"He fold' de letter wha' was in his han' up, an' put it in he inside
pocket--right dyar on de lef' side; an' den he tole me he tho't mebbe
we wuz gwine hev some warm wuk in de nex' two or th'ee days, an arfter
dat ef Gord speared 'im he'd git a leave o' absence fur a few days,
an' we'd go home.

"Well, dat night de orders come, an' we all hed to git over to'ds
Romney; an' we rid all night till 'bout light; an' we halted right on
a little creek, an' we stayed dyah till mos' breakfas' time, an' I see
Marse Chan set down on de groun' 'hine a bush an' read dat letter over
an' over. I watch 'im, an' de battle wuz a-goin' on, but we hed orders
to stay 'hine de hill, an' ev'y now an' den de bullets would cut de
limbs o' de trees right over us, an' one o' dem big shells what goes
'_Awhar--awhar--awhar!_' would fall right 'mong us; but Marse Chan he
didn' mine it no mo'n nuthin'! Den it 'peared to git closer an'
thicker, an' Marse Chan he calls me, an' I crep' up, an' he sez:

"'Sam, we'se goin' to win in dis battle, an' den we'll go home an' git
married; an' I'se goin' home wid a star on my collar.' An' den he sez,
'Ef I'm wounded, kyar me home, yo' hear?' An' I sez, 'Yes, Marse
Chan.'

"Well, jes' den dey blowed boots an' saddles an' we mounted; an' de
orders come to ride 'roun' de slope, an' Marse Chan's company wuz de
secon'; an' when we got 'roun' dyah, we wuz right in it. Hit wuz de
wust place ever dis nigger got in. An' dey said, 'Charge 'em!' an' my
king! ef ever you see bullets fly, dey did dat day. Hit wuz jes' like
hail; an' we wen' down de slope (I long wid de res') an' up de hill
right to'ds de cannons, an' de fire wuz so strong dyar (dey hed a
whole rigiment o' infintrys layin' down dyar onder de cannons) our
lines sort o' broke an' stop; de cun'l was kilt, an' I b'lieve dey wuz
jes' 'bout to bre'k all to pieces, when Marse Chan rid up an' cotch
hol' de fleg an' hollers, 'Foller me!' an' rid strainin' up de hill
'mong de cannons. I seen 'im when he went, de sorrel four good lengths
ahead o' ev'y udder hoss, jes' like he use' to be in a fox-hunt, an'
de whole rigiment right arfter 'im. Yo' ain' nuvver hear thunder! Fust
thing I knowed, de roan roll' head over heels an' flung me up 'g'inst
de bank, like yo' chuck a nubbin over 'g'inst de foot o' de corn pile.
An' dat's what kep' me from bein' kilt, I 'specks. Judy she say she
think 'twuz Providence, but I think 'twuz de bank. Of co'se,
Providence put de bank dy