him, and he made a great pretense of hurrying forward.
"'T is the name of the place Oi 'm afther," said the soldier.
"Suh?" exclaimed Plato.
"Who lives in the house ferninst us?"
"Ole Miss an' Miss Floe," replied Plato.
"Ah, to the divvle wit' ye!" exclaimed the soldier impatiently. "'T is the name Oi 'm axin' ye."
"Dis de Kilpatrick place, suh."
"Where 's the wounded Johnny?"
"Who? Marse Jack?" inquired Plato cautiously. "What make you ax dat? Marse Jack ain't never hurted you, is he?"
"Is he killt intirely?" the soldier persisted, misled by the serious aspect of the negro's countenance.
"How you know he been hurted?" Plato asked.
"Oi seen 'im whin the ball pasted 'im," replied the soldier, with a careless toss of his head. "Where 've ye tuck 'im?"
"What you gwine do wid 'im when you fin' 'im? You ain't gwine ter take 'im ter prison ner nothin' er dat kin', is you? "
"Listen at the gab av 'im!" exclaimed
