n.

From Lane they expected more. They were sore over the results. They got
six good horses, their harness and wagons, a lot of bedding, clothing
and provisions, but no jewelry except two plain silver watches.

Brown added five negroes to his party and told them he would take them
to Canada. Thus far no blood had been shed. The attacks had been made
with such quiet skill, the surprise was complete. In spite of all the
talk and bluster of frontier politicians no sane man in the State of
Missouri could conceive of the possibility of such a daring crime. The
victims were utterly unprepared for the assault. And no defense had been
attempted.

Stevens had better luck. His party had encountered David Cruise, a
man who was rash enough to resist. He was an old man, too, of quiet,
peaceable habits and exemplary character. He proved to be the man who
didn't know how to submit to personal insult.

He owned but one slave who did the cooking for his family. When Stevens
broke into his house and demanded the woman, he indignantly refused to
surrender his cook to a gang of burglars.

The ex-convict, who had served his term for an assault with intent to
kill, didn't pause to ask Cruise any questions.

His revolver clicked, a single shot rang out and the old man dropped on
the floor with a bullet through his heart.

Passing the body, Stevens looted the house. He made the largest haul of
the night. He secured four oxen, eleven mules, two horses, and a wagon
load of provisions. Incidentally he picked up a valuable mule from a
neighbor of Cruise as they passed his house on the way to join Brown.

When Stevens reported the murder and gave the inventory of the valuable
goods stolen, "Shubel Morgan" stroked his long gray beard and spoke but
one word:

"Good."

In his grim soul he knew that the blood stain left on Cruise's floor
would be worth more to his cause than all the stolen jewelry, horses and
wagons. Its appeal to the East would be the one secret force needed to
rouse the archaic instincts of his pious backers. They would deny with
indignation the accusation of murder against his men. They would invent
the excuse of self-defense. He did not need to make it. From the deeps
of their souls would come the shout of the ancient head-hunter returning
with the bloody scalp of a foe in his hand. Brown felt this. He knew it,
because he felt it in his own heart. He was a Puritan of Puritans.

With deliberate daring the caravan moved