Page:The White Slave, or Memoirs of a Fugitive.djvu/221

 The overseer cowered beneath this energetic reproof. He covered his face with his hands, bent down his head, and passed a few moments in a silence which was only interrupted by an inarticulate sobbing. Perhaps, he was trying to prepare himself to die. But life was too sweet to be surrendered without another effort to save it. He saw that it was useless to appeal to Thomas; but rousing himself once more, he turned to me. He begged me to. remémber the confidence, he had once placed in me, and the favors, which as he said, he had shown me. He promised to purchase us both, and give us our liberty, any thing, every thing, if we would only spare his life!

His tears and piteous lamentations moved me. My head grew dizzy, and I felt such a faintness and heart-sinking, that I was obliged to support myself against a tree. Thomas stood by, with his arms folded and resting on the gun. He made no-answer to the reiterated prayers and promises of the overseer. Indeed he did not appear to notice them. His eyes were fixed, and he seemed lost in thought.

After a considerable interval, during which the unhappy overseer continued to repeat his prayers and lamentations, Thomas roused himself. He stepped back a few paces, and raised the gun. The half hour is out," he said; — "Mr Martin, are you ready?"

"No! oh no! Spare me, oh spare me! — one half hour longer — I have much —"

He did not live to finish the sentence. The gun flashed; the ball penetrated his brain, and he fell dead without a struggle.





scraped a shallow grave, in which we-placed the body of the overseer. We dragged the dead hound to the same spot, and laid him with his master. They were fit companions.

We now resumed our flight, — not as some may perhaps suppose, with the frightened and conscience-stricken haste