Morris?"
"I dun'no', suh."
"Why did you run away?"
"'Kase I 'fraid Mr. Morris."
"What were you 'fraid of?"
"'Kase Mis' Morris gone."
They were riding rapidly now, and the talk was jolted out.
"Where'?"
"I dun'no', suh, but I ent tech um."
"You're a damned liar."
"No, suh, I ent tech um; I des look at um."
"I'd like to gouge your eyes out!" cried one of the men, and struck him.
"None o' that!" ordered the sheriff. "And you keep your mouth shut, Abram;
you'll have time to talk on your trial."
"Blast a trial!" growled the crowd.
"The rope's round his neck now," suggested one, "and I see good trees at
every step."
"Please, suh, gentlemen," pleaded the shaking negro, "I ent done nuttin'."
"Shut your mouth!" ordered the sheriff again, "and ride faster. Day'll soon
break."
"You're 'fraid Mr. Morris'll ketch us 'fore we reach the jail," laughed one
of the guard. And the sheriff did not answer.
The eastern sky was gray when the party rode into Pineville, a small,
straggling country town, and clattered through its one street to the jail.
To the negro, at least, it was a welcome moment, for, with his feet tied
under the horse, his hands tied behind his back, and a rope with a
slip-knot round his neck, he had not found the ride a pleasant one.
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