The patriots had finished their coffee and taken their guns. Toby ran to them.

"Some on ye be so good as keep an eye skinned on de prisoner, while I's gittin' him a drink!"

He hastened with the gourd to a dark interior niche where a little trickling spring dripped, drop by drop, into a basin hollowed in the rocky floor. As he bore it, cool and br.i.m.m.i.n.g, to his captive-patient, Withers said,--

"I don't keer! it's a sight to make most white folks ashamed of their Christianity, to see that old n.i.g.g.e.r waiting on that rascal, 'fore his own back has done smarting!"

"If, as I believe," said Mr. Villars, "men stand approved before G.o.d, not for their pride of intellect or of birth, but for the love that is in their hearts, who can doubt but there will be higher seats in heaven for many a poor black man than for their haughty masters?"

"According to that," replied Withers, "maybe some besides the haughty masters will be a little astonished if they ever git into heaven--n.i.g.g.e.r-haters that won't set in a car, or a meeting-house, or to see a theatre-play, if there's a n.i.g.g.e.r allowed the same privilege! Now I never was any thing of an emanc.i.p.ationist; but by George! if there's anything I detest, it's this etarnal and unreasonable prejudice agin'

n.i.g.g.e.rs! How do you account for it, Mr. Villars?"

"Prejudice," said the old man, "is always a mark of narrowness and ignorance. You might almost, I think, decide the question of a man's Christianity by his answer to this: 'What is your feeling towards the negro?' The larger his heart and mind, the more compa.s.sionate and generous will be his views. But where you find most bigotry and ignorance, there you will find the negro hated most violently. I think there are men in the free states whose sins of prejudice and blind pa.s.sion against the unhappy race are greater than those of the slaveholders themselves."

"Our interest is in our property--that's nat'ral; but what possesses them to want to see the n.i.g.g.e.r's face held tight to the grindstone, and never let up?" said Withers. "Their howl now is, 'Put down the rebellion! but don't tech slavery, and don't bring in the n.i.g.g.e.r!' As if, arter dogs had been killing my sheep, you should preach to me, 'Save your sheep, neighbor, but don't agitate the dog question! You mustn't tech the dogs!' I say, if the dogs begin the trouble, they must take the consequences, even if my dog's one."

"They maintain," said Grudd, "that, no matter what slavery may have done, there is no power in the const.i.tution to destroy it."

"I am reminded of a story my daughter Virginia was reading to me not long ago,--how the great polar bear is sometimes killed. The hunter has a spear, near the pointed end of which is securely fastened a strong cross-piece. The bear, you know, is aggressive; he advances, meets the levelled shaft, seizes the cross-piece with his powerful arms, and with a growl of rage hugs the spear-head into his heart. Now, slavery is just such another great, stupid, ferocious monster. The const.i.tution is the spear of Liberty. The cross-piece, if you like, is the republican policy which has been nailed to it, and which has given the bear a hold upon it. He is hugging it into his heart. He is destroying himself."

The story was scarcely ended when Cudjo leaped into the circle, crying,--

"De sogers! de sogers!"

"Where?" said Pomp, instinctively springing to his rifle.

"In de sink! Dey fire onto we and de young lady!"

"Any one hurt?"

"No. Ma.s.sa Hapgood cotch de bullets in him's hat!" for this was the impression the negro had brought away with him. "Hull pa.s.sel sogers!

Sile Ropes,--seed him fust ob all!"

It was some moments before the patriots fully comprehended this alarming intelligence. But Pomp understood it instantly.

"Gentlemen, will you fight? Your side of the house is attacked!"

There was a moment's confusion. Then those who had not already taken their guns, sprang to them. They had brought lanterns, which were now burning. They plunged into the gallery, following Pomp. Cudjo ran for his sword, drew it from the scabbard, and ran yelling after them.

The sudden tumult died in the depths of the cavern; and all was still again before those left behind had recovered from their astonishment.

There was one whose astonishment was largely mixed with joy. A moment since he was lying like a man near the last gasp; but now he started up, singularly forgetful of his dying condition, until reminded of it by feeling the restraint of the rope and seeing Toby. Lysander sank back with a groan.

"'Pears like you's a little more chirk," said Toby.

"My head! my head!" said Lysander. "My skull is fractured. Can't you loose the rope a little? The strain on my wrists is--" ending the sentence with a faint moan.

Had Toby forgotten the strain on _his_ wrists, and the anguish of the thumbs, when this same cruel Lysander had him strung up?

"Bery sorry, 'deed, sar! But I can't unloosen de rope fur ye."

And, full of pity as he was, the old negro resolutely remained faithful to his charge. Sprowl tried complaints, coaxing, promises, but in vain.

"Well, then," said he, "I have only one request to make. Let me see my wife, and ask her forgiveness before I die."

"Dat am bery reason'ble; I'll speak to her, sar." And, without losing sight of his prisoner, Toby went to Cudjo's pantry, now Virginia's dressing-room, into which Salina had retreated, and notified her of the dying request.

Salina was in one of her most discontented moods. What had she fled to the mountain for? she angrily asked herself. After the first gush of grateful emotion on meeting her father and sister, she had begun quickly to see that she was not wanted there. Then she looked around despairingly on the dismal accommodations of the cave. She had not that sustaining affection, that n.o.bleness of purpose, which enabled her father and sister to endure so cheerfully all the hardships of their present situation. The rude, coa.r.s.e life up there, the inconveniences, the miseries, which provoked only smiles of patience from them, filled her with disgust and spleen.

But there was one sorer sight to those irritated eyes than all else they saw--her captive husband. She could not forget that he _was_ her husband; and, whether she loved or hated him, she could not bear to witness his degradation. Yet she could not keep her eyes off of him; and so she had shut herself up.

"He wishes to speak with me? To ask my forgiveness? Well! he shall have a chance!"

She went and stood over the prisoner, looking down upon him coldly, but with compressed lips.

"Well, what do you want of me?"

Sprowl made a motion for Toby to retire. Humbly the old negro obeyed, feeling that he ought not to intrude upon the interview; yet keeping his eye still on the prisoner, and his hand on the pistol.

"Sal,"--in a low voice, looking up at her, and showing his manacled hands,--"are you pleased to see me in this condition?"

"I'd rather see you dead! If I were you, I'd kill myself!"

"There's a knife on the table behind you. Give it to me, free my hands, and you won't have to repeat your advice."

She merely glanced over her shoulder at the knife, then bent her scowling looks once more on him.

"A captain in the confederate army! outwitted and taken prisoner by a boy! kept a prisoner by an old negro! This, then, is the military glory you bragged of in advance! And I was going to be so proud of being your wife! Well, I am proud!"

There was gall in her words. They made Lysander writhe.

"Bad luck will happen, you know. Once out of this sc.r.a.pe, you'll see what I'll do! Come, Sal, now be good to me."

"Good to you! I've tried that, and what did I get for it?"

"I own I've given you good cause to hate me. I'm sorry for it. The truth is, we never understood each other, Sal. You was always quick and sharp yourself; you'll confess that. You know how easy it is to irritate me; and I'm a devil when in a pa.s.sion. But all that's past. Hate me, if you will--I deserve it. But you don't want to see me eternally disgraced, I know."

She laughed disdainfully. "If you will disgrace yourself, how can I help it?"

"The other end of the cave is attacked, and it is sure to be carried. I shall soon be in the hands of my own men. If I don't succeed in doing something for myself first, it'll be impossible for me to regain the position I've lost."

"Well, do something for yourself! What hinders you?"

"This cursed rope! I wouldn't mind the handcuffs if the rope was away.

Just a touch with that knife--that's all, Sal."

"Yes! and then what would you do?"