God knows Cludde had done me harm enough; but for the working of a gracious Providence he had ruined my life; but all remembrance of this fled from me as I beheld his pitiful plight and mortal terror, and heard his altered voice screaming for mercy.
"I know him; he was once a friend of mine," I cried, and God forgive me the lie. "Let him go; don't torture him any longer."
Noah laughed in my face.
"What for me let him go?" he said. "'Cos he is a white man? He is a white debbil; he shall hab his lesson."
"But it is murder. You would not murder him?"
"And he murder me! De whip cut me twenty times, and if I die, what den? Noah is only a black man: it is not murder to kill a black man! Dey kill me: I lib for teach him lesson."
"Let him go," I cried, "and I will give you money--twenty dollars."
"No!"
"Thirty--forty dollars!"
"No!"