"Harry! Harry!" called Hayward in a faint voice.
"Oh! my beauty, he does not speak your name first! But perhaps he hopes for assistance. He shall have it soon!"
"Mamie—Mamie—sister—closer to my heart. I'm cold—co——" The sound died upon his lips.
"And hark, yours is not the second name he speaks. He has a sister whom he loves. And I will have her too! She shall be in my power—oh! I will wring his heart. Oh! I cannot speak my exultant joy. My very heart is burning within me as I see before me this glorious prospect for revenge."
"You are foiled in that, villain that you are. His sister is far beyond your reach, in the bosom of her Northern home."
"But I'll find her—I'll have her in my power merely to torture him if it costs ma millions. Don't let him die. Tear open his vest—see where he is wounded, and wash it with liquor—it will prolong his life."
Some of the soldiers did as they were bid.
"There is a letter. Give it me. Ah! by the Eternal! 'tis signed, 'your loving sister, Mamie!' And here is the name of her home. Now, Alibamo, what say you? Is she not in my power? And not only she, but all his family shall suffer. I hate the tribe. You said I could not find her. I'll write to-night and tell her that her brother is wounded and wishes her presence at once. She will come, and she shall see me torture him!"
"What benefit or gratification will that afford you, Branch?" asked Alibamo.
"Why, this is a tender epistle. This Hayward loves his sister, and if she is gazing upon his pangs, it will be doubly keen to him, knowing she sees it. He will feel all her sufferings and his own. Ah! Hayward speaks again!"