“Do you think that sale was right?” said I.
“Well, now, I guess I doesn’t, sah!” was the quick reply.
“Well, then, why are you in the army that supports such doings?”
“Ah, sah, dey makes me shoulder my gun, an’ dey makes me fire, sah; but dey can’t make me shoot low, so as to hit anybody. When I fire, sah, I shoots ober, d’ye understand, sah? I fires, but nobody gits hurt wid my ball, sah!”
“Well, why is it,” continued I, “that your masters mix you up with white soldiers? Why don’t they put all you blacks into regiments by yourselves?”
“Yah! yah! sah,” said the slave, “dey knows ’nuff better dan dat. Dey knows we’d fight t’odder way, if we got togedder. Yes, sah!”
By this time we reached Aunt Susie’s cabin, where I found the poor creature sitting an a stool, weeping bitterly. On her lap lay a little boy two years old, while by her knee stood another of four years.
When I entered the cabin, she sprang to her feet in an excited manner; but when she saw myself and guard, she became calmer.
“What is the matter, Aunt Susie?” I asked.
“Oh, sah,” she replied, amidst tears and sobs, “I darsen’t tell you, sah, for it’ll break my poor old heart.”