A civilian's dress on the battle-field (a gray coat formed a part of mine) subjects the wearer to many dangers from his friends, as most war correspondents can testify.
While approaching the town, I stopped to slake my thirst at a well.

A group of our soldiers joined me while I was drinking.

I had drank very freely from the bucket, and transferred it to a soldier, when the resident of a neighboring house appeared, and informed us that the well had been poisoned by the Rebels, and the water was certain to produce death.

The soldiers desisted, and looked at me with much pity.
For a moment, I confess, the situation did not appear cheerful, but I concluded the injury, if any, was already done, and I must make the best of it.

The soldiers watched me as I mounted my horse, evidently expecting me to fall within a hundred yards.