Caesar continued firm. Neither the threats nor the blows could extract any reply, until the lieutenant, by a very natural transition in the attack, sent his heavy boot forward in a direction that brought it in direct contact with the most sensitive part of the negro—his shin. The most obdurate heart could not have exacted further patience, and Caesar instantly gave in. The first words he spoke were—
“Golly! massa, you t’ink I got no feelin’?”
“By heavens!” shouted the lieutenant, “it is the negro himself! Scoundrel! where is your master, and who was the priest?” While speaking, he made a movement as if about to renew the attack; but Caesar cried aloud for mercy, promising to tell all that he knew.
“Who was the priest?” repeated the dragoon, drawing back his formidable leg, and holding it in threatening suspense. “Harvey, Harvey!” cried Caesar, dancing from one leg to the other, as he thought each member in turn might be assailed.
“Harvey who, you black villain?” cried the impatient lieutenant, as he executed a full measure of vengeance by letting his leg fly.
“Birch!” shrieked Caesar, falling on his knees, the tears rolling in large drops over his shining face.
“Harvey Birch!” echoed the trooper, hurling the black from him, and rushing from the room. “To arms! to arms! Fifty guineas for the life of the peddler spy—give no quarter to either. Mount, mount! to arms! to horse!”
During the uproar occasioned by the assembling of the dragoons, who all rushed tumultuously to their horses, Caesar rose from the floor, where he had been thrown by Mason, and began to examine into his injuries. Happily for himself, he had alighted on his head, and consequently sustained no material damage.
[14] By “Eastern” is meant the states of New England, which, being originally settled by Puritans, still retain many distinct shades of character.