The Little Master gave me a drink of cool water from the well in the public square, and then he had me carried to a comfortable stall in the stable behind the old tavern. I don’t know how long I stayed there, but by the time I had dropped off into a comfortable doze, dreaming that I was nibbling sassafras buds in the orchard at home, a negro came running into the stable and into my stall. He came upon me so sudden that I turned in the stall to get out of his way, and nearly mashed the breath out of him. He limped along and led me to the front of the tavern. There I saw the Little Master waiting to mount, and I went toward him gladly enough.
“I thought we were to go home, but my thoughts jumped ahead of facts. I soon saw that the speculator’s wagons and his file of negroes had come into town, and had stopped to rest on the public square, where a great crowd had gathered around them—some out of curiosity and some out of sympathy. I heard an old horse, blind in one eye, say to a companion tied near that such sights were seldom seen in these parts. The Little Master had sent for me, so that, by sitting on my back, he would be as tall as any of the men.
“He rode me into the crowd that had gathered around the negroes. The people made way for him, and I soon found myself so close to the Son of Ben Ali that he could touch my nose with his hand, although his elbows were pinioned. So that he was able to give me the sign, and I knew him and spoke to him and he to me; whereupon he knew that he had found one friend there. He had found two friends, for the Little Master stretched forth his hands, white as a flower, and touched the Son of Ben Ali on the cheek, where there was the mark of a wound, saying, ‘Poor fellow! I am sorry for you.’ And the Son of Ben Ali reached up the best he could, his arms being pinioned, and took the white hand of the Little Master in his, and pressed it to his forehead and then to his lips. After that he held his head higher, so that he looked over all that stood around him and beyond him, and smiled a little.
“But just then the man who owned him came hustling toward us, untied the rope to which the Son of Ben Ali was chained and pushed him roughly through the crowd to the sheriff’s block that stood near the court house door. This he made the Son of Ben Ali mount, so that all might see him. As he stood there, without a coat, the collar of his shirt thrown open, and the muscles of his chest swelling and falling, he seemed to be a man among men. When the white man stood on the block beside him, the crown of his hat was no higher than the Son of Ben Ali’s shoulder.
BEN ALI HAD FOUND TWO FRIENDS
“The man made a speech to the people. I don’t remember everything he said, but I could see he hated the Son of Ben Ali, and was afraid of him. He was ready to jump from the block and run. But the Son of Ben Ali paid no attention to him. He had his eyes fixed on the face of the Little Master, following every movement he made, and always smiling. The Little Master kept his eyes on the White-haired Master, and called and beckoned to him. But somehow—I couldn’t see what the trouble was—the White-haired Master appeared to be very busy. He was talking with a man who was a stranger to me, and, although he heard the Little Master, and nodded and smiled at him, he kept on talking. I went toward him without any urging, and when we got there he was talking about constitutions and other government contraptions, and seemed to be very warm over it. I was so disgusted that I snorted as often and as loud as I could, and if people had only known it, there was more horse sense in one of my snorts than there was in all the politics I have heard from that day to this.
“But all this time the speculator, or trader, or whatever you call him, was calling to the crowd to come and see the fine bargain he was going to offer. I had one ear for the trader and another for the Little Master. One said:—
“‘Come up, gentlemen, and see what a sacrifice I am going to make. Come up, and I’ll tell you why.’
“The other said: ‘Come, father, please come! You’ll be too late!’ The White-haired Master nodded and smiled. ‘Presently, son; presently.’