“Ach, you plack pup, vere did you get dem goot glozes already? Come away from the ladies already oncest. Py tam, I vants dem zoots, too!”
So he drew the reluctant darky aside, and in a few moments old Joe came back a soldier, lugubrious enough in his baggy trousers and short-armed coat. By that time the men, failing to open the chest of communion vessels, had borne it off in triumph on their shoulders.
“Mr. Shand, oh, sir, can you tell me where General Sherman is?” Helen asked.
“I saw him a moment ago, Miss Brooks, just around the corner,” the outraged pastor declared.
They fled on, and as they turned the corner they suddenly heard loud cries, and saw a group of men in front of them. A negro lay dead in the center, and General Sherman was asking of the mob:
“Men, who did this?”
“He slacked us,” one of the soldiers replied.
“Well, men, it is bad. Don’t let it occur again.”
By this time Helen reached them and stood near to the General.
“Are you General Sherman?” she asked.