With an air of perfect indifference he arose and accompanied the murderers to the field of blood.
A volley was heard, and the committee returned, but Dan did not.
Ham Sterns was the next called. He was a large mulatto, and was sick.
“O. Gentlemen!” he pleaded, “I haven’t done anything. What do you want to kill me fo’? I a’n’t a member of the militia company, and I was just peaceable at home when some of you just come and dragged me out here; and now you’re going to kill me. I a’n’t even a ’publican leader. Please let me go!”
“Ham Sterns, I reckon yo’ know me,” hissed an evil-eyed, sallow-faced man, stepping before him, and shaking his fist in his face. “Now I’ll be quits with you on that sale affair; you and Alf Minton. I’ll learn yo’ to outbid me!”
“Come out here! come out here?” shouted the mob, and Ham Sterns was led away. The guns fired, and the committee returned, but Ham Sterns never did.
“Oh them tremendously firings!” said Sam Henry, with a shudder of horror, as he buried his face in his palms and began earnestly to pray for divine deliverance.
“Is this you, Sam,” asked a kindly voice at his ear. “Get up, Sam,” and a white man who stood behind him took hold of his arm and said, “Gentlemen, this is a boy that I know, (they were all “boys,” even if grey-headed) and he is a harmless boy. He don’t belong to the militia nohow. I’ll be responsible for him,” and he led him away.
Alfred Minton was now called for, but no response came.