th twenty horses or thirty yokes of oxen, or two good farms
around yer, an' these kidnappers made money like smoke, bought the
lawyers, went into polytics, an' got sech a high hand that they tried a
murderin' of the nigger traders from Georgey an' down thar, comin' yer
full of gold to buy free people. That give 'em a back-set, an' they hung
some of Patty's band--some at Georgetown, some at Cambridge."

"If my baby's made white in heaven, I'm afraid I won't know him," the
woman said, nodding, and wandering in her mind.

"At last the Delawareans marched on Johnson's Cross-roads an' cleaned
his Pangymonum thar out, an' guarded him, and sixteen pore niggers in
chains he'd kidnapped, to Georgetown jail. Young John M. Clayton was
paid by the Phildelfy Quakers to git him convicted. Johnson was strong
in the county--we're in it now, Sussex--an' if Clayton hadn't skeered
the jury almost to death, it would have disagreed. He held 'em over
bilin' hell, an' dipped 'em thar till the court-room was like a
Methodis' revival meetin', with half that jury cryin' 'Save me, save me,
Lord!' while some of 'em had Joe Johnson's money in their pockets. Joe
was licked at the post, banished from the state, an' so skeered that he
laid low awhile, goin' off somewhar--to Missoury, or Floridey, or
Allybamy. But Patty Cannon never flinched; she trained the young boys
around yer to be her sleuth-hounds an' go stealin' for her; an', till
she dies, it's safer to be a chicken than a free nigger. They stole you,
pore creatur' from Phildelfy, an' they steal 'em in Jersey and away into
North Carliney; fur Joe Johnson's a smart feller fur enterprise, and
Patty Cannon's deep as death an' the grave."

Phoebus looked at the woman sitting in the scow, and he saw that she
was fast asleep; his tale having no power to startle her senses, now
worn-out by every infliction.

"I must git that ball an' chain off," the sailor said; "but iron, in
these ole sandy parts, is scarce as gold."

He lifted her out of the scow and laid her in the shade, and began to
explore the old house. To his joy, he found the iron crane still hanging
in the chimney, and signs of recent fire.

"These yer ole cranes was valleyble once," Jimmy said, "an' in the wills
they left 'em to their children like farms, an' lawsuits was had over
the bilin' pots an' the biggest kittles. It broke a woman's heart to git
a little kittle left her, an' the big-kittled gal was jest pestered with
beaux. But