“Who is that?” asked the lofty General.
“It is Friend Robbins,” answered the boy, looking frankly into the officer’s face.
“What are you doing here?”
“I have not been doing anything; the men came in there, and brought me out.”
“Do you belong to the militia company?”
“I do, sir.”
“Well, we killed one —— nigger down there to-night, and I want you to go down there and see him, and see if you know him. Two of you men take him down there.”
This was done; and there upon the ground lay the dead man, his eyes wide open and staring away through the clear, white moonlight, away from the blood-stained earth towards that infinite One, before whose face the escaped soul stood, corroborating the testimony of his blood which “cried from the ground.”
“Who is that?” asked one of the guards.
“That’s John Carr,” replied the boy.