For a moment the mother forgot her pleading and shrieked her defiance into the stern face before her.
"And who made you a judge o' life and death for my man and my sons? I bore these boys of the pains of my body. God gave them to me. They are mine, not yours!"
Brown brushed her aside.
"That's enough from you. Those men are my prisoners. Bring them on!"
He moved toward the door and the guards with drawn swords closed in on the group.
The mother leaped forward and barred the way to the door. She faced Brown with blanched face. Her breath came in short gasps. She fought desperately for control of her voice, failed to make a sound, staggered to the old man, grasped blindly his body and sank to her knees at his feet.
At last she managed to gasp:
"Just one of my boys—then—my baby boy! He's a big boy—but look at his smooth face—he ain't but fourteen years old. Hit don't seem but yistiday that he wuz just a laughin' baby in my arms! And I've always been that proud of him. He's smart. He's always been smart—and God forgive me—I've loved him better'n all the others—hit—wuzn't—right— fer—a—mother—to—love one of her—children—more—than—the—others— but I couldn't help it! If ye'll just spare him—hit's all I'll ask ye now"—her voice sank into a sob as her face touched the floor.
The dark figure above her did not move and she lifted her head with desperate courage.
"I'll be all alone here—a broken-hearted woman with two little gals and nobody to help me—or work fer me—ef you'll just spare my baby boy—"