gwine nowhare, hear me?' Den he tole her to make up a hot fire while he
brung in de wash pot. He brung in de big iron pot an' set it on de
hearth an' raked de' red coals all 'roun' it, den he filled it wid
water. While it was heatin' he went to de door an' looked out. De sun
done gone down an' night was crowdin' de hills, pushin' dem out of
sight. By daylight dat white man would be comin' after Lissa.

"Cleve turned 'roun' an' looked at Lissa. She was standin' by de wash
pot lookin' down in de water, an' de firelight from de burnin'
lightwood knots showed de tears droppin' off her cheeks. Cleve went
outside. 'Bout dat time a scritch owl come an' set on de roof an'
scritched. Lissa run out to skeer it away, but Cleve caught her arm. He
say, 'Don't do dat, Lissa, leave him alone. Dat's de death bird, he
knows what he's doin'. So Lissa didn' do nothin', she let de bird keep
on scritchin'.

"When 'twuz good an' dark Cleve took a long rope an' went out, tellin'
Lissa to keep de water boilin'. When, he come back he had Marse Drew
all tied up wid de rope an gagged so he couldn' holler; he had him
th'owed over his shoulder like a sack of meal. He brung him in de cabin
an' laid him on de floor, den he tole him if he wouldn' sell Lissa dat
he wouldn' hurt him. But Marse Drew shook his head an' cussed in his
th'oat. Den Cleve took off de gag, but befo' de white man could holler
out, Cleve stuffed de spout of a funnel in his big mouf way down his
th'oat, holdin' down his tongue. He ax him one more time to save Lissa
from de block, but Marse Drew look at him wid hate in his eyes shook
his head again. Cleve didn' say nothin' else to him; he call Lissa an'
tole her to bring him a pitcher of boilin' water.

"By den Lissa seed what Cleve was gwine do. She didn' tell Cleve not to
do it nor nothin'; she jus' filled de pitcher wid hot water, den she
went over an' set down on de floor an' hol' Marse Drew's head so he
couldn' move.

"When Ole Marse seed what dey was fixin' to do to him, his eyes near
'bout busted out of his head, but when dey ax him again 'bout Lissa he
wouldn' promise nothin', so Cleve set on him to hol' him down, den
took de pitcher an' 'gun to pour dat boilin' water right in dat funnel
stickin' in Marse Drew's mouf.

"Dat man kicked an' struggled, but dat water scalded its way down his
th'oat, burnin' up his insides. Lissa brung another pitcher full an'
dey wuzn' no pity in her eyes as she watched Marse Drew fighti