In very abrupt words he told the cavalry that he had come to take their
place, and they were ordered to report back to their command. Happening
to catch sight of me, he asked, "What is this Rebel doing here?" One of
the men spoke up and tried to say something in my favor, but the more he
said the more the captain of the blacks would get mad. He started toward
me two or three times. He was starting, I could see by the flush of
his face, to take hold of me, anyhow. The cavalrymen tried to protest,
and said a few cuss words. The captain of the blacks looks back very
mad at the cavalry. Here was my opportunity, now or never. Uncle negro
looked on, not seeming to care for the cavalry, captain, or for me.
I took up my gun very gently and cocked it. I had the gentleman.
I had made up my mind if he advanced one step further, that he was a dead
man. When he turned to look again, it was a look of surprise. His face
was as red as a scalded beet, but in a moment was as white as a sheet.
He was afraid to turn his head to give a command. The cavalry motioned
their hands at me, as much as to say, "Run, Johnny, run." The captain of
the blacks fell upon his face, and I broke and ran like a quarter-horse.
I never saw or heard any more of the captain of the blacks or his guard
afterward.
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