Evan submitted. His ankles were bound, the bandage over his eyes removed, and he was left to his own devices.
The leaden minutes slowly added themselves up to hours. For a long time in his rage he could not think clearly. He was all for defiance, defiance though his life paid the forfeit. But in the end he was bound to cool off and a craftier voice began to advise him.
"I owe this gang neither truth nor loyalty," he thought. "They struck me from behind. They carried me off. They trussed me up like a fowl for roasting. They're about a dozen to one against me. By fair means I haven't a ghost of a show against them. Very well, I'll use foul. If they are simple enough to let me lie myself out of their hands, I'll do it."
Late in the evening he was sent for again. He was eager now to face his jailors. As before his eyes were blindfolded, and his ankles freed. Aunt Liza took him up-stairs and retired.
The mocking voice said: "Well, Weir, I didn't want to leave you in that rat-infested room all night without giving you a chance to change your mind. Wouldn't you rather sleep between your own sheets?"
"I would," said Evan coolly. "I have changed my mind. As you say, Simeon Deaves and his son are nothing to me. I will let them alone hereafter."
"Good man," said the other. "You promise to have nothing further to do with them?"
"I promise to have nothing further to do with them."
A new voice spoke up, a voice that vibrated with anger and hate: "That's too thin! He's trying to fool us! Can't you hear the lie in his voice?"
"Wait a minute," said the other, "I'll put him under oath." Addressing Evan he said mockingly: "I don't know what your attitude towards the bible is, but I'll take a chance. Will you swear it on the bible?"