“Thar’s a Major Sayres we meets up with once in Wolfville,—­he’s thar on cattle matters with old man Enright—­an’ I recalls how he grows absorbin’ touchin’ some of his adventures in that War.

“Thar’s a passel of us, consistin’ of Boggs, Tutt, Cherokee, an’ Texas Thompson, an’ me, who’s projectin’ ’round the Red Light when Enright introdooces this Major Sayres.  Him an’ Enright’s been chargin’ about over by the Cow Springs an’ has jest rode in.  This Major is easy an’ friendly, an’ it ain’t longer than the third drink before he shows symptoms of bein’ willin’ to talk.

“‘Which I ain’t been in the saddle so long,’ says the Major, while him an’ Enright is considerin’ how far they goes since sunup, ’since Mister Lee surrenders.’

“‘You takes your part, Major,’ says Enright, who’s ropin’ for a reminiscence that a-way, ‘in the battles of the late war, I believes.’

“‘I should shorely say so,’ says the Major.  ’I’m twenty-two years old, come next grass, when Texas asserts herse’f as part of the confed’racy, an’ I picks up a hand an’ plays it in common with the other patriotic yooths of my region.  Yes, I enters the artillery, but bein’ as we don’t have no cannon none at the jump I gets detailed as a aide ontil something resemblin’ a battery comes pokin’ along.  I goes through that carnage from soup to nuts, an’ while I’m shot up some as days go by, it’s allers been a source of felic’tation to me, personal, that I never slays no man myse’f.  Shore, I orders my battery to fire, later when I gets a battery; an’ ondoubted the bombardments I inaug’rates adds to an’ swells the ghost census right along.  But of my own hand it’s ever been a matter of congratoolations to me that I don’t down nobody an’ never takes a skelp.

“’As I turns the leaves of days that’s gone I don’t now remember but one individyooal openin’ for blood that ever presents itse’f.  An’ after considerin’ the case in all its b’arin’s, I refooses the opportunity an’ the chance goes glidin’ by.  As a result thar’s probably one more Yank than otherwise; an’ now that peace is yere an’ we-all is earnestly settlin’ to be brothers No’th and South, I regyards that extra Yank as a advantage.  Shore, he’s a commoonal asset.’

“‘Tell us how you fails to c’llect this Yankee, Major,’ says Faro Nell:  ‘which I’m plumb interested every time that some one don’t get killed.’

“‘I reecounts that exploit with pleasure,’ says, the Major, bowin’ p’lite as Noo Orleans first circles an’ touchin’ his hat to Nell.  ’It’s one day when we’re in a fight.  The line of battle is mebby stretched out half a mile.  As I su’gests, I’m spraddlin’ ’round permiscus with no stated arena of effort, carryin’ despatches an’ turnin’ in at anything that offers, as handy as I can.  I’m sent final with a dispatch from the left to the extreme right of our lines.