“Major Dunwoodie,” returned the other, still with inveterate gravity, “you have acted nobly; your duty has been arduous and severe, but it has been faithfully and honorably discharged; ours must not be less so.”
During the examination, the most intense interest prevailed among the hearers. With that kind of feeling which could not separate the principle from the cause, most of the auditors thought that if Dunwoodie failed to move the hearts of Henry’s judges, no other possessed the power. Caesar thrust his misshapen form forward and his features, so expressive of the concern he felt, and so different from the vacant curiosity pictured in the countenance of the other blacks, caught the attention of the silent judge. For the first time he spoke:—
“Let that black be brought forward.”
It was too late to retreat, and Caesar found himself confronted with a row of rebel officers, before he knew what was uppermost in his thoughts. The others yielded the examination to the one who suggested it, and using all due deliberation, he proceeded accordingly.
“You know the prisoner?”
“I t’ink he ought,” returned the black, in a manner as sententious as that of his examiner.
“Did he give you the wig when he threw it aside?”
“I don’t want ’em,” grumbled Caesar; “got a berry good hair heself.”
“Were you employed in carrying any letters or messages of any kind while
Captain Wharton was in your master’s house?”
“I do what a tell me,” returned the black.