Here his ovation, which was much more grave and earnest than anything I had ever heard fall from his lips before, was brought to a close by a loud outcry, proceeding from a spot immediately in front of us. Cries for help, loud exclamations, and blows, seemed to be going on. "Don't you do dat, Jack. Oh, you mean to murder me. Help! help! murder! I tell you notin' but de truth. Jim, I did not tink dat of you. Help! help! murder! What you knock my head so for?" I thought I recognized the voice of my good friend, Zed; and ran forward as fast as possible; but before, in the turnings of the wood, I could reach the scene, I heard another voice, which also seemed familiar, exclaiming in a loud, imperative tone-- "Let him alone! Fools, would you make an outbreak before the time? If you strike him again, I will dash your brains out. The man only says what he thinks true." As the last words were uttered, I came out upon that little track of open ground which I have before spoken of as close to the Hunter Wood. A small edge of the moon was peeping up above the trees; and some half dozen yards before me was a negro on the ground--no other than my friend Zed--with a second just raising a thick stick over his head. Close by was a tall, powerful man, whom I afterwards found to be Nat Turner, in the act of throwing furiously back, from the scene of conflict, a fourth gentleman of the same hue, who had apparently been bent upon the demolition of poor Zed. I sprang forward at once upon the man who was belabouring my good servant, took the descending blow upon my left arm--which I do believe it very nearly broke--and knocked him down at once. Zed sprang upon his feet and seized the fellow by the throat as he lay, while Mr. Wheatley stood by, laughing and exclaiming-- "Bravo, Sir Richard! a very pretty exhibition of the manly art, as you call it in England. You will know the hardness of a negro's head for the future; for you will find your knuckles all out, if I am not greatly mistaken." "Let the man get up, Zed," I said, not very well pleased will my companion's untimely merriment, for I was smarting from the blow on the arm; and, to say the truth, my knuckles were cut as if I had struck a stone wall; "let the man get up, and if he wants to be knocked down again, he shall have it." No sooner was his throat free, however, than Zed's assailant sprang upon his feet, and took to his heels as fast as he could go. The other two followed at the same speedy pace, although Zed cried aloud,-- "You need not run, Mr. Turner; you are a good man, and come to help me first." However, none of them stayed; for it is rather a dangerous thing in these states for a negro to be any way mixed up with an affray in which a white man is struck.