But I was, in some degree, mistaken; and I could not help admiring the presence of mind and ability displayed by Nat Turner in that perilous moment. The approaching party, attracted by the report of the guns, had come up at speed, and in some dismay; nor were they, it would seem, at all prepared to meet with any of the revolted negroes there. In an instant, Nat Turner seemed to perceive where they were weakest and most scattered, as well as where he could soonest reach the difficult ground of the Swamp; and, clubbing his gun, he dashed at that point, calling to the others to follow. He had to pass Matthew Leary as he went; and the man attempted to catch his rein; but one blow from the stock of the gun brought the Irishman to the ground; and, had his skull been originally constructed in any other country than Ireland or Africa, he never would have risen again. It did not interrupt the negro for a moment in his course. A tall farmer tried to stop him likewise, but he was struck from his horse in a moment. The other negroes followed through the gap he had made in the line of the white men, and the three first burst clear through. The fourth was captured on the spot. "Follow, follow quick!" cried the sheriff. "Take them, alive or dead." But Nat Turner and his companions galloped on, and scattered as soon as they got into more open ground. Pistol shots were fired after them; but on they went, plunging through the morasses, leaping the fallen trees, and taking advantage of every obstruction in the ground to distance their pursuers. One even had the hardihood to turn and fire upon a man who was chasing him; for one of the sheriff's party returned shortly afterwards with a pretty severe wound in his shoulder. In the meantime, I had unfastened the door of the cabin, and joined the sheriff and the four or five gentlemen who remained with him: Bessy, and old Aunt Jenny, also, came to the door, and one of those confused scenes of inquiry and explanation took place, which it is hardly possible to describe. "Why, how is this?" inquired the sheriff, in his dry, laconic way, as soon as he saw us. "All sorts of birds gathered together! Miss Davenport, I am glad to see you safe at last. Your uncle Henry, with Billy Byles, has gone on to seek you across the line; but here is matter we must look to at once. Here, you fellow, you Leary----" "Don't call me a fellow, sir," said Leary, in an insolent tone. "I am a free American citizen, and as good as you any day." The sheriff's lip curled with a contemptuous smile. "I should not like to be as bad as you, Master Leary," he said, "for I know I should have the penitentiary very often in my thoughts; but is your master here, dead or living?" "I know nothing about him, and he's no master of mine," answered Leary; "but I'll just turn him over and see."