k and expressionless, while his eyes were fixed on the
officer with a tense, glassy stare. His voice was cold and monotonous,
without rise or fall, halt or intonation, and seemed to be more the wail
of the spirit rising from somewhere deep within him than the voice of
the flesh.

"You heah that, boys? You heah what he says? He calls us apes; us that
God made as well as him. 'Cause we ahr black he calls us apes. We ahr no
better dan de dirt undah his feet. He tooken ouh money an' fooled us,
an' now he is laughin' 'cause he fooled us. He tooken ouh money and
lied to us. An' while he wuz a-foolin' us, us apes, dey taken mah boy,
mah baby, out an' killed him. Out in de rain. An' ah heered de trap
fall, an' de rope snap. An' _he_ heered it, an' laughed when he heered
it!"

As he spoke, the sergeant never took his eyes from the officer's face,
and moved slowly around the table, crouching a little, and creeping
stealthily as a beast of prey might move upon an animal that it was
attempting to fascinate. And the officer was being fascinated. He stood
as though transfixed, his jaw hanging and his straining glance bent on
the approaching soldier.

The body of troopers was getting restless. Their eyes, too, had taken on
a peculiar shine, and were all focused upon the white face of the
officer.

The wail of that dead, monotonous voice was to these negroes as the call
of the wild. It touched a chord in them that antedated the deluge. They
moved closer, imperceptibly, and moistened their dry lips with their
tongues. There is something mortally appalling in that simple action.
The dead voice continued: "An' dey sent me out to bury him, my own baby.
An' _he_ laughed when ah went. Ah seen 'im laugh. An' dey tooken mah boy
and put 'im in a deep black grave; an' de col', col' watah wuz on 'im
an' raoun' 'im, an' ah heerd it splash when dey put 'im thar. An' he is
thar now, in de col' black grave, an' de watah is on 'im, an' ah kin
feel de watah; an' de dirt is a-weighin' me down. Heah on my ches'. An'
dis man is a-laughin' at us an' says hit is a joke!"

The old sergeant was now within three feet of the officer. The latter
was gray as putty, and sober. It did not take the inclosing circle, the
heavy breathing, the wild, staring eyes and tight-drawn lips to tell him
his danger. He felt the Presence. The air was pregnant with it. He took
a step backward and moved his stiff lips as though to speak; but there
was no sound. The voice went