Barrett,  Colonel  Cabell's  plucky  little  courier,  rode  almost
into  the  works  with  us,  and  we  had  left  our  horses  with
him,  close  up,  but  in  a  position  which  we  thought  afforded


SPOTTSYLVANIA  261

some  protection.  In  a  few  moments  someone  shouted  to
me  that  Barrett  was  calling  lustily  for  me.  I  ran  back
where  I  had  left  him  and  was  distressed  to  see  my  good
horse,  Mickey,  stretched  on  the  ground.  Barrett  said  he
had  just  been  killed  by  a  piece  of  shell  which  struck  him  in
the  head.  The  poor  fellow's  limbs  were  still  quivering.  I
could  see  no  wound  of  any  consequence  about  the  head  or
anywhere  else;  while  I  was  examining  him  he  shuddered
violently,  sprang  up,  snorted  a  little  blood  and  was  again  "as
good  as  new."  As  soon  as  practicable,  however,  we  sent  Bar-
rett and  the  three  horses  behind  that  brick  kiln  back  on  the
hill,  or  to  some  place  near  by  of  comparative  safety.  I  was
afraid  that  Mickey,  who  seemed  to  have  "gotten  his  hand
in,"  might  keep  up  this  trick  of  getting  ''killed,"  as  Barrett
said,  once  too  often.  I  may  as  well  say  right  here  that  the
noble  horse  got  safely  through  the  war,  but  was  captured
with  his  master  at  Sailor's  Creek.
