“Oh! massa! massa! kill me, massa, den 'em stop sufferin'!” said the poor fellow, in a painful murmur, raising his shackled hands to his head, and grasping the heavy chain that secured his neck, in the agony of pain. “What has he done?” inquired the officer. “Resisted the guard, and ran when we told him to stop!” responded a trio of voices. “Yes, and attempted to get into a house. Ah! you vagabond you; that's the way we serve niggers like you!--Attempt to run again, will you? I'll knock your infernal daylights out, you nigger you,” said one of the party. “It does seem tome that you might have taken him, and brought him up with less severity,” said the officer. “What else could we do, sure? Didn't we catch him prowling about with a white fellow, and he runn'd till we couldn't get him. Indeed it was nothing good they were after, and it's the like o' them that bees doing all the mischief beyant the city.” “An' 'imself, too, struck Muldown two pokes, 'efore he lave de hancuffs be pat upon him, at all!” said another of the guardmen; and then turning around, caught a glimpse of poor little Tommy, who had been standing up near a desk, during the scene, nearly “frightened out of his wits.” “By the pipers,--what! and is't here ye are? The same that was with himself beyant! Come here, you spalpeen you. Wasn't ye the same what runn'd whin we bees spaken to that nigger?” said the same guardman, taking hold of Tommy's arm, and drawing him nearer the light. “Yes, he was coming along with me, to show me”-- “Stop!--you know you are going to lie already. Better lock 'em both up for the night, and let them be sent up in the morning,” said another. “Then you won't let me speak for myself--” “Hush, sir!” interrupted the officer; “you can tell your story in the morning! but take care you are not a vagrant. If it's proved that you were with that nigger at the improper hour, you'll get your back scarred. Come, you have owned it, and I must lock you up.” Without attempting to wash the blood off the negro, or dress his wounds, they unlocked the handcuffs, and loosened the chain from his neck, handling him with less feeling than they would a dumb brute. Relieved of his chains, they ordered him to get up. The poor creature looked up imploringly, as if to beg them to spare his life, for he was too weak to speak. He held up his hands, drenched with blood, while beneath his head was a pool of gore that had streamed from his mounds. “None of your infernal humbuggery-you could run fast enough. Just get up, and be spry about it, or I'll help you with the cowhide,” said the officer, calling to one of the guardmen to bring it to him. He now made an effort, and had got upon his knees, when the guardman that seemed foremost in his brutality fetched him a kick with his heavy boots in the side, that again felled him to the ground with a deep groan.