“Oh, my poor wife and children!” cried the poor man, softly, folding bis long thin hands across his knees and dropped his head in the anguish of despair.
“Just give up your wife and children, and every thing else, and be prepared to die,” said Harris, “for they are going to kill you. There’s been so many envious niggers telling lies on you, and the white folks is ‘allus’ ready to believe ’em; and they have been making such threats about you, and I’m satisfied they’ll kill you.”
Watta bent his head lower, and the tears fell fast.
“That you?” asked Harris of another.
“Yes, I was hid under my own house, an’ ’dey was gwo’ine to shoot me dar, an’ I tole ’em I surrendered, ’an ’dey brung me heah.”
“And Dan Pipsie! you here too?” exclaimed the inquisitive Harris.
“Yes, me and Eck Morgan was on top o’ de drill-room, along wid Sam Henry and tree or fo’ more of ’em. We went out de back way when de cannon come, an’ we jumped Marmor’s fence, an’ went up onto his shed, an’ got into a back window.”
“Was Marmor there?”
“No, nobody wasn’t ’dar; only jes de white men come ’dar an’ broke open de house, an’ de out-houses, an’ dry goods boxes; an’ we could see ’em looking to see if dar war any niggahs’ dar. Den’ dey come into de house, an’ broke eb’ry ting up, an’ carried off eb’ry ting; and den dey just broke open de do’ whar’ we war; an’ Ben Grassy, an’ George Wellman, ’dey jumped out o’ de window we got in at, an’ I don’t know war’ dey got to; but de men dey just kotched us, and fotched us heah.”