CHAPTER XI.
A MASSACRE.
“Slaying is the word,
It is a deed in fashion.”
Julius Cæsar.
The “dead-ring,” as has been said, was on Market street, and quite near the Post Master’s residence, which occupied the corner and stood flush with both Market and Cook streets. Captain Doc stood in the upper verandah, almost over the heads of the crowd surrounding “the ring,” and looked down upon them.
“It is about time we began the killing,” said one of the crowd, “We’ve been hunting and capturing long enough. Now who shall be killed?”
“Kill ’em all, of cose,” replied one of his fellows.
“We’d better find out what Gen. Baker says,” said a third. “We’ll go round to Dunn’s store, and see what he says. Whatever he says, I say it’ll be right.”
“If yo’ say dat, yo’ won’t kill any of us,” said Corporal Free; “fo’ Gen. Baker is too high toned a gem’man to allow a man dat has surrendered, to be killed. He’s a gem’man from one of de first families of de State.”
“You shut up your mouth,” said one of the chivalry, as he threw a handful of dirt into Free’s face.