All these thoughts had been with him during the long night, and though he himself was quite willing to hang the negro, being fully persuaded of his guilt, he was determined to do his official duty, and to save the prisoner's life until sentence was lawfully passed on him. But how? If he could quiet the town before the day brightened, he had a plan, but to accomplish this seemed wellnigh impossible.
He handcuffed the prisoner and locked him into a cell, then advised his escort to go and get food, as before the day was done—indeed, just as soon as Mr. Morris should reach the town—he would probably need them to help him defend the jail.
They nodded among themselves, and winked, and laughed a little, and one said, “Right good play-actin'”; and watching, the sheriff knew that he could depend on only one man, his own brother, to help him. But he sent him off along with the others, and was glad to see that the crowd of townspeople went with his guard, listening eagerly to the details of the suspected tragedy and the subsequent hunt. This was his only chance, and he went at once to the negro's cell.
“Now, Abram,” he said, “if you don't want to be a dead man in an hour's time, you'd better do exactly what I tell you.”
“Yes, suh, please Gawd.”
“Put on this old hat,” handing him one, “and pull it down over your eyes, and follow me. When we get outside, you walk along with me like any ordinary nigger going to his work; and remember, if you stir hand or foot more than a walk, you are a dead man. Come on.”
There was a back way out of the jail, and to this the sheriff went. Once outside, he walked briskly, the negro keeping step with him diligently. They did not meet any one, and before very long they reached the sheriff's house, which stood on the outskirts of the town. Being a widower, he knocked peremptorily on the door, and when it was opened by his son, he marched his prisoner in without explanation.
“Shut the door, Willie,” he said, “and load the Winchester.”
“Please, suh—” interjected the negro. For answer, the sheriff took a key from the shelf, and led him out of the back door to where, down a few steps, there was another door leading into an underground cellar.
“Now, Abram,” he said, “you're to keep quiet in here till I can take you to the city jail. There is no use your trying to escape, because my two boys'll be about here all day with their repeating rifles, and they can shoot.”