A short struggle followed, in which the gun was wrested from the planter’s hands by Nic, and the next moment Pete had joined in the fray, securing the planter’s arms, and then with Nic’s help he was dragged and thrown into the great barn. Then the door was banged to and fastened with the bar; and the prisoner began to call and threaten what he would do if his people did not let loose the dogs.
What followed would have seemed almost comic to a spectator, for the two women came hurrying up with their fingers stuck in their ears.
“Run—run to your boat!” they whispered. “We can’t hear what he says now, but we must soon, and then we shall be obliged to let out the dogs.”
“Oh, mother!” cried the girl, “the blacks will be here directly.”
“Yes, yes,” cried the elder woman, who somehow seemed to have heard that. “Run, then, run, and get away before it is too late.”
“God bless you both for what you have done for us!” cried Nic. “I pray that you may not get into more trouble on our account.”
“Oh, father won’t hurt me,” said the girl; “and he shan’t hurt mother. Serve him right for being so cruel. You never did him any harm.”
“Oh, run, run!” cried the woman, with her fingers still in her ears; and the two young men dashed off to the boat and leapt in, Nic’s next action, as Pete unfastened the slight cord, being to fling the gun as far out into the river as he could.
“Oh!” cried Pete, “what did you do that for?” as the gun fell with a splash and disappeared.
“I was not going to steal the scoundrel’s gun,” said Nic, seizing an oar.