They're murdering a woman in the street!" I shouted, loud enough to be heard in the next world.
But he did not wake, and the Colonel, too, slept on, those despairing cries in his ears, as peacefully as if his great dream of peace had been realized. Still those dreadful shrieks, mingled now with curses hot from the bottomless pit, came up through the window. No time was to be lost,—so, giving another and a desperate tug at Javins, I thrust my hand under his pillow, drew out his revolver and the door-key, and, three steps at a time, bounded down the stairways. At the outer entrance a half-drunken barkeeper was rubbing his eyes, and asking, "What's the row?"—but not another soul was stirring. Giving no heed to him, I hurried into the street. I had not gone twenty paces, however, before a gruff voice from the shadow of the building called out,—
"Halt! Who goes thar'?"
"A friend," I answered.
"Advance, friend, and give the countersign."
"I don't know it."
"Then ye carn't pass. Orders is strict."
"What is this disturbance? I heard a woman crying murder."
The stifled shrieks had died away, but low moans, and sounds like hysterical weeping, still came up from around the corner.
"Oh! nothin',—jest some nigger fellers on a time. Thet's all."
"And you stood by and saw it done!" I exclaimed, with mingled contempt and indignation.
"Sor it? How cud I holp it? I hes my orders,—ter keep my eye on thet 'ar' door; 'sides, thar' war' nigh a dozen on 'em, and these Richmond nigs, now thet the white folks is away, is more lawless nor old Bragg himself. My life 'ou'dn't ha' been wuth a hill o' beans among 'em."
By this time I had gradually drawn the sentinel to the corner of the building, and looking down the dimly lighted street whence the sounds proceeded, I saw that it was empty.
"They are gone now," I said, "and the woman may be dying. Come, go down there with me."
"Carn't, Cunnel. I 'ou'dn't do it fur all the women in Richmond."
"Was your mother a woman?"
"I reckon, and a right peart 'un,—ye mought bet yer pile on thet."
"I'll bet my pile she'd disown you, if she knew you turned your back on a woman."
He gave me a wistful, undecided look, and then, muttering something about "orders," which I did not stop to bear, followed me, as I hurried down the street.
Not three hundred yards away, in a narrow recess between two buildings, we found the woman. She lay at full length on the pavement, her neat muslin gown torn to shreds, and her simple lace bonnet crushed into a shapeless mass beside her. Her thick, dishevelled hair only half-concealed her open bosom, and from the corners of her mouth the blood was flowing freely. She was not dead,—for she still moaned pitifully,—but she seemed to be dying. Lifting her head as tenderly as I could, I said to her,—
"Are you much hurt? Can't you speak to me?"
She opened her eyes, and staring at the sentinel with a wild, crazed look, only moaned,—
"Oh! don't! Don't,—any more! Let me die! Oh! let me die!"
"Not yet. You are too young to die yet. Come, see if you can't sit up."
Something, it may have been the tone of my voice, seemed to bring her to her senses, for she again opened her eyes, and, with a sudden effort, rose nearly to her feet. In a moment, however, she staggered back, and would have fallen, had not the sentinel caught her.
"There, don't try again. Rest awhile. Take some of this,—it will give you strength"; and I emptied my brandy-flask into her mouth. "Our General" had filled it the morning we set out from his
