"I have to say that I shall not comply with your demands."
"Very well," said Tom, "it's best to be explicit."
He drew his horse a little back, and said to a man who was holding a slave-whip behind,—
"Give it to him!"
The blows descended. He uttered no sound. The mob, meanwhile, tauntingly insulted him.
"How do you like it? What do you think of it? Preach us a sermon, now, can't you? Come, where's your text?"
"He is getting stars and stripes, now!" said one.
"I reckon he'll see stars!" said another.
"Stop," said Tom Gordon. "Well, my friend," he said, "you see we are in earnest, and we shall carry this through to the bitter end, you may rely on it. You won't get any sympathy; you won't get any support. There an't a minister in the state that will stand by you. They all have sense enough to let our affairs alone. They'd any of them hold a candle here, as the good elder did when they thrashed Dresser, down at Nashville. Come, now, will you cave in?"