[440] “But, doctor--” “ No buts. Here, take this; drink it all. That will do. I will be here in the morning. Good-night!” Spaddon was in excellent pulse in the morning, but I had no time to listen to him. In the afternoon, however, he was well enough to be helped out to the piazza for a breath of the summer air (I say “helped,” for he had been knocked off his horse by the blow he got, or by something else, and was severely bruised about the body), and there, sitting in a comfortable chair, he finished his story, as follows:
It was within three miles of Richmond that we fought that day, a long and bloody battle, as you know. At night both parties were out picking up their dead and wounded, according to agreement. I had formed a plan in my head, and now I put it into practice. It was desperate, but so was I. There were a good many of both sides, but chiefly rebels, fallen in a bit of scrubby swamp-wood. They hadn't begun to search in there yet. I crept about there till I found what I wanted. I tied a bloody handkerchief round my head and jaw, stripped off my uniform, put on that of a dead rebel, clapped mine on him somehow, and lay down, waiting. After awhile they came along with torches, and began to search. 0, doctor! I can tell you I did not feel --“I can fancy your feelings, Spaddon; but be brief. They found you, took you for one of their wounded, and carried you into the city, eh?”-- Yes, sir, in a wagon, with a lot of others. It was dark as pitch by this time. I watched my chance, and when we got into the city, in a dark spot, before we reached the better lit streets, I slipped down without
