a woman of the lower orders, ill clad and coarse of speech. A party of
soldiers, boisterous and quarrelsome from liquor, pressed me so closely
that, hopeful of avoiding trouble, I drew farther back toward the curb,
and standing thus, well away from others, enjoyed an unobstructed view
across the entire field.

The battery had hitched up preparatory to returning to their quarters
before I lost interest in the spectacle and reluctantly turned away
with the slowly dispersing crowd. Just then I became aware of the
close proximity of a well-dressed negro, apparently the favored servant
in some family of quality. The fellow was observing me with an
intentness which aroused my suspicion. That was a time and place for
exercising extreme caution, so that instinctively I turned away, moving
directly across the vacated field. Scarcely had I taken ten steps
before I saw that he was following, and as I wheeled to front him the
fellow made a painful effort to address me in English.

"Mornin', sah," he said, making a deep salutation with his entire body.
"Am you dat Englisher Massa Benteen from up de ribber?"

Leaning upon my rifle, I gazed directly at him in astonishment. How,
by all that was miraculous, did this strange black know my name and
nationality? His was a round face, filled with good humor; nothing in
it surely to mistrust, yet totally unknown to me.

"You speak correctly," I made reply, surprise evident in the tones of
my voice. "I have no reason to deny my name, which is held an honest
one here in New Orleans. How you learned it, however, remains a
mystery, for I never looked upon your face before."