e 'roun' de slope, an' Marse Chan's comp'ny wuz de
secon', an' when we got 'roun' dyah, we wuz right in it. Hit wuz de
wust place ever dis nigger got in. An' dey said, 'Charge 'em!' an' my
king! ef ever you see bullets fly, dey did dat day. Hit wuz jes' like
hail; an' we wen' down de slope (I 'long wid de res') an' up de hill
right to'ds de cannons, an' de fire wuz so strong dyar (dey had a
whole rigiment of infintrys layin' down dyar onder de cannons) our
lines sort o' broke an' stop; de cun'l was kilt, an' I b'lieve dey wuz
jes' 'bout to bre'k all to pieces, when Marse Chan rid up an' cotch
hol' de fleg, an' hollers, 'Foller me!' and rid strainin' up de hill
'mong de cannons.

"I seen 'im when he went, de sorrel four good lengths ahead o' ev'ry
urr hoss, jes' like he use' to be in a fox-hunt, an' de whole rigiment
right arfter 'im. Yo' ain' nuvver hear thunder! Fust thing I knowed,
de roan roll' head over heels an' flung me up 'g'inst de bank, like
yo' chuck a nubbin over 'g'inst de foot o' de corn pile. An' dat's
what kep' me from bein' kilt, I 'spects. Judy she say she think 'twuz
Providence, but I think 'twuz de bank. O' c'ose, Providence put de
bank dyah, but how come Providence nuver saved Marse Chan?

"When I look 'roun' de roan wuz lyin' dyah by me, stone dead, wid a
cannon-ball gone 'mos' th'oo him, an' our men had done swep' dem on
t'urr side from de top o' de hill. 'Twan' mo'n a minit, de sorrel come
gallupin' back wid his mane flyin', an' de rein hangin' down on one
side to his knee. 'Dyar!' says I, 'fo' God! I 'spects dey done kill
Marse Chan, an' I promised to tek care on him.'

"I jumped up an' run over de bank, an' dyar, wid a whole lot o' dead
men, an' some not dead yit, onder one o' de guns, wid de fleg still in
he han', an' a bullet right th'oo he body, lay Marse Chan. I tu'n him
over an' call him, 'Marse Chan!' but 'twan' no use, he wuz done gone
home, sho' 'nuff. I pick 'im up in my arms wid de fleg still in he
han's, an' toted' im back jes' like I did dat day when he wus a baby,
an' ole marster gin 'im to me in my arms, an' sez he could trus' me,
an' tell me to tek keer on 'im long ez he lived.

"I kyar'd 'im 'way off de battle-fiel' out de way o' de balls, an' I
laid 'im down onder a big tree till I could git somebody to ketch the
sorrel for me. He wuz cotched arfter a while, an' I hed some money, so
I got some pine plank an' made a coffin dat evenin', an' wrapt Marse
Chan's body up in de fle