HKB
"Is Freeman Collar here?" Peasley demanded.
"He is back in the garden," the woman answered.
"Please ask him to come here."
In a moment Collar came around the house with a hoe on his shoulder. He was a slim, sandy bearded, long-haired man of medium height, with keen gray eyes.
"Good morning, Mr. Constable," said Peasley. "This is Eliphalet Biggs of St. Louis, and here is a warrant for his arrest."
He passed a paper to the officer.
"For my arrest!" Biggs exclaimed. "What is the charge?"
"That you hired a number of men to burn the house of Samson Henry Traylor, near the village of New Salem, in Sangamon County, and, by violence, to compel him to leave said county; that, on the 29th of August, said men--the same being eight in number--attempted to carry out your design and, being captured and overpowered, all confessed their guilt and your connection with it, their sworn confessions being now in the possession of one Stephen Nuckles, a minister of this county. I do not need to remind you that it is a grave offense and likely to lead to your confinement for a term of years."
"Well, by G--," Biggs shouted, in anger. "You suckers will have some traveling to do before you arrest me."
He struck the spurs in his horse and galloped away, followed by his servant. Samson roared with laughter.
"Now, Collar, get on your horse and hurry 'em along, but don't ketch up with 'em if you can help it," said Peasley. "We've got them on the run now. They'll take to the woods an' be darn careful to keep out of sight."
When the Constable had gone, Peasley said to Samson: "We'll drop these slaves at Nate Haskell's door. He'll take care of 'em until dark and start 'em on the north road. Late in the evening I'll pick 'em up an' get 'em out o' this part o' the country."
Meanwhile Brimstead and Harry had stood for a moment in the dooryard of the former, watching the party on its way up the road. Brimstead blew out his breath and said in a low tone:
"Say, I'll tell ye, I ain't had so much excitement since Samson Traylor rode into Flea Valley. The women need a chance to wash their faces and slick up a little. Le's you and me go back to the creek and go in swimmin' an' look the farm over."
"What become of the third nigger?" Harry asked.
"She went out in the field in a sunbonnet an' went to work with a hoe and they didn't discover her," said Brimstead.
"It must have been a nigger that didn't belong to him," Harry declared.
"I guess it was one that the others picked up on the road."
They set out across the sown fields, while Brimstead, in his most divulging mood, confided many secrets to the young man. Suddenly he asked:
"Say, did you take partic'lar notice o' that yaller nigger?"
"I didn't see much of him."
"Well, I'll tell ye, he was about as handsome a feller as you'd see in a day's travel--straight as an arrow and about six feet tall and well spoken and clean faced. He told me that another master had taught him to read and write and cipher. He's read the Bible through, and many of the poems of Scott and Byron and Burns. Don't it rile ye up to think of a man like that bein' bought and sold and pounded around like a steer? It ain't decent."
"It's king work; it isn't democracy," Harry answered. "We've got to put an end to it."
"Say, who's that?" Brimstead asked, as he pointed to a pair of horsemen hurrying down the distant road.
"It's Biggs and his servant," Harry answered.
"Whew! They ain't lettin' the grass grow under their feet. They'll kill them horses."
"Biggs is a born killer. I'd like to give him one more licking."
In a moment they saw another horseman a quarter of a mile behind the others and riding fast.