"Seem like I ain't never see no raw day like dat, needer befo'
ner sence. Dey wa'n't no rain, but de wet des sifted down; mighty
raw day. De leaves on de groun' 'uz so wet dey don't make no
fuss, en I got in de woods, en w'enever I year de Yankees gwine
by, I des stop in my tracks en let un pass. I wuz stan'in' dat
away in de aidge er de woods lookin' out cross a clearin', w'en--
piff!--out come a little bunch er blue smoke fum de top er wunner
dem big lonesome-lookin' pines, en den--pow!
"Sez I ter myse'f, sez I: 'Honey, you er right on my route, en
I'll des see w'at kinder bird you got roostin' in you,' en w'iles
I wuz a lookin' out bus' de smoke--piff! en den--bang! Wid dat I
des drapt back inter de woods, en sorter skeerted 'roun' so's ter
git de tree 'twixt' me en de road. I slid up putty close, en
wadder you speck I see? Des ez sho's you er settin' dar lissenin'
dey wuz a live Yankee up dar in dat tree, en he wuz a loadin' en
a shootin' at de boys des ez cool es a cowcumber in de jew, en he
had his hoss hitch out in de bushes, kaze I year de creetur
tromplin' 'roun'. He had a spy-glass up dar, en w'iles I wuz a
watchin' un 'im, he raise 'er up en look thoo 'er, en den he lay
'er down en fix his gun fer ter shoot.
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