CHAPTER X.
TIED TO A TREE.
The sun was down and the stars were abroad and the young moon looked like a silver bear-claw in the sky when Jasper turned his steers homeward; and all the party broke out in song as down the hill they rattled. The shallows in the river sang too, and high in a tree, a bird too riotous to leave off with the coming of night, was carrolling the tired end of his spree. Suddenly all singing stopped. There was a flutter in the bushes and birds flew away and a rabbit scampered over a log. It was a loud cry of distress and all nature heeds the cry of pain. Laugh and the bird listens; shriek and it flies away.
"Whoa!" shouted Jasper. "What was that yell?"
"Someone in distress," Tom answered. "Seems to be over to the left."
They listened. The cry came again, and upon it was borne the words, distinct now in the stillness: "Fur de Lawd's sake doan kill me."
"Come on!" Jasper shouted, as he leaped out of the wagon; and everyone followed him. "Hold on thar!" the old man cried. "Don't tetch him whoever you air. Do you hear me? It's Jasper Starbuck that's a talkin' to you."
Down a slant and in an open space there was a fire of twigs, and in its light were four men, one a negro bound hand and foot, the others an oldish man and evidently his two sons.
"What's the matter here?" Jasper demanded.
"Wall," replied the oldish man, "whatever it is, it ain't no affair of yourn. Tie him across the log, boys."