“No, suh, I ent tech um; I des look at um.”
“I'd like to gouge your eyes out!” cried one of the men, and struck him.
“None o' that!” ordered the sheriff. “And you keep your mouth shut, Abram; you'll have time to talk on your trial.”
“Blast a trial!” growled the crowd.
“The rope's round his neck now,” suggested one, “and I see good trees at every step.”
“Please, suh, gentlemen,” pleaded the shaking negro, “I ent done nuttin'.”
“Shut your mouth!” ordered the sheriff again, “and ride faster. Day'll soon break.”
“You're 'fraid Mr. Morris'll ketch us 'fore we reach the jail,” laughed one of the guard. And the sheriff did not answer.
The eastern sky was gray when the party rode into Pineville, a small, straggling country town, and clattered through its one street to the jail. To the negro, at least, it was a welcome moment, for, with his feet tied under the horse, his hands tied behind his back, and a rope with a slip-knot round his neck, he had not found the ride a pleasant one. A misstep of his horse would surely have precipitated his hanging, and he knew well that such an accident would have given much satisfaction to his captors. So he uttered a fervent “Teng Gawd!” as he was hustled into the jail gate and heard it close behind him.
Early as it was, most of the town was up and excited. Betting had been high as to whether the sheriff would get the prisoner safe into the jail, and even the winners seemed disappointed that he had accomplished this feat, although they praised his skilful management. But the sheriff knew that if the lady's body was found, that if Mr. Morris could find any proof against the negro, that if Mr. Morris even expressed a wish that the negro should hang, the whole town would side with him instantly; and the sheriff knew, further, that in such an emergency he would be the negro's only defender, and that the jail could easily be carried by the mob.