The overseer looked at them and said, "he was afraid the dogs had killed the nigger." It being dark, we could not find him that night.

Early the next morning, we started off with our neighbors, Sturtivant and Flincher; and after searching about for some time, we found the body of Little John lying in the midst of a thicket of cane.

It was nearly naked, and dreadfully mangled and gashed by the teeth of the dogs.

They had evidently dragged it some yards through the thicket: blood, tatters of clothes, and even the entrails of the unfortunate man, were clinging to the stubs of the old and broken cane.

Huckstep stooped over his saddle, looked at the body, and muttered an oath.