"I felt powerful sorry when Bill told me good-bye, and so did he.
I ain't seen or heard of him since 'till to-night, when I was cruisin'
down there by the side of the river in the dark an' keepin' under cover
of the bushes. Had no intention of shootin' anybody. Just wanted to
take a look. I saw on the other side a dim figure walkin' up an' down,
rifle on shoulder. Thought I noticed something familiar about it,
an' the longer I watched the shorer I was.
"At last I crept right to the edge of the bank an' layin' down lest
some fool who didn't know the manners of our war take a pot shot at me,
I called out, 'Bill Brayton, you thick-headed rebel, are you well an'
doin' well?'
"You ought to have seen him jump. He stopped walkin', dropped his rifle
in the hollow of his arm, looked the way my voice come and called out,
likewise in a loud voice: 'Who's callin' me a thick-headed rebel?
Is it some blue-backed Yankee? You know we see nothin' of you but your
backs. Come out in the light, an' I'll let some sense into you with a
bullet.'
"'Oh, no I won't,' says I, still layin' close, an' not mindin' his taunt
'bout seein' our backs only.
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