest like ter give him a piece er my brains on that. SHERMAN. Well, sir, what would you do to make the machine work faster? HEZEKIAH. Well, I should pizen their grub. You tell him that and I shouldn’t wonder ef he’d dew it. They say he’s a dam rough old critter; but he can spile more Jersey pizen than any other critter this side er sundown. Say, how long have you been in this machine? SHERMAN. About thirty years, sir. HEZEKIAH. You git out! Why you must be chock full er bullets by this time. I spose you’d feel kinder lonesome if ye didn’t have two or three pounds on ’em in ye all the time. I like ter had the daylights knocked out er me yesterday. One er them bumbshells struck a tree jest over my head, when I was fodderin’ up, and it sp’ilt forty cents’ worth er vittles for me in less than two minnits. If that bumbshell had hit jest seventeen inches lower, Sal. Rideout would er bin out jest my figger exactly. I quit eatin’ then, and went inter my tent to fix up my shirt collar, so if I got shot, I would lay out handsome, and who do you s’pose I see crawlin’ under the back er the general’s tent, when the guard wan’t lookin’? SHERMAN. I have not the least idea, sir. HEZEKIAH. A dam sneakin’ skunk of a rebel, with a knife in his mouth. When I got in there, he tried ter hide under the general’s bunk. The way I placed that old hob-nailed cowhide under the lower eend er his jacket, would er upset a meetin’-house. I’ll be darned if that critter didn’t up and snap a pistol right in my face. I jest laid down my gun, and if I didn’t plow and harrer his anatomy, you can dig me out for a hog’s trough, and kiss me for his mother. SHERMAN. What became of the man, sir? HEZEKIAH. I jist wasted him all over half an acre, fore he got away. (_Hez. suddenly stops and presses his hand on his belly, doubling up._) SHERMAN. What is the matter, sir? HEZEKIAH. It’s my old colic comin’ agin. I got ter go and git a gin sling. (_Dashes his gun in Sherman’s hands, knocking him half down._) Jest hold my old shooter. (_Dashes out at L._)