With Axe and Rifle | Page 7

it.
Our host spoke but little during the remainder of the time we sat at
table, being employed as zealously as his overseers and clerks had been
in devouring his food. My father then again reverted to Dio, and
observed that he was anxious to make a suitable return to the black for
the brave way in which he had risked his life in preserving ours.
"He is my property and you may thank me, but I don't want thanks and
I don't want a recompense, though I should have lost well-nigh five
hundred dollars if he had been drowned."
"Will you take five hundred dollars for the boy?" asked my father
feeling sure that unless he could obtain the slave, he should have no
means of rewarding him.
"No, stranger, I guess I won't," answered Mr Bracher, putting a quid,
which he had been working into form, into his mouth; "I don't want
money, and I wouldn't take a thousand dollars for the black if I did: so
you have your answer."
My father saw that it would not do farther to press the subject. As soon
as he properly could, he begged that my mother and I might be allowed
to retire.
"This is liberty hall, and your wife can do as she likes, and so can you. I
shall turn in myself before long, as I have had a pretty smart ride."
On this my mother rose, and I had to return to my bunk, in which I was
soon fast asleep. Next morning I remember looking out of the window
just at daybreak and seeing a party of negroes mustered before being

despatched to their respective labours. Two white overseers, dressed in
broad-brimmed hats and gingham jackets, stood by with whips in their
hands, giving directions to the slaves, and at the same time bestowing
not a few lashes on their backs, if they did not at once comprehend
what was said to them. Among them I caught sight of Dio. One of the
overseers addressed him, and seemed to be putting questions to which
satisfactory answers were not given. To my horror down came the lash
on Dio's back, cut after cut being given with all the strength of the
white man's arm.
"O father, father, they are beating Dio. Do go out and stop the cruel
man," I exclaimed. My father looked on for a moment, and then hurried
out to the front of the house. I followed him, but Dio had disappeared
and the overseer was walking along whistling in the direction one party
of the blacks had taken.
"The poor fellow would only be worse treated were I to speak for him,"
said my father stopping short; "but it is terrible that human beings
should thus be tyrannised over by their fellow-creatures. It may not be
against man's laws, but it is against God's law, I am very certain. The
sooner we are away from this the better, but I should like to see poor
Dio before we go, and again thank him for the service he has rendered
us."
We went round to the stables, where we found Dio, who was grooming
the horses. My father, finding that no one else was present, put several
dollars into his hand.
"That's no return, my friend, for the brave way in which you risked
your life to save ours," he said; "but I have nothing else except my bare
thanks to give you. You must remember, however, that I wish always
to remain your friend, and if I have the power, to repay you in a more
substantial manner."
"Dis black boy no want any reward," answered Dio, offering to return
the money.
My father, however, pressed it on him, and without much difficulty

induced him to keep it. As soon as breakfast was over, the horses were
brought round. I believe that my mother made a present to Mammy
Coe of the gayest article of dress she possessed, which she guessed
would be far more welcome than money.
Our host treated us with but scant courtesy as we took our departure.
"Just tell Denis O'Dwyer, if you find him alive, that you saw me, and
that I hope to liquor up with him next time I go his way."
My father thanked him for his hospitality, but he made no reply, and
turning on his heel, re-entered his house. We found Dio, who had run
on, waiting for us out of sight of the house. He waved his hand, but said
nothing.
Eager to reach Uncle Denis's farm, my father drove on as fast as the
horses could trot over the rough track. We had to endure the same
amount of bumping and jolting as on the previous day. My poor
mother's anxiety increased