"'That wouldn't do--the smell they would make in decaying would be unbearable, to say nothing of the sickness they would create.'
"Cæsar was standing unsteadily, looking at us with lackluster eyes. Suddenly an idea seemed to dawn in his monstrous head--an idea as monstrous and uncouth as the head itself. His eyes lighted up.
"'I have it!' he shouted. 'By G-d, I have it! Make a pyramid of them, and pour cement over them, and let it stand forever as a monument of this day's glorious work! Hoorrah!"
"'That's a pretty good idea,' said the officer, and the others present, courtier-like--for King Cæsar already has his courtiers--applauded the idea vociferously.
"'We'll have a monument that shall last while the earth stands,' cried Cæsar. 'And, hold on, Bill,' he continued, 'you shall build it;--and--I say--we won't make a pyramid of it--it shall be a column--Cæsar's Column--by G-d. It shall reach to the skies! And if there aren't enough dead to build it of, why, we'll kill some more; we've got plenty to kill. Old Thingumbob, who used to live here--in my palace--said he would kill ten million of us to-day. But he didn't. Not much! Max's friend--that d---d long-legged fellow, from Africa--he dished him, for he told old Quincy all about it. And now I've got old Thingumbob's best girl in the corner yonder. Oh, it's jolly. But build the column, Bill--build it high and strong. I remember--hic--how they used to build houses on the Saskatchewan, when I was grubbing for potatoes there. They had a board frame the length of a wall, and three or four feet high. They would throw in stones, bowlders, pebbles, dirt, anything, and, when it was full, they would pour cement over it all; and when it hardened--hic--which it did in a few minutes, they lifted up the frame and made another course. I say, Bill, that's the way you must build Cæsar's column. And get Charley Carpenter to help you; he's an engineer. And, hold on, Bill, put a lot of dynamite--Jim has just told me they had found tons of it--put a lot of dynamite--hic--in the middle of it, and if they try to tear down my monument, it will blow them to the d---l. And, I say, Max, that long-legged, preaching son-of-thunder--that friend of yours--he must write an inscription for it. Do you hear? He's the man to do it. Something fine. By G-d, we will build a monument that will beat the pyramids of all the other Caesars. Cæsar's Column! Hoorrah!'
"And the great brute fairly jumped and danced with delight over his extraordinary conception.
"Bill hurried out. They have sixty thousand prisoners--men who had not been among the condemned--but merchants, professional men, etc. They were debating, when I came up, whether they would kill them, but I suggested that they be set to work on the construction of Cæsar's Column, and if they worked well, that their lives be spared. This was agreed to. They are now building the monument on Union Square. Thousands of wagons are at work bringing in the dead. Other wagons are hauling cement, sand, etc. Bill and his friend Carpenter are at work. They have constructed great wooden boxes, about forty feet from front to rear, about four feet high and fifty feet long. The dead are to be laid in rows--the feet of the one row of men near the center of the monument, and the feet of the next row touching the heads of the first, and so on. In the middle of the column there is to be a cavity, about five feet square, running from the top to the bottom of the monument, in which the dynamite is to be placed; while wires will lead out from it among the bodies, so arranged, with fulminating charges, that any attempt to destroy the monument or remove the bodies will inevitably result in a dreadful explosion. But we will go up after dinner and look at the work," he said, "for they are to labor night and day until it is finished. The members of the Brotherhood have entered with great spirit into the idea of such a monument, as a symbol and memorial of their own glory and triumph."
"I remember," said I, "reading somewhere that, some centuries ago, an army of white men invaded one of the Barbary states. They were defeated by the natives, and were every one slain. The Moors took their bodies and piled them up in a great monument, and there the white bones and grinning skulls remain to this day, a pyramid of skeletons; a ghastly warning to others who might think to make a like attempt at invasion of the country. Cæsar must have read of that terrible trophy of victory."
"Perhaps so," said Maximilian; "but the idea may have been original with him; for there is no telling what such a monstrous brain as his, fired by whisky and battle, might or might not produce."
At dinner poor Mr. Phillips was looking somewhat better. He had a great many questions to ask his son about the insurrection.