The third night after Uncle Tom's warning, when we had begun to hope that he had after all been misinformed, we heard a rapping at the door and then a low growl.
"That's Rufus, rapping on the door with his tail," said my Soldier. "He hears something and is warning us. Listen!"
He opened the door and the dog entered, trembling and with great tears of fear in his loyal eyes. We listened but heard nothing. My Soldier came in and shut the door.
"Lay the baby down," he said, "and take this, but keep it out of sight," handing me a pistol.
His loaded gun was resting on a bracket just above the door. Rufus stood pointing, his nose nearly touching the panel of the door. My heart seemed almost bursting from my throat and sounded in my ear like the beating of a drum. The baby smiled and dreamed aloud. While we listened tensely there came the sound of footsteps, the rolling of loose dirt and brickbats.
"Listen! They are coming around the back way and across the ruins of the old house. I hear a number of steps, but they are uncertain steps. Don't be afraid, dear; be your own plucky little self."
"I am not the least afraid," I answered, my teeth chattering and my hands trembling, "not the least, Soldier."
Rufus turned his head and looked at me as if he had heard a stranger's voice, and then, wagging his tail to reassure me, returned to a dead point. The sounds became louder and the surging wave rolled nearer.
One who has never beheld a raging sea of black faces filled with excitement and fury, wild, ignorant, brutal, some distorted with intoxication, cannot form the faintest idea of the awful sight. They threatened vengeance against my Soldier, saying that, not satisfied with fighting against their liberties, he was now trying to keep away those who would befriend them. They were led by a renegade white man who, when they reached a point where possible danger lay, retired from leadership and withdrew to a protected spot in the rear.