"Here! what's this noise about? What are yes doin' with lights this time ernight? I'll soon stop his Yankee groaning," were the words of a brutal keeper, who had just come in and was roughly elbowing his way toward the cot.
"Stand off, you hound!" shouted Bob, throwing
himself between the keeper and the dying soldier. "Stand off!" growled the prisoners, fiercely crowding upon the intruder with murder in their faces.
"Hark!" said the Zouave, leaning listfully forward, "there goes the Hall bell—one—two—three——" His features lighted up as with the glow of a conflagration; his lips opened—
"Fire! Fire! Fire!"
And the Zouave fell back upon the cot—dead.
The keeper crawled forward like a whipped hound, and eyed the outstretched form with a face full of fear:
"Exchanged at last, by G—d!"
True, O traitorous hireling! and by God alone. For when that honest, loyal soul went out, there came to take its place an Avenging Spirit, that shall not cease to call on Heaven for vengeance on the Southern murderer until the cowardly stain of fifty thousand murders, such as this, are washed out in a terrible atonement.
"Poor little Jake," murmured Mr. Bob Peters, "I wonder if he's a terrier." Then, turning to the keeper,—"How long is my imprisonment in this terrible place to be continued?"