The men were somewhat taken aback by this address, and began to ride up and down in front of the house, casting doubtful glances at him and Mr Tidey.
At last they once more pulled up, and one of them exclaimed, “Come, captain, this won’t do! I ask you whether or not you have a negro boy anywhere about your premises? If you have, give him up without more words. He belongs to Silas Bracher, who is not the man to allow his property to be stolen from him.”
“I have stolen no man’s property,” answered my father, “and as to allowing strangers to come into my house, under any pretext whatever, I don’t intend to do it, so you have my answer. I’ll give you corn for your horses and food for yourselves, but over this threshold you don’t step with my good will.”
“Then you don’t deny having harboured the slave we are in search of?” exclaimed one of the men. “Come, give him up, I say, or it will be the worse for you!”
“I don’t acknowledge having afforded shelter to a black, and I don’t deny having done so. I have a perfect right to receive any strangers into my house who come to me in distress, and if they trust to me I’ll defend them with my life,” said my father.
“Your life’s not worth the snuff of a candle, then,” answered the leader of the party, one of Mr Bracher’s principal overseers.
The men, retiring to a little distance, consulted together, but seeing the muzzles of our rifles protruding from the windows, evidently considered that it would not be prudent to attempt any act of violence. After some time the overseer again rode forward. He must have felt sure that my father would not commence hostilities, or he would have kept at a distance.
“Captain, I give you warning that you are bringing down destruction on yourself and family,” he shouted; “you have either helped a runaway slave to escape, or you have still got him in hiding. It would never do for us Kentuckians to let such an act pass unpunished; we should have half the slaves in the state bolting for the borders, and claiming the protection of emancipists like yourself and others.” The speaker bestowed an epithet on my father which I need not repeat. “I ask you, once more, have you got the slave, and if you have, will you give him up?”
“I again answer that if I had the slave I would not give him up,” replied my father in a firm tone; “if you or your master attempt to injure my family or my property, I shall defend myself as I have a right to do, and should any of you be killed, your blood will be upon your own heads.”
“I call no man master, but if you mean Silas Bracher, he is not the person to change his intentions, so I shall give him your answer,” replied the overseer, who, without more ado, turned his horse’s head, and rejoined his companions, when the three rode away in the direction from whence they had come. Though pretty confident that the men had gone away, my father thought it prudent to keep a watch on their movements. Before they could have got to any great distance I hurried out to follow them. From a hill, a short distance to the south of the house a view could be obtained along the road they would probably take. A grove of trees, with some thick brushwood, enabled me to watch them without the risk of being discovered should they turn their heads.