Cato had a mortal horror of touching any creature that was dead, but more than once he had wished that the corpses were placed in the ground, although he had not the courage to put them there.  He showed no reluctance now to the performance of his portion of the task.

“You know how to dig, I presume?” asked the Lieutenant.

“Yis, I offin dug wid dis berry same spade.  Whar’d you want thar graves?”

“One grave will answer for the four, and this spot will do as well as any other.”

The soldier gave the proper directions, and the negro commenced his labor at once.  In an hour or two, he had hollowed out a grave, ready for the reception of the dead bodies.  He could not conceal his repugnance to touching them, although he did not refuse to do so.

“Dat ar is poor Big Mose,” said he, as they took hold of a Herculean negro, who had been brained by the keen tomahawk.  “And he knowed the Injines war a-comin’ a long time afore dey did.  Poor Mose,” he added, as the big tears trickled down his cheek, “he neber will eat any more big suppers or come de double-shuffle or de back-action-spring by moonlight.  Poor feller! he had a big heel and knowed how to handle it.”

The body was carefully lowered into the grave, and the others, one by one, were placed beside it.  It was a sight which haunted Lieutenant Canfield for many a night—­those black, upturned corpses—­awful evidences of the terrible passions of the Shawnees.  The earth was carefully deposited over them and the last sad rites performed.

The sun was now past the meridian, and the young soldier began to look momentarily for the appearance of the Huron.  An hour or two had passed, when Cato spoke: 

“Massa Canfield, ’tain’t noways likely dat ar Injine will be along afore dark. Dat’s de time dem critters likes to travel, so what’s de use ob our waitin’ here so long.  Oder Injines mought be around dese parts and wouldn’t it be a good idee to git in de woods whar dey wouldn’t be so apt to see us?”

It struck the Lieutenant that there was some sense in the advice of the negro; so he concluded to act upon it.  Moving away toward the wood, his foot struck and scattered a pile of black cinders lying near the ruins of the house.  Looking down, he saw something glitter.  What was his surprise to discover in the ashes a gold watch and chain which he had often seen upon the neck of Mary Prescott.  A portion of the chain had been melted by the intense heat, but by some singular means, the watch had been so well preserved that there was scarcely a blemish upon it.  As he picked it up, Cato exclaimed, with rolling eyes: 

“Dat is Miss Mary’s! dat is Miss Mary’s!”

“It couldn’t have been around her neck, certainly, when it was lost.”

“No, she allers laid it on de stand aside her bed, and dat’s de way it got dar.  See, dar’s de legs ob de stand.”