He came up haltingly, and in response to my questioning told me that he had been rejected by the hospital because he had been a Confederate soldier and it was against their rules to accept any but Union veterans.
I turned the stranger over to my sister, who prepared a meal for him while I went over to the adjutant's office to see what could be done.

I met General Emory in the adjutant's office, and on my promise to pay the ex-Confederate's bills, he gave me an order admitting him to the hospital.

Soon my new protege, who said his name was Jim White, was duly installed, and receiving the treatment of which he stood in sore need.
In a few weeks he had nearly recovered from the wound in his leg which had necessitated the use of his crutches.

Every day he came to my house to play with the children and to care for my horses, a service for which he gruffly refused to accept any pay.
Now and then he would borrow one of my rifles for a little practice.

I soon discovered that he was a splendid shot, as well as an unusually fine horseman.