Come on."
There was a back way out of the jail, and to this the sheriff went. Once
outside, he walked briskly, the negro keeping step with him diligently.
They did not meet any one, and before very long they reached the sheriff's
house, which stood on the outskirts of the town. Being a widower, he
knocked peremptorily on the door, and when it was opened by his son, he
marched his prisoner in without explanation.
"Shut the door, Willie," he said, "and load the Winchester."
"Please, suh--" interjected the negro. For answer, the sheriff took a key
from the shelf, and led him out of the back door to where, down a few
steps, there was another door leading into an underground cellar.
"Now, Abram," he said, "you're to keep quiet in here till I can take you to
the city jail. There is no use your trying to escape, because my two
boys'll be about here all day with their repeating rifles, and they can
shoot."
"Yes, suh."
"And whoever unlocks this door and tells you to come out, you do it, and do
it quick."
"Yes, suh."
Locking the door, the sheriff turned to his son. "You and Charlie must
watch that door all day, Willie," he said; "but you musn't seem to watch
it; and keep your guns handy, and if that nigger tries to get away, kill
him; don't hesitate.
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