"Come!" he said.
With bowed head the old negro walked slowly from the hut. Outside the
squad of soldiers encircled him, and he was led away.
With his back to a wall and the line of soldiers facing him, their
rifles grounded by their sides, Uncle Billy's face turned chalky, and
he trembled.
But, as the sergeant approached with a bandage for his eyes, the old
negro regained his composure.
For the last time he drew himself to his full height; imperiously he
waved the sergeant away, and his eyes met the gaze of his executioners
unflinchingly.
"Ready!" came the voice of the sergeant.
"Take aim!"
"Fire!"
Without a murmur, Uncle Billy slid gently to the ground, his body riddled
with bullets.
The sergeant hurried to his side, and placed a hand over his heart.
As he did so, the body of the old negro twitched, and he made an
effort to rise.
The sergeant caught the faint sound of his voice.
"I'se a-comin', massa; I'se a-co--" came the old voice in a low whisper;
and Uncle Billy's body fell back inert.
The sergeant straightened up, and lifted his cap from his head.
"He is dead!" he said softly.
CHAPTER VIII.
IN TROUBLE AGAIN.
All night long the four companions continued their way without adventure.
Twice they saw lights of nearby towns, and upon each occasion they bore
farther away from these signs of habitation.
The first gray dawn streaked the eastern sky before they drew rein at a
little brook, where they sat down to rest for a few moments, and to allow
their horses to quench their thirst.
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