“He leaned forward in the saddle, and I took that for a signal to go. It was a level road, and I stretched myself out for a run that would please and surprise the White-haired Master. As I ran I wondered what the people at the fire would think as they heard us thundering down the road.
“Nobody knows to this day what they thought. We were upon them before they could gather their wits about them. We were upon them before they could get out of the way. The torches glimmering through the trees blinded the eyes of the White-haired Master, so that he drew rein a little too late to stop me near the group of men standing there. One of them, the son of the man called Old Grizzly, tried to dodge out of the way, but as he dodged I swerved to one side, and so struck him fairly on the shoulder. He went down as if a tree had fallen on him. As I turned again I caught the arm of one of them in my teeth, and carried him with me, screaming like a woman. From that day to this I have been called the Man-eater; but as to eating a man—Blibbelibbel—it makes me sick to think of it!
“I was still jumping, but trying to come to a halt, when the White-haired Master drove his heels at me, and whirled me around on my hind feet as on a pivot. As I turned I saw why. The man called the Teacher had been sitting on a horse, his arms tied, and a rope around his neck, one end fastened to the limb of a tree. As we came up, some of the men had given the horse a cut with a hickory, and he had jumped away, leaving the Teacher swinging by the neck.
“With one stroke of a knife he carried, the White-haired Master cut the rope, and then he leaped nimbly from my back and lifted the man called the Teacher to his feet, cutting the rope from his arms and from his neck.
“The man called the Teacher was neither much hurt nor frightened, but he was weak. So he leaned against me as I stood panting for breath. There the White-haired Master left him and turned his attention to the men who were standing around. He called them murderers and assassins and cowards, but they made little or no reply. The Son of Old Grizzly, who was rubbing his shoulder, made some kind of excuse. He said he thought anybody had a right to hang anybody else who was trying to make the negroes rise and kill their masters.
THE WHITE-HAIRED MASTER CUT THE ROPE
“But the man called the Teacher hit the saddle he was leaning against so hard with his fist that it made me jump, and said it was a lie. He declared that he had told the negroes to be patient, that thousands of good people were praying for them, and that the time would come when they would be free.
“‘What do I care what he told the negroes?’ cried the White-haired Master, turning upon the men. ‘Don’t you know, you cowardly wretches, that I will protect whoever lives under my roof with my life? Take yourselves off, and be glad that you have escaped so lightly. I know all of you, and I’ll have an eye on you hereafter.’ So said the White-haired Master; and the men, making what excuses they could think of, slunk away to where they had left their horses tied.
“Seeing the Gray Mare, my sister, standing near, I looked around for the Son of Ben Ali, but he was nowhere to be seen. I knew he was not far off. He was waiting till the men should get out of sight. Then he came forth from the bushes, and in the dark, lifted the man called the Teacher to the back of the Gray Mare, my sister.