r--'shame_!' An' I
'clare, ez she stood dere, seem like I ain' nuver seed 'er eyes look
ser clare 'n' burnin'-like, ner 'er face ser dazzlin' w'ite.

"'He's jes ez innercent uv any crime--ez I is,' she say. 'I knows it,
'cuz I knows 'im,' she say; 'an'--you knows it! Ef yer doan't--it's
'cuz yer doan't cyare 'nough 'bout it--ter--fine--out.'

"It's one r'al big man where seem ter be kine o' mekkin' all de res'
uv 'em do jes like he done, an' fum de ve'y time Mis' Simons 'mence
ter speak he jes stood dere a-lookin' at 'er like he cyan't move ner
holler.

"'Yer--doan't cyare 'nough 'bout it--ter--fine out!' she say; 'an' den
_dis_ yere's de kine o' thing yer do! Oh, it's de kine o' thing we's
'blige answer fer--eve'y day!' An' she stop, kine o' gaspin' like, ter
ketch 'er bref.

"Well, de ve'y same time she stop, de big man turn 'roun' awful quick
'n' look off r'al sudden at de road an' den he look at de res' where's
cursin' 'n' laffin'----"

"Ezekiel!" interrupted Miss North in a sharp whisper, catching at his
arm. Then her hand dropped, and she looked around her.

"Don't you see, Ezekiel?" she went on naturally. "We are almost there.
And--wait, Ezekiel; stay right here; don't hurry so. Wait, stay close
to me! There seems to be--some trouble."

"It's Arch'bal', Miss No'th!" he began, his voice rising excitedly.
"Dey's cotch 'im! I tole yer dey's gwine cotch 'im, Miss No'th! Look,
Miss No'th!"

Just then a big negro broke in on the scene, and suddenly Archibald
was at large again, dashing through the noisy crowd in one direction,
while the big negro ran in another. In the confusion that followed,
Miss North put her hand out for Ezekiel, to find that he was not
there, while Ezekiel, looking distractedly for Miss North, found
himself pushed on in the crowd of jostling, swearing men.

"Oh, look out!" he gasped; "yer's pushin' me! Yer--yer's steppin' on
me! _Oh, turn me loose!_"

"Get out o' yere!" a coarse voice called in his ear, "You'll get
killed, an' good riddance if you do!"

He felt them closing in over him, while he slipped to the ground--tramping
on over him, pushing, tramping on, while, a limp, wounded little heap, he
tried to raise his head, and felt it knock back again in the dust.

"Mis'--Mis' Simons--wouldn' nuver 'a' let yer--done me--dat-a-way!" he
whispered vaguely. He raised his head again, feeling confusedly for it
as he sat up, gazing stupidly around. Then he pulled himself to his
feet and