one wuz.” We was all glad as we could be, but Tom was the gladdest of all because he had a bullet in the calf of his leg. When me and Jim heard that we didn't feel so brash as what we did before. It was hurting him considerable, and bleeding; so we laid him in the wigwam and tore up one of the duke's shirts for to bandage him, but he says: “Gimme the rags; I can do it myself.  Don't stop now; don't fool around here, and the evasion booming along so handsome; man the sweeps, and set her loose!  Boys, we done it elegant!--'deed we did.  I wish _we'd_ a had the handling of Louis XVI., there wouldn't a been no 'Son of Saint Louis, ascend to heaven!' wrote down in _his_ biography; no, sir, we'd a whooped him over the _border_--that's what we'd a done with _him_--and done it just as slick as nothing at all, too.  Man the sweeps--man the sweeps!” But me and Jim was consulting--and thinking.  And after we'd thought a minute, I says: “Say it, Jim.” So he says: “Well, den, dis is de way