And with these words, Widow Molly heard Judy’s cries from the cellar imploring mercy from the outlaw who was hustling her about and demanding where the silver was.
“Oh, please, sah, lem me go. Don’t. Oh! oh! don’t.”
“No, sah; no, sah; true es I lib, missus ain’t got no silber.”
“Oh, dear, hab marcy, please, sah; do hab marcy. Oh, oh!— — —you break my poor ol’ arm.”
“Fall on yer knees. Stop your beggin’ for mercy.”
“Yes, sah; yes, sah. Hab a little marcy. Oh!— — —.”
“Clasp yer hands above yer head. Keep ’em up there.”
“Oh, sah, oh!— — —”
“Stop yer beggin’. Another whimper and I’ll pull. Now, you tell quick, where the silver is, or I’ll blow your old black head into mince-meat.”
Judy, shaking with fear, told him.