“All of you stop now, and let the priest talk for us.”

At this the priest closed the book upon which he had kept his eyes bent since his entrance, and facing the multitude on the North Side began a plea for mercy.

The condemned faced in the, same direction, to read their fate in the countenances of those whom he was addressing.  This movement brought Curtis—­a low-statured, massively built man—­on the right of their line, and about ten or fifteen steps from my company.

The whole camp had been as still as death since Wirz’s exit.  The silence seemed to become even more profound as the priest began his appeal.  For a minute every ear was strained to catch what he said.  Then, as the nearest of the thousands comprehended what he was saying they raised a shout of “No! no!!  No!!” “Hang them! hang them!” “Don’t let them go!  Never!”

“Hang the rascals! hang the villains!”

“Hang,’em! hang ’em! hang ’em!”

This was taken up all over the prison, and tens of thousands throats yelled it in a fearful chorus.

Curtis turned from the crowd with desperation convulsing his features.  Tearing off the broad-brimmed hat which he wore, he flung it on the ground with the exclamation!

“By God, I’ll die this way first!” and, drawing his head down and folding his arms about it, he dashed forward for the center of my company, like a great stone hurled from a catapult.

“Egypt” and I saw where he was going to strike, and ran down the line to help stop him.  As he came up we rained blows on his head with our clubs, but so many of us struck at him at once that we broke each other’s clubs to pieces, and only knocked him on his knees.  He rose with an almost superhuman effort, and plunged into the mass beyond.

The excitement almost became delirium.  For an instant I feared that everything was gone to ruin.  “Egypt” and I strained every energy to restore our lines, before the break could be taken advantage of by the others.  Our boys behaved splendidly, standing firm, and in a few seconds the line was restored.

As Curtis broke through, Delaney, a brawny Irishman standing next to him, started to follow.  He took one step.  At the same instant Limber Jim’s long legs took three great strides, and placed him directly in front of Delaney.  Jim’s right hand held an enormous bowie-knife, and as he raised it above Delaney he hissed out: 

“If you dare move another step, you open you ——­ ——­ ——­, I’ll open you from one end to the other.

Delaney stopped.  This checked the others till our lines reformed.

When Wirz saw the commotion he was panic-stricken with fear that the long-dreaded assault on the Stockade had begun.  He ran down from the headquarter steps to the Captain of the battery, shrieking: 

“Fire! fire! fire!”

The Captain, not being a fool, could see that the rush was not towards the Stockade, but away from it, and he refrained from giving the order.