“Ben,” I continued, after a pause, “the most mournful part of my tale remains to be told. It was poor, droll, innocent Shoe-Sally who had followed Joliffe to the forest that day, dodged him while he disguised himself, and crept after him, and listened to all he had said to the Apache chief. She had hurried home again and exposed his treachery, and as it happened our friends were on the spot barely in time to save our lives.”
“And Shoe-Sally?” said Ben; “what became of her?”
“We found her among the dying.
“‘My brudder, my brudder!’ was all she ever said ere death stepped in and closed the scene.”
There was moisture in my friend’s eyes as he bent down to stir the fire.
“‘Poor Sally!’ he said; ‘and were these her last words? Well, Nie, we are all of us brothers and sisters in this world.’”
Yes, my dear readers, all of us, as Ben said, black or white. Remember that.
The End.