"The hair of your head is not the flesh of your body. No, I will not injure the hair!"—Pomp waited for his prisoner to take in all the horrible suggestiveness of this equivocation; then resumed. "Is not that what you would have said to me if you had found me in your power after making me such a promise? The black man has no rights which the white man is bound to respect! The most solemn pledges made by one of your race to one of mine are to be heeded only so long as suits your convenience. Did you not promise your dying brother in your presence to give me my freedom? Answer,—yes or no."
"Yes," faltered Augustus.
"And did you give it me?"
"No." And Augustus felt that out of his own mouth he was condemned.
"Well, I shall keep my promise better than you kept yours. Comply with all I demand of you (this is what I said), and no part of you, neither flesh nor hair, shall be harmed."
"What do you demand of me?"
"This. Here are pen and ink. Write as I dictate."
"What?"
"An order to have the fighting on your side discontinued, and your forces withdrawn."
Augustus hesitated to take the pen.