gan swearing and struggling to get away. Samson
gave him a little shake and bade him be quiet. The man uttered a cry of
fear and pain and offered no more resistance. Stephen Nuckles came out
of the grove.

"The rest o' that ar party done gone up-stairs to roost," said the
minister. "I reckon my dog'll keep 'em thar. We better jest tote these
men inter the house an' have a prayin' bee. I've got a right smart good
chanct, now, to whop ol' Satan."

They moved the raiders' horses. Then the party--save Harry Needles, who
stayed in the grove to keep watch--took its captives into the cabin.

"You set here with this gun and if any o' them tries to get away you take
a crack at him," said Samson, as they were leaving, in a voice intended
for the men in the tree-tops.

The men and the four dejected raiders crowded into the cabin.

Sarah, who had heard the disturbance and wondered what it meant, met them
at the door with a look of alarm.

"These men came to do us harm," Samson said to Sarah. "They are good
fellows but they got an idea in their heads that we are bad folks. I hear
that young Mr. Biggs set them up against us. Let's give them a bite to
eat the first thing we do."

They took a look at the captives. Three of them were boys from eighteen
to twenty years of age. The other was a lanky, bearded Tennessean some
forty years old. One of the young lads had hurt his hand in the evening's
frolic. Blood was dripping from it. The four sat silent and fearful and
ashamed.

Sarah made tea and put it with meat and milk and doughnuts and bread and
butter on the table for them. Samson washed and bandaged the boy's wound.
The captives ate as if they were hungry while the minister went out to
feed his dog. When the men had finished eating Samson offered them
tobacco. The oldest man filled his pipe and lighted it with a coal. Not
one of the captives had said a word until this tall Tennessean remarked
after his pipe was going:

"Thankee, mister. You done been right good to us."

"Who told you to come here?" Samson demanded.

"'Twere a man from St. Louis. He done said you hated the South an' were
holpin' niggers to run away."

"And he offered to pay you to come here and burn this house and run
Traylor out of the county, didn't he?" Abe asked.

"He did--yes, suh--he suah did," answered the man--like a child in his
ignorance and simplicity.

"I thought so," Abe rejoined. "You tackled a big job, my friend. Did you
know that ever