Dan, you flat-headed, hump-backed,
round-shouldered, thin-chested, knock-kneed, club-footed son of a gun,
I was never so glad to see anybody before in my life.'
"His eyes were shinin' with delight an' I know mine was, too. Reunions
of old friends who for all each know have been dead a year or two,
clean blowed to pieces by shells, or shot through by a hundred rifle
bullets are powerful affectin'. He come down to the edge of the river
an' he shot questions across to me, an' I shot questions at him, an' I
felt as if a brother had riz from the dead. An' as we can't shake hands
we reaches out the muzzles of our guns and shakes them towards each other
in the most friendly way. Then another picket comes up, fellow by name
of Henderson, from Mississippi. Bill introduces him to his good old pal,
an' we three have a friendly talk. Guess they're down there yet, if you
want to see 'em. I liked that fellow, Henderson, too, though he was a
powerful boaster."
"All right," said Dick. "Lead on, but don't get us shot."
They went cautiously through the bushes to the bank of the river, and
then the sergeant blew softly between his fingers.
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