And, John, I did not tell them
anything except that the freshet had swept me away. They were kind to me,
and a friendly woman bound up my foot. We got to town this morning early,
and the captain lent me five dollars, John--Captain Meakin--so I
telegraphed you, and took a carriage to the station and came out.
Have--have you caught him? And, oh--but I am afraid--afraid!" And again she
broke into hysterical sobs.
She asked no explanation. The negro's guilt was so burned in on her mind,
that she was sure that all knew it as well as she.
"You need have no further fears," her husband comforted. And the judge
shook his head, and the sheriff swore again.
* * * * *
A white-haired woman in rusty black stood talking to a negro convict. It
was in a stockade prison camp in the hill country. She had been a
slave-owner once, long ago, and now for her mission-work taught on Sundays
in the stockade, trying to better the negroes penned there.
This was a new prisoner, and she was asking him of himself.
"How long are you in for?" she asked.
"Fuhrebber, ma'm; fuh des es long es I lib," the negro answered, looking
down to where he was making marks on the ground with his toes.
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