THE IMMORTAL SIX HUNDRED
forget. When I reached Hallowell I halted and said, "You yellow-faced scoundrel, we are going back home now, and I hope and pray to God that it may be my fortune to get my hands on you, that the world may be rid of such a brute." His face turned livid with rage. He shouted out to one of the nigger guards to shoot that man, meaning me; but the guard pointed his gun direct at Capt. Bruce Gibson, and would have killed him but for the order of one of the negro sergeants to put down his gun. By this time the line had passed Hallowell, and Captain Gibson was saved. I never in all my life was so unstrung; my foolish temper had almost cost an innocent life—the life of my dearest friend. After this incident my temper was kept under control. This was the only conversation I ever had with Hallowell. When he came into our prison pen I got out of his way. I hated the man with an insane hate for his treatment of Lieutenant Peake. After we learned that we
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