Inside the corral, south of the graves, we constructed a latrine, and, north of the rifle pit in the centre, a couple of men were told off by father to dig a well for water.
In the mid-afternoon of that day, which was the second day, we saw Lee again.

He was on foot, crossing diagonally over the meadow to the north- west just out of rifle-shot from us.

Father hoisted one of mother's sheets on a couple of ox-goads lashed together.

This was our white flag.
But Lee took no notice of it, continuing on his way.
Laban was for trying a long shot at him, but father stopped him, saying that it was evident the whites had not made up their minds what they were going to do with us, and that a shot at Lee might hurry them into making up their minds the wrong way.
"Here, Jesse," father said to me, tearing a strip from the sheet and fastening it to an ox-goad.

"Take this and go out and try to talk to that man.