fixed in
its side; a glass syringe holding about a third of a pint; a large
curved needle perforated in its length like a tube, sharp at one end, at
the other expanded to fit accurately the nozzle of the syringe; a
little strainer also fitting the syringe; and last, a small bundle of
wires with a handle like an egg-beater.

For the rest, this savage was crooked, ill-shapen and hideous. His skin
was as black as night; his head small, the face immensely
disproportionate to the cranium; his jaws massive and armed with
glittering white teeth filed to points; his cheeks full, his nose flat,
his eyes little, deep-set, restless, wicked. The usage he received from
his new master was so different from his former experience with white
men, and so in accord with his own undisciplined nature, that it called
forth all the sympathies of his character. He soon loved the Frenchman
with an intensity of affection almost incomprehensible. It is no
exaggeration to say that he would have willingly laid down his life to
gratify his master's slightest wish. The latter's knowledge was to him
so comprehensive, his power so boundless and his will so imperious and
inflexible, that he feared and worshiped him as a god.

Fournier looked upon his monster with satisfaction, and longed for a
battle. His wish was at last gratified. On the Fourth of July, 1864, an
engagement took place three miles north-west of Legareville, near the
North Edisto River. A force of Union soldiery had been assembled from
the Sea Islands and from Florida, massed on Seabrook Island, and pushed
thence up into South Carolina. The object of this expedition was
unknown; indeed, as nothing whatever was accomplished, the strategy of
it remains to this day unexplained. However, forewarned is forearmed.
Every movement was watched and reported by the rebel scouts; all the
troops that could be spared from Charleston were sent out to oppose the
invaders; roads were obstructed; bridges were destroyed, batteries
erected in strong positions, everything prepared to impede their
progress. Our story needs not that we should dwell upon the sufferings
of the Union soldiers on that futile expedition, from the narrow, dusty
roads, the frequent scarcity of water, the intense heat. With infinite
fatigue and peril they advanced only five or six miles in a day's
march. Many died of sunstroke, and many fell by the way utterly
exhausted. There was occasional skirmishing; but one actual battle. To
t