"He does, does he!" said his master, springing from his seat, and abruptly leaving the apartment.
Remembering the fierce burst of passion I had seen in the negro, and fearing there was danger a-foot, I rose to follow, saying, as I did so:
"Madam, cannot you prevent this?"
"I cannot, sir; I have already done all I can. Go and try to pacify the Colonel—Jim will die before he'll be whipped." Jim was standing at the farther end of the old cabin, with his back to the wall, and the large spring knife in his hand. Some half-dozen negroes were in the centre of the room, apparently cowed by his fierce and desperate looks, and his master was within a few feet of him.
"I tell you, Cunnel," cried the negro, as I entered, "you touch me at your peril!"
"You d——d nigger, do you dare to speak so to me?" said his master, taking a step toward him.
The knife rose in the air, and the black, in a cool, sneering tone, replied: "Say your prayers 'fore you come nigher, for, so help me God, you'm a dead man!"
I laid my hand on the Colonel's arm, to draw him back, saying, as I did so: "There's danger in him! I know it. Let him go, and he shall ask your pardon."
"I shan't ax his pardon," cried the black; "leff him an' me be, sir; we'll fix dis ourselfs."
"Don't interfere, Mr. K——," said my host, with perfect coolness, but with a face pallid with rage. "Let me govern my own plantation."