'But I can't, Dinah. Your master refuses my note, and I haven't the
money now.'

'Oh! oh! He'll kill har; he say he will. She woan't gib in ter him, an'
he'll kill har, _shore_. Oh! oh!' cried the woman, wringing her hands,
and bursting into tears.

'Is it 'Spasia?' asked Joe.

'Yas, massa Joe; it'm 'Spasia. Massa hab sole yaller Tom 'way from har,
an' he swar he'll kill har 'case she woan't gib in ter him. Oh! oh!'

'Where is your master?'

'He'm 'way wid har an' Black Cale. I reckon dey'm down ter de branch. I
reckon dey'm whippin' on har _now_!'

'Come, Frank,' cried Joe, starting off at a rapid pace; 'let's see that
performance.'

'Hold on, Joe; wait for us. You'll get into trouble!' shouted his
father, hurrying after him. The rest of us caught up with them in a few
moments, and then all walked rapidly on in the direction of the small
run which borders the two plantations.

Before we had gone far, we heard loud screams, mingled with oaths and
the heavy blows of a whip. Quickening our pace, we soon reached the bank
of the little stream, which there was lined with thick underbrush. We
could see no one, and the sounds had subsided. In a moment, however, a
rough voice called out from behind the bushes:

'Have you had enough? Will you give up?'

'Oh! no, good massa; I can't do dat!' was the half-sobbing, half-moaning
reply.

'Give it to her again, Cale!' cried the first voice; and again the whip
descended, and again the piercing cries: 'O Lord!' 'Oh, pray doan't!' 'O
Lord, hab mercy!' 'Oh! good massa, hab mercy!' mingled with the falling
blows.

'This way!' shouted Joe, pressing through the bushes, and bounding down
the bank toward the actors in this nineteenth-century tournament,
wherein an armed knight and a doughty squire were set against a weak,
defenceless woman.

Leaning against a pine at a few feet from the edge of the run, was a
tall, bony man of about fifty. His hair was coarse and black, and his
skin the color of tobacco-juice. He wore the ordinary homespun of the
district; and long, deep lines about his mouth and under his eyes told
the story of a dissipated life. His entire appearance was anything but
prepossessing.

At the distance of three or four rods, and bound to the charred trunk of
an old tree, was a woman, several shades lighter than the man. Her feet
were secured by stout cords, and her arms were clasped around the
blackened stump, and tied in that position. Her back was bare to