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.

“No, Captain Benson,” interposed Tom, faintly.  “Hapgood is an old soldier, and deserves it more than I do.  Give it to him, and I shall be better satisfied than if you give it to me.”

“Tom Somers!” exclaimed old Hapgood, a flood of tears sliding down his furrowed cheeks, “I won’t stand nothin’ of the sort!  I’d jump into the river and drownd myself before I’d take it, after what you’ve done.”

“You are both worthy of it,” added Captain Benson.

“Please give it to Hapgood,” pleaded Tom.  “He first proposed going out after the little schooner.”

“Give it to Tom, cap’n.  It’ll help heal his wound,” said Hapgood.

“No; it would do me more good to have you receive it,” protested Tom.

“Well, here, I can’t have this battle fought in the hospital,” interposed the surgeon.  “They are good friends, captain, and whichever one you give it to, the other will be suited.  You had better settle the case at head-quarters.”

“If you please, Captain Benson, I would like to have Hapgood stay with me to-night, if he can be spared.”

The veteran was promptly detailed for hospital duty, and the captain returned to his quarters to decide the momentous question in regard to the sergeant’s warrant.

CHAPTER XXVI.

Tom is sentimental.

The little schooner which the picket guard had captured was loaded with valuable supplies for the rebels, which of course were confiscated without ceremony.  The mail bag which was on board contained a great many letters from traitors in Baltimore, some of whom were exposed by the capture of their treasonable correspondence.