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 "I didn't steal nothing. 'Fore God I didn't steal nothing," moaned the girl.

"Get up," commanded Bennet, "before I brain you. A big hulk of a man like you to be beating a woman. A minister—Pah!"

As they were talking, a rather pretty-faced white woman came toward them, holding her hand high displaying a purse. "George, I found it—I found it. Just where I put it on a shelf back of the clock on the mantel. I'm so glad I found it."

The girl was crying softly now, though her flesh was trembling as it bled. She was still tied to the tree. The minister's wife took in the scene and the two strangers, then turned, without a blush or a glance at the girl to the house.

"Free that girl," Bennet commanded.

The minister had now replaced his frock and busied himself untying the thongs that bound the girl. "I meant no harm. They all do it around here. I wanted to teach her not to steal. My wife had lost her purse," he offered as if in palliation.

"Shut up!" blazed Bennet as he stepped toward the minister, his fists clenched again. "You shame the name of minister. You—you—devil."

The girl, still crying with pain, threw her discarded clothing over her shoulder, covering her wounds, when freed, started off through the woods.

"If I had my gun here I'd kill you. White men don't interfere in one another's affairs with their servants 'round here."