“The beasts are getting jaded, brother,” he said, “and as we have made so good a march already, is it not time to camp. To my eye you may go far, before a better place than this is found to pass the night in.”
“Tis well you like it. Your tarry here ar’ likely to be long. My sons, draw nigh and listen. Abiram White,” he added, lifting his cap, and speaking with a solemnity and steadiness, that rendered even his dull mien imposing, “you have slain my first-born, and according to the laws of God and man must you die!”
The kidnapper started at this terrible and sudden sentence, with the terror that one would exhibit who unexpectedly found himself in the grasp of a monster, from whose power there was no retreat. Although filled with the most serious forebodings of what might be his lot, his courage had not been equal to look his danger in the face, and with the deceitful consolation, with which timid tempers are apt to conceal their desperate condition from themselves, he had rather courted a treacherous relief in his cunning, than prepared himself for the worst.
“Die!” he repeated, in a voice that scarcely issued from his chest; “a man is surely safe among his kinsmen!”
“So thought my boy,” returned the squatter, motioning for the team, that contained his wife and the girls, to proceed, as he very coolly examined the priming of his piece. “By the rifle did you destroy my son; it is fit and just that you meet your end by the same weapon.”
Abiram stared about him with a gaze that bespoke an unsettled reason. He even laughed, as if he would not only persuade himself but others that what he heard was some pleasantry, intended to try his nerves. But nowhere did his frightful merriment meet with an answering echo. All around was solemn and still. The visages of his nephews were excited, but cold towards him, and that of his former confederate frightfully determined. This very steadiness of mien was a thousand times more alarming and hopeless than any violence could have proved. The latter might possibly have touched his spirit and awakened resistance, but the former threw him entirely on the feeble resources of himself.
“Brother,” he said, in a hurried, unnatural whisper, “did I hear you?”
“My words are plain, Abiram White: thou hast done murder, and for the same must thou die!”
“Esther! sister, sister, will you leave me! Oh sister! do you hear my call?”
“I hear one speak from the grave!” returned the husky tones of Esther, as the wagon passed the spot where the criminal stood. “It is the voice of my firstborn, calling aloud for justice! God have mercy, God have mercy, on your soul!”