Before I could add another word, the Judge said,—
"No, Major; these gentlemen hail from Georgia. They are strangers here, and I'd thank you to show them over the prison."
"Certainly, Colonel, most certainly. I'll do it with great pleasure."
And the little man bustled about, put on his cap, gave a few orders to his subordinates, and then led us, through another outside-door, into the prison. He was a few rods in advance with Colonel Jaquess, when Judge Ould said to me,—
"Your prisoners have belied Turner. You see he's not the hyena they've represented."
"I'm not so sure of that," I replied. "These cringing, mild-mannered men are the worst sort of tyrants, when they have the power."
"But you don't think him a tyrant?"
"I do. He's a coward and a bully, or I can't read English. It is written all over his face."
The Judge laughed boisterously, and called out to Turner,—
"I say, Major, our friend here is painting your portrait."