I
bore these boys of the pains of my body. God gave them to me. They are
mine, not yours!"

Brown brushed her aside.

"That's enough from you. Those men are my prisoners. Bring them on!"

He moved toward the door and the guards with drawn swords closed in on
the group.

The mother leaped forward and barred the way to the door. She faced
Brown with blanched face. Her breath came in short gasps. She fought
desperately for control of her voice, failed to make a sound, staggered
to the old man, grasped blindly his body and sank to her knees at his
feet.

At last she managed to gasp:

"Just one of my boys--then--my baby boy! He's a big boy--but look at his
smooth face--he ain't but fourteen years old. Hit don't seem but
yistiday that he wuz just a laughin' baby in my arms! And I've always
been that proud of him. He's smart. He's always been smart--and God
forgive me--I've loved him better'n all the others--hit--wuzn't--right--
fer--a--mother--to--love one of her--children--more--than--the--others--
but I couldn't help it! If ye'll just spare him--hit's all I'll ask ye
now"--her voice sank into a sob as her face touched the floor.

The dark figure above her did not move and she lifted her head with
desperate courage.

"I'll be all alone here--a broken-hearted woman with two little gals and
nobody to help me--or work fer me--ef you'll just spare my baby boy--"

She sprang to her feet and threw her arms around the youngest boy's
neck.

"Oh, my baby, my baby, I can't let ye go--I can't--I can't!"

She lifted her tear-streaming eyes to the dark face again.

"Please, please, for the love of
God--you--say--you--believe--in--God--leave me this one!"

Brown moved his head in a moment's uncertainty. He turned to Owen.

"Leave him and come on with the others."

With a desperate cry, the mother closed her eyes and clung to the boy.

She dared not lift them in prayer for the others as they passed out into
the night.

The armed men had seized her husband and her two older sons, William and
Drury, and hustled them through the door. The mother drew the boy back
on the trundle bed and held him in her arms. The little girls crouched
close and began to sob.

"Hush--don't make a noise. They won't hurt you. I want to hear what they
do--maybe--"

The mother stopped short, fascinated by the horror of the tragedy she
knew would take place outside her door. The darkness gave no token of
its progress. A cricket was chirping