{"id":"01KG8AK9M92DP3VY0FDHYFBQVX","cid":"bafkreidddow6ghm4wvwrxbkxuridkzuivz2ubmewqvya4nyhb2eic2yzzi","type":"chunk","properties":{"end_line":4138,"extracted_at":"2026-01-30T20:47:58.829Z","extracted_by":"structure-extraction-lambda","label":"Chunk 1","source_file":"01KG89J1G8S4TRWXNCBRKCRKS8","start_line":4035,"text":"The Surgeon (sashed in sacred green)\r\n  Was glad ’twas not for _him_ to say\r\nWhat next should be; if a trooper bleeds,\r\nWhy he will do his best, as wont,\r\n  And his partner in black will aid and pray;\r\n    But judgment bides with him who leads,\r\n    And Mosby many a problem breeds.\r\n\r\nThe Surgeon was the kindliest man\r\n  That ever a callous trace professed;\r\nHe felt for him, that Leader young,\r\nAnd offered medicine from his flask:\r\n  The Colonel took it with marvelous zest.\r\n    For such fine medicine good and strong,\r\n    Oft Mosby and his foresters long.\r\n\r\nA charm of proof. “Ho, Major, come--\r\n  Pounce on yon men! Take half your troop,\r\nThrough the thickets wind--pray speedy be--\r\nAnd gain their read. And, Captain Morn,\r\n  Picket these roads--all travelers stop;\r\n    The rest to the edge of this crest with me,\r\n    That Mosby and his scouts may see.”\r\n\r\nCommanded and done. Ere the sun stood steep,\r\n  Back came the Blues, with a troop of Grays,\r\nTen riding double--luckless ten!--\r\nFive horses gone, and looped hats lost,\r\n  And love-locks dancing in a maze--\r\n    Certes, but sophomores from the glen\r\n    Of Mosby--not his veteran men.\r\n\r\n“Colonel,” said the Major, touching his cap,\r\n  “We’ve had our ride, and here they are”\r\n“Well done! how many found you there”\r\n“As many as I bring you here”\r\n  “And no one hurt?” “There’ll be no scar--\r\n    One fool was battered.” “Find their lair”\r\n    “Why, Mosby’s brood camp every where.”\r\n\r\nHe sighed, and slid down from his horse,\r\n  And limping went to a spring-head nigh.\r\n“Why, bless me, Major, not hurt, I hope”\r\n“Battered my knee against a bar\r\n  When the rush was made; all right by-and-by.--\r\n    Halloa! they gave you too much rope--\r\n    Go back to Mosby, eh? elope?”\r\n\r\nJust by the low-hanging skirt of wood\r\n  The guard, remiss, had given a chance\r\nFor a sudden sally into the cover--\r\nBut foiled the intent, nor fired a shot,\r\n  Though the issue was a deadly trance;\r\n    For, hurled ’gainst an oak that humped low over,\r\n    Mosby’s man fell, pale as a lover.\r\n\r\nThey pulled some grass his head to ease\r\n  (Lined with blue shreds a ground-nest stirred).\r\nThe Surgeon came--“Here’s a to-do”\r\n“Ah!” cried the Major, darting a glance,\r\n  “This fellow’s the one that fired and spurred\r\n    Down hill, but met reserves below--\r\n    My boys, not Mosby’s--so we go!”\r\n\r\nThe Surgeon--bluff, red, goodly man--\r\n  Kneeled by the hurt one; like a bee\r\nHe toiled. The pale young Chaplain too--\r\n(Who went to the wars for cure of souls,\r\n  And his own student-ailments)--he\r\n    Bent over likewise; spite the two,\r\n    Mosby’s poor man more pallid grew.\r\n\r\nMeanwhile the mounted captives near\r\n  Jested; and yet they anxious showed;\r\nVirginians; some of family-pride,\r\nAnd young, and full of fire, and fine\r\n  In open feature and cheek that glowed;\r\n    And here thralled vagabonds now they ride--\r\n    But list! one speaks for Mosby’s side.\r\n\r\n“Why, three to one--your horses strong--\r\n  Revolvers, rifles, and a surprise--\r\nSurrender we account no shame!\r\nWe live, are gay, and life is hope;\r\n  We’ll fight again when fight is wise.\r\n    There are plenty more from where we came;\r\n    But go find Mosby--start the game!”\r\n\r\nYet one there was who looked but glum;\r\n  In middle-age, a father he,\r\nAnd this his first experience too:\r\n“They shot at my heart when my hands were up--\r\n  This fighting’s crazy work, I see”\r\n    But noon is high; what next do?\r\n    The woods are mute, and Mosby is the foe.\r\n\r\n“Save what we’ve got,” the Major said;\r\n  “Bad plan to make a scout too long;\r\nThe tide may turn, and drag them back,\r\nAnd more beside. These rides I’ve been,\r\n  And every time a mine was sprung.\r\n    To rescue, mind, they won’t be slack--\r\n    Look out for Mosby’s rifle-crack.”\r\n\r","title":"Chunk 1"},"relationships":[{"peer":"01KG8AJS1Y7RDPMD6BYTFM3M6Z","peer_type":"segment","predicate":"in"},{"peer":"01KG89J1G8S4TRWXNCBRKCRKS8","peer_type":"file","predicate":"extractedFrom"},{"peer":"01KG89HMDZKNY753EZE1CJ8HZW","peer_type":"collection","predicate":"collection"},{"peer":"01KG8AK9M9N9Z6KNSZZRH6PCAE","peer_type":"chunk","predicate":"next"}],"ver":2,"created_at":"2026-01-30T20:47:59.625Z","ts":"2026-01-30T20:48:01.862Z","edited_by":{"method":"manual","user_id":"01KFF0H3YRP9ZSM033AM0QJ47H"}}