“Three days after this, as I returned from the field somewhat earlier than usual, I saw Hawksley parting from my wife at the door. They seemed frightened and confused at my appearance, and I dare say they had cause.
“The next I remember is finding myself standing over his quivering and senseless body, my hands covered with blood, my wife crying for me to have mercy—not to stain my soul with murder. I had not killed because I had no weapons with me, I suppose. But I had beaten him almost to death with my naked fists.
“Well, the word soon spread that I had brutally murdered the man, and the excitement was great. Hawksley was one of those general favorites, half-fool, half-rogue, who spent his money with a lavish hand, making friends with everybody, while I, naturally reserved, had become morose and unsociable since these sickening rumors began to meet my ear. So you see it took very little to get up a hue and cry against me.
“Arch. Hawksley came and removed his brother. That night, though the doctors pronounced Chris. in no immediate danger, a mob, led by those who had once been my dearest friends—your father and Arch. Hawksley—came and took me from my bed, dragging me out-doors amid curses and threats, some even beating me with clubs and their fists as I was hauled helplessly along over the rough ground, half naked, only in my night-clothes.
“Well, you can guess the rest. The favorite punishment of western mobs, when they do not wish to quite murder, was given me. I was tarred and feathered! And for what? I have told you. You can judge whether I deserved it or not. And, mind you, your father and Archibald Hawksley were the leaders in the movement. By their orders the others acted. Do you wonder that I promised never to forgive them?
“After this, they set me free. Half mad I plunged into the swampy woods, where I lay until morning. By that time I had in a manner regained my coolness, and had decided upon my course of action. I knew that I had one true friend near me, and to his hut I hastened. This was a middle-aged negro. I had won him from his master half a dozen years before, on a Mississippi steamboat, playing cards. It was the planter’s last stake, and I could not refuse. When I gave Sam his choice, he elected to go with me. At the end of my trip I gave him his freedom, and he now lived on a piece of my land.
“He removed the tar, and tenderly nursed me through a long and severe illness, brought on by exposure and excitement. During all this he had kept my existence a secret, and all believed that I had thrown myself in the river to hide my shame. Sam also kept close watch upon my house, and when he considered me strong enough, he told me what he had learned.
“My wife took my death very easily, it seemed. Chris. Hawksley had been seen visiting her. That was enough. I swore then that I would have a deep and bitter revenge—that I would devote my entire life to that end.
“Sam was true to me, body and soul. What I said was law. He aided me in my scheme, by procuring me weapons, clothes and such articles as I needed. Then I watched my chance. It soon came.
“Sam brought me the word. Christopher Hawksley was at my house. I hastened there, cool and calm as I am now, though I had resolved that they both should die that night.