Caesar, after
first using the precaution to place himself under the cover of an angle
in the wall, for a screen against any roving bullet which might be
traversing the air, became an amused spectator of the skirmish. The
sentinel on the piazza was at the distance of but a few feet from him,
and he entered into the spirit of the chase with all the ardor of a
tried bloodhound. He noticed the approach of the black, and his
judicious position, with a smile of contempt, as he squared himself
towards the enemy, offering his unprotected breast to any dangers which
might come.
After considering the arrangement of Caesar, for a moment, with
ineffable disdain, the dragoon said, with great coolness,--
"You seem very careful of that beautiful person of yours, Mr. Blueskin."
"A bullet hurt a colored man as much as a white," muttered the black,
surlily, casting a glance of much satisfaction at his rampart.
"Suppose I make the experiment," returned the sentinel. As he spoke, he
deliberately drew a pistol from his belt, and leveled it at the black.
Caesar's teeth chattered at the appearance of the dragoon, although he
believed nothing serious was intended. At this moment the column of
Dunwoodie began to retire, and the royal cavalry commenced their charge.
"There, Mister Light-Horseman," said Caesar eagerly, who believed the
Americans were retiring in earnest; "why you rebels don't
fight--see--see how King George's men make Major Dunwoodie run! Good
gentleman, too, but he don't like to fight a rig'lar.
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