Jack was a nice feller.
By ginger, it hurt like thunder t' see ol' Jack jest git knocked flat.
We was a-standin' purty peaceable fer a spell, 'though there was men runnin' ev'ry way all 'round us, an' while we was a-standin' like that, 'long come a big fat feller.

He began t' peck at Jack's elbow, an' he ses: 'Say, where 's th' road t' th' river ?' An' Jack, he never paid no attention, an' th' feller kept on a-peckin' at his elbow an' sayin': 'Say, where 's th' road t' th' river ?' Jack was a-lookin' ahead all th' time tryin' t' see th' Johnnies comin' through th' woods, an' he never paid no attention t' this big fat feller fer a long time, but at last he turned 'round an' he ses: 'Ah, go t' hell an' find th' road t' th' river!' An' jest then a shot slapped him bang on th' side th' head.

He was a sergeant, too.

Them was his last words.

Thunder, I wish we was sure 'a findin' our reg'ments t'-night.