“Quick, then! I will not answer for myself. Your safety is not the only thing to be considered; I must think of myself as well. If I do not kill this man, he will murder me by inches if I fall into his hands, as he has already tried to do. I hate him, I hate him! It is my enemy I would slay, not yours.”
With a rapid movement he stooped, placed the barrel of his pistol at Thomson’s forehead and—would have pulled the trigger but for the interference of John Brown, who threw himself upon the enraged black and stayed his hand.
“Don’t do it; not this time, Judah. I know your feelings, but you’ll have another chance, for these fellows will be after us again. There’s too much at stake now; we owe Mr. Maxwell something for all he has suffered. Don’t do it.”
“Yes,” chimed in Maybee; “if you let up now, Judah, I’ll be tee-totally smashed if I don’t lend you a hand and stand by for fair play.”
“Why stay my hand? Vengeance is sweet,” replied Judah, his dark, glowing eyes fixed in a threatening gaze upon his foe bound and helpless at his feet.
“There is a time for everything, my son. Stay thy hand and fear not; vengeance is mine,” said John Brown.
Judah was silent for a moment, but stood as if gathering strength to resist temptation. Finally he said:
“I am the Lord’s instrument to kill this man. Promise me that when this villain’s life shall lie in the gift of any man in the camp, he shall be given to me as my right, to deal with him as I see fit.”
“We promise,” broke from Captain Brown and Ebenezer Maybee simultaneously.
Sternly the determined trio, aided by Winona in her boy’s attire, secured the officials of the jail and quieted the prisoners. It was hard to resist the entreaties of the slaves confined there, but, after a hurried consultation, it was deemed advisable not to burden themselves with fugitive slaves.