John Brown did not tell them at the trial. His lieutenant, Kagi, was dead. Green, Coppoc, Stevens, Copeland, Cook and Hazlett followed their captain to the gallows without a word. Perhaps only one man went on living who knew the full answers. His name was Frederick Douglass. Douglass has been attacked because he did not go with John Brown to Harper’s Ferry, because he did not testify in Brown’s defense, because he put himself outside the reach of pursuers who would drag him to the trial. He could not have saved John Brown and his brave followers. Every word of the truth would have drawn the noose tighter about their necks. It would have hanged Douglass! * * * * * It was on a pleasant day in September when the letter came from John Brown. It was very short. “I am forced to move sooner than I had planned. Before going forward I want to see you.” Brown, under the guise of a farmer interested only in developing a recently purchased piece of land, was living under an assumed name with his two “daughters”--actually a daughter and young Oliver’s wife. His men were keeping under cover. They made every effort to keep the farm normal-looking. Brown asked Douglass to come to Chambersburg. There he would find a Negro barber named Watson, who would conduct him to the place of meeting. A last line was added: “Bring along the Emperor. Tell him the time has come.” Douglass knew that he referred to Shields Green, a fugitive slave, whom the old man had met in his house. Green, a powerful black, had escaped from South Carolina. He was nicknamed “the Emperor” because of his size and majestic carriage. Brown had seized upon him immediately, confiding to him his plan, and Green had promised to go with him when Brown was ready to move. They set out together, stopping over in New York City with a Reverend James Glocester. Upon hearing where they were going, Mrs. Glocester pressed ten dollars into Douglass’ hand. “Give it to Captain Brown, with my best wishes,” she said. They sped southward past the waving, green fields and big, white farms of prosperous Dutch farmers. Douglass sat by the window with his massive head sunk forward, not looking out. Then the train curved into the Blue Ridge Mountains where the pine-covered hills begin, and stopped at Chambersburg, Pennsylvania. The first man at the depot whom they asked directed them to Watson, the barber. He stood looking after the two Negroes as they strode down the platform. “Damned if they don’t walk like they own the earth!” he grunted. Watson called to his boy when they stepped into his shop. He took them to his house, where his wife greeted the great Frederick Douglass and his friend with much fluttering. “Make yourselves at home,” said the barber. “As soon as it is dark I will drive you out to the old stone quarry. That’s the place, but we must wait until dark.”