“Let him try, Thomson, for the honor of the farm. I believe he can do it. I’ll stand the loss if there is any.”
A murmur of approval broke from the crowd. At the Colonel’s words, Judah stepped forward and began giving his orders without a shade of servility, seeming to forget in the excitement of the moment his position as a slave. Once more he moved as a free man amidst his fellows and for the time being forgot all else. Thomson watched him with an evil smile upon his wicked face.
“Get me a saddle and bridle ready, Sam,” he called to a stable boy, “and a strong curb, too.” He walked toward the stable at the end of the range which had been given up to the horse, followed by the men of the group.
“Take car’, Jude,” cautioned Sam. “He’ll put his head out an’ bite. He tried to kick de do’ out yes’day!”
Heedless of the warning, Judah kept on, with the remark, “I think he’s feeding.”
“Take car’, thar!” yelled Sam; “He’s comin’ at yer,” as a savage snort came from within. The crowd fell back respectfully, all save Judah.
The horse rushed forwards, butting his chest against the iron bar, as he thrust his head over the top of the half-door. His ears were laid back, his eyes rolling, and his mouth open to bite, showing rows of terrible teeth. Judah did not move or tremble.
“Got grit,” observed one to the other.
“Wish I owned a gang o’ niggers jes’ like him.”
“I don’t,” replied his neighbor. “Them big, knowin’ niggers is dang’rous.”