The driver was seated on it. I stood still to mark his visage, and to
observe the course which he proposed to take. Presently a coffin, borne
by two men, issued from the house. The driver was a negro; but his
companions were white. Their features were marked by ferocious
indifference to danger or pity. One of them, as he assisted in thrusting
the coffin into the cavity provided for it, said, "I'll be damned if I
think the poor dog was quite dead. It wasn't the _fever_ that ailed him,
but the sight of the girl and her mother on the floor. I wonder how they
all got into that room. What carried them there?"

The other surlily muttered, "Their legs, to-be-sure."

"But what should they hug together in one room for?"

"To save us trouble, to-be-sure."

"And I thank them with all my heart; but, damn it, it wasn't right to
put him in his coffin before the breath was fairly gone. I thought the
last look he gave me told me to stay a few minutes."

"Pshaw! He could not live. The sooner dead the better for him; as well
as for us. Did you mark how he eyed us when we carried away his wife and
daughter? I never cried in my life, since I was knee-high, but curse me
if I ever felt in better tune for the business than just then. Hey!"
continued he, looking up, and observing me standing a few paces distant,
and listening to their discourse; "what's wanted? Anybody dead?"

I stayed not to answer or parley, but hurried forward. My joints
trembled, and cold drops stood on my forehead. I was ashamed of my own
infirmity; and, by vigorous efforts of my reason, regained some degree