e pike was standing beside a tree.
They raked the leaves and found him in a hole."

"An' I tried ter git under de hole, too."

"The raiders took you by force?" Lee asked.

"Yassah! Dey pulls me outen bed, make me put on my close, gimme dis here
han' spike, an' tells me I kin kill my ole marster an' missis when I
feels like it--"

"Did you try to kill them?" Lee asked seriously.

"Who? Me?"

"Yes."

"Man! I drawed dat han' spike on dem Abolishioners an' I says: 'You low
doun stinkin' po' white trash. Des try ter lay de weight er yo' han' on
my marster er missis,--an' I'll lan' yo' in de middle of er spell er
sickness'--"

"And they took you prisoner."

"Yassah."

"I see."

"Dey starts ter shoot me fust! But den dey say I wuzn't wuf de powder
an' lead hit'ud take ter kill me."

"And you escaped?"

"Na sah, not den. Dey make me go wid 'em, wher er no. But I git loose
byme bye an' crawl inter dat patch er trees doun dar by de ribber--"

"We found him there," Green nodded.

"Yassah, I mak' up my min' dat dey's have ter burn de woods an' sif de
ashes for' dey ebber see me ergin."

Stuart's boyish laughter rang without restraint.

"All right, uncle," Lee responded cordially. "You can leave that pike
with me."

"Yassah, you kin sho have it. God knows I ain't got no use fur it."

He threw the pike down and brushed his hands as if to get rid of the
contagion of its touch.

"You're safe," Lee added. "The United States Marines are in command of
Harper's Ferry now."

"Yassah. De Lawd knows I doan wanter 'sociate wid no slu-footed,
knock-kneed po' whites. I'se er ristercrat, I is. Yassah, dat's me!"

"I'm glad to help you, uncle."

"Thankee, sah."

"Hurry back to your home now and help your people in their troubles."

"Yassah, right away, sah--right away!"

The old man hurried home, bowing right and left to his white friends and
muttering curses on the heads of the Abolitionists, who had dragged him
from his bed and caused him to lose four square meals.

Lee examined the pike carefully. He measured its long stiletto-like
blade, projecting nine inches from its fastenings in the hickory handle.
He observed the skill and care with which the rivets had been set.

"An ugly piece of iron," he said at last.

"I'll bet they've thousands of them somewhere back in these hills,"
Stuart added.

"And not a negro has lifted his hand against his master?"

"Not one."

Lee ran his fingers along the edges o