"Will you kindly inform me who the leader of this movement is?" persisted Dr. Le Grand calmly. "Big words these," said the first man who had spoken. "I guess we'd better settle this nigger." "Hold on, Sam," said the second man, pushing aside the gun the man had raised. "This is St. Stephen's preacher. He is not on the list." "I'm out here in the name of peace," said Dr. Le Grand, "willing to do anything to bring that end." "Well," said the leader, producing a notebook from his breast pocket, and scribbling something in it, "we came out to-day to wash the streets in nigger gore, and if you can induce them to go home, you and others of the leading men of your race, instead of encouraging them to bully white people, you can save many lives. Colonel Moss is the gentleman to go to. But you'll need a pass," tearing a leaf from the notebook and handing it to Dr. Le Grand; "and I doubt if that will take you through the lines. You will doubtless find the colonel somewhere in the down-town section of the city. Stand aside, men, and let him pass." Dr. Le Grand took the slip of paper and started for the section of the city indicated, but the way was so choked with men and boys, who challenged and parleyed with him in spite of the permit he carried, that progress was slow. Men whom he had met in his common every-day life in Wilmington, men who had been cordial and gentlemanly in their greetings, now either hurled bitter epithets at him, or passed him with averted eyes. Several times during that morning were guns pointed into his face as he paused here and there to stop collisions that were constantly occurring between white and black men, fatal in every instance to the blacks, who, without arms, were no match for the well-equipped whites, who took advantage of their helplessness to bully them. The most thrilling scene witnessed was that which made the minister's heart faint, although the incident excited the admiration of all who beheld it. Above the oaths of excited men and boys was heard a wild cheer a few blocks away, followed by the defiant cry of a negro boy, who came panting up the street, unmindful of the cry of "halt" that issued from many lips. Frantically waving a huge revolver in his hand, he fell upon his face within a few yards of where the minister stood, pierced by a rifle ball. Turning over slowly upon his back, he leveled his pistol and fired into the crowd of men closing in on him, shattering the arm of a Georgia bandit. "He is dying!" exclaimed the minister, with uplifted hand to prevent the men from doing further violence to the dying lad, whose life-blood was making crimson the sand where he lay. One man in the crowd stooped and picked up the pistol that had fallen from the lad's grasp. He raised it up before the crowd and said: "Let him die in peace, boys; I admire a brave heart, if it is under a black skin." The crowd dispersed. The minister got down upon his knees and raised the lad's head into his arms.