“Well,” said Bill, “made up yer mind? Spit it out!”
Warren looked him in the eye without flinching; he did not answer.
Bill Thomson was what is called “foxy.” He eyed his prisoner a spell and then said in quite another tone:
“Look a-here. I ain’t goin’ back on old England. You’re my countryman, and I’m goin’ to give you a square deal. You’re what we call to home a high-tined gentleman. If you’ll give us all the points possible an’ lead the gang by the rout you’ve jes’ come, you needn’t say one word. I don’t want no man to give his pals away. Will you?”
Their eyes met. The glitter of steel crossed under the lantern’s light. Maxwell compressed his lips. Winona stared at him across the shadows of the dim old woods. “Be true,” she whispered to the secret ear of his soul. With rapture he read aright the hopeless passion in her eyes when he left her. He knew now that he loved her. With sudden boldness he answered his tormentor.
“You have no right to claim either Winona or Judah as you slave. They are as free as you or I. I will never aid and abet your barbarous system, understanding it as I do now.”
There was a cry and a general movement on the part of the crowd.
“Let him free his mind!” said Bill, waving the men back. “What do you mean by ‘barbarous system’?”
“I mean a system that makes it right to force a free man or woman into slavery. A system which makes it a crime to utter one’s honest convictions.”
“Wal, I reckon that’ll do fer now,” broke in Gideon Holmes.