He Noticed My Frankness, My Anxiety And Grief.
After A Few Words More In Explanation, He, Giving Me A Gentle Stroke
With His Sword, Told Me "If You Really Are An Honest Digger, I Do Not Want You,
Sir; You May Return To Your Tent."
Mr. Gordon - of the store of Gordon and M`Callum, on the left of the gully,
near the stockade - who had been made prisoner, and was liberated in the same
way, and at the same time as myself, was and is a living witness to the above.
On crossing the gully to return to my tent, an infernal trooper trotting
on the road to Ballaarat, took a deliberate aim at me, and fired
his Minie rifle pistol with such a tolerable precision, that the shot
whizzed and actually struck the brim of my cabbage-tree hat, and blew it
off my head. Mrs. Davis, who was outside her tent close by,
is a living witness to the above.
At this juncture I was called by name from Doctor Carr, and Father Smyth,
directed me by signs to come and help the wounded within the stockade.
Chapter LIX.
Quis Dabit Capiti Meo, Aquam Et Oculis Meis Fontem
Lacrymarum Et Plorabo Die Ac Nocte!
I hastened, and what a horrible sight! Old acquaintances crippled with shots,
the gore protruding from the bayonet wounds, their clothes and flesh burning
all the while. Poor Thonen had his mouth literally choked with bullets;
my neighbour and mate Teddy More, stretched on the ground, both his thighs
shot, asked me for a drop of water.
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