"We shall do it, sir! We shall do it!"
"Well, sir, as I said before, if you do, and all happen to get killed, including the very last man himself, of course we of the North shall be quite heart-broken!"
Once comprehended, the mock condolence enraged the huge Texan fearfully. For a few seconds his eyes were the most wicked I ever saw. He looked ready to spring upon Colburn and tear him in pieces; but it was the last we heard of his bravado.
One of our fellow-prisoners had manifested great trepidation while we lay disabled in front of Vicksburg. He was probably no more frightened than the rest of us, but had less self-control, running to and fro on the burning barge, wringing his hands, and shrieking: "My God! my God! We shall all be killed!"
Waggery of a Captured Scribe.
Three or four days later, Colburn asked him—
"Were you ever under fire before Sunday night?"
"Never," he replied, with uneasy, questioning looks.
"Well, sir," solemnly continued the satirist, "I think, in view of that fact, that you behaved with more coolness than any man I ever saw!"
While we preserved our gravity with the utmost difficulty, the victim scrutinized his tormentor very suspiciously. But that serious, immovable face told no tales, and he finally received the compliment as serious. From that time, it was Colburn's daily delight, to remark, with ever-increasing admiration:—