The Major had by this time collected his startled wits.
With a sudden oath he jerked open the door and got out.
"What are you up to here, men? Don't touch me, sir!"—this to one who had laid a hand on his sleeve.
There was a quality in her father's voice that sent a thrill through Joan. She had never heard it before. The man removed his hand.
"We're just stringin' up a nigger for the best of reasons," he explained. "'Tain't no business of yourn, stranger."
"I'll make it my business," said Richard Darcy sternly. "You're not going to disgrace this State while I am here!"
The effect was histrionic; and yet Joan realized that her father was not blustering. He meant it.
There came a wail from beyond that made her shiver, the cry of a man in mortal terror. "I ain't never done it, 'fore Gawd I ain't never tetched that woman. Oh, Boss! O-o-oh, Boss!" It was like the cry of a damned soul to God. "Don' you let 'em git me!"
There was an agony of hope in the appeal, as of one who sees at hand unexpected deliverance.
The Major responded to it, speaking in quiet reassurance as she had sometimes heard him speak, years ago, when she had wakened out of some nightmare in the little bed beside her parents'.