As he spoke, he seated himself where he had before been lying, putting his musket carelessly down beside him, as if he had no apprehension that I would take advantage of any negligence on his part. I was more careful; for what he had said of more ears being near than ours had roused suspicions; and placing my gun close to my hand as I seated myself, I drew the pistol from my pocket, and laid it within reach. "There is no need of such care," he said, in a somewhat sarcastic tone;--"the first loud call, the first gun-report, will bring plenty of others hither." "I have _your_ life, at all events, at my command," I replied. "You cannot escape me; and I do not intend you shall, though my own life be lost the moment after." The man laughed till he showed all his white row of teeth. "Why, then," demanded he, "should I tell you anything? But be not too sure, Englishman. I would fain spare your life. You are not one of our oppressors; you have never held a slave. Your countrymen, I hear, have set my countrymen free, wherever they were in bondage; and we have no quarrel with you." "Then why," I exclaimed, thinking of the unhappy McGrubber, "did you kill a man who was the advocate of your emancipation, the bold denouncer of your masters? Why did you chop him to pieces with your axes, in Mr. Stringer's house?" "Because he did it all for his own selfish purposes," answered Turner; "because he did it all for the political ends of himself, and his party, not for any love of us, or of freedom, or of justice. Do you think we are to be caught by such vain talk? Do you think we never hear from our brethren who have fled to those Northern states? Do you think they do not send us word that they are worse off there than they are here? That they are treated like dogs by the very men who pretended to be their friends? That they are excluded from their churches? That to ride in the same carriage with them is an abomination--to shake them by the hand--a defilement? Do you think that we know all these things and then--although all that these preachers and Abolitionists say is true, holy as the gospel, just as God himself--do you think, I ask, we give them thanks for what they say, when their acts do not accord with their words, and we know by their deeds that they despise and hate us, although they profess to regard us as brethren, and equal with themselves?" "Well, well," I answered, "all these abstruse discussions are vain. I know nothing of your parties in this land; I have nothing to do with them. I act as I think right myself; and I try to keep my professions and my deeds upon a par----" "And so you do," interrupted the man. "The question now is," I continued, "what have you to tell me concerning Miss Davenport?" "You shall hear presently," he answered. "Last night--a terrible night it was--and nothing but the will of God and His command sustained me in the dreadful work He had appointed me to do----"