“But I keep on goin' on 'count of my bein' under obligations to 'tend him and jess him alone. After while it begin to git good and dark and you could see lanterns bobbin' round whar dere wuz search parties out, I reckin. And jess befo' the last of de light fade 'way I come to de place whar de Battery wuz stationed in the aidge of a little saige-patch lak, and dar I find him--him and two y'others, right whar dey fell. Dey wuz all three layin' in a row on dere backs jes' lak somebody is done fix 'em dat way. His chist wuz tore up, but scusin' de dust and dirt, dar wam't no mark of vilence on his face a t'all. “I knowed dey wam't gwine put Ole Miss's onliest dear son in no trench lak he wuz a daid hoss--naw suh, not wile I had my stren'th. I tek him up in my arms--I wuz mighty survig'rous dem times and he wam't nothin' but jes' a boy, ez I told you--so I tek him up and tote him 'bout a hundred yards 'way whar dar's a little grove of trees and de soil is sort of soft and loamy; and den and dere I dig his grave. I didn't have no reg'lar tools to dig wid, but I uses a pinted stick and one of dese yere bay-nets and fast ez I loosen de earth I cast it out wid my hands. And 'long towo'ds daylight I gits it deep nuff and big nuff. So I fetch water frum a little branch and wash off his face and I wrop him in a blanket w'ich I pick up nearby and I compose his limbs and I bury him in de ground.” His voice had swelled, taking on the long, swinging cadences by which his race voices its deeper emotions whether of joy or sorrow or religious exaltation. Its rise and fall had almost a hypnotizing effect upon the two old men who were his auditors. The tale he was telling was no new one to them. It had been written a score of times in the county papers; it had been repeated a hundred times at reunions and Memorial Day services. But they listened, canting their heads to catch every word as though it were a new-told thing and not a narrative made familiar by nearly fifty years of reiteration and elaboration. “I put green branches on top of him and I bury him. And den w'en I'd done mark de place so I wouldn't never miss it w'en I come back fur him, I jes' teks my foot in my hand and I puts out fur home. I slip through de No'thern lines and I heads for ole Lyon County. I travels light and I travels fast and in two weeks I comes to it. It ain't been but jes' a little mo'n a year since we went 'way but Gar Almighty, gen'l'men, how dat war is done change ever'thing. My ole Miss is gone--she died de very day dat Marse Willie got killed, yas suh, dat very day she taken down sick and died--and her brother, ole Majah Machen is gone too--he's 'way off down in Missippi somewhars refugeein' wid his folks--and de rest of de niggers is all scattered 'bout ever'whars. De Fed'ruls is in charge and de whole place seem lak, is plum' busted up and distracted.