in the chimney just awakened by the
noise.

She held her breath and listened. Not a sound. The silence was
unbearable. She sprang to her feet in a moment's fierce rebellion
against the crime of such an infamous attack. A roused lioness, she
leaped to the mantel to seize the shotgun.

John followed and caught her.

"The gun's gone, Ma," he cried.

"Yes, yes, I forgot," she gasped. "They took it, the damned fiends!"

"Ma, Ma, be still!" the boy pleaded. He was horror-stricken at the oath
from her lips. In all his life he had never heard her use a vulgar word.

"Yes, of course," she faltered. "I mustn't try to do anything. They
might come back and kill you--my baby boy!"

She pressed him again to her heart and held him. She strained her ears
for the first signal of the deed the darkness shrouded.

The huntsmen dragged the father and two sons but a hundred and fifty
yards from the door and halted beside the road. Brown faced the father
in the dim starlight.

"You are a Southern white man?"

"I am, sir."

"You are pro-Slavery?"

"I hate the sight and sound of a slave."

"But you believe in the institution?"

"I hate it, I tell you."

Brown paused as if his brain had received a shock. The answer had been
utterly unexpected. The man was in earnest. He meant what he said. And
he was conscious of the solemnity of the trial on which his life hung.

Brown came back to his cross examination, determined to convict him on
the grounds he had fixed beforehand.

"What do you mean when you say that you hate the institution of
Slavery?"

"Exactly what I say."

"You do not believe in owning slaves?"

"I do not."

"Did you ever own one?"

"No!"

"And you never expect to own one?"

"Never."

"Why did you rush into this Territory among the first to cross the
border?"

"I come West to get away from niggers, and bring my children up in a
white man's country."

Quick as a flash came the crucial question from lips that had never
smiled. It was the triumphant scream of an eagle poised to strike. He
had him at last.

"Then you don't believe the negro to be your brother and your equal--do
you?"

The poor white man's body suddenly stiffened and his chin rose:

"No, by God, I don't believe that!"

John Brown lifted his hand in a quick signal and Owen stepped stealthily
behind Doyle. The sharpened cutlass whistled through the air and crashed
into Doyle's skull. His helpless hands were lifted instinctively a