It was a penknife. She said nothing,
but she stepped forward, the spirit of vengeance come out of the night;
but the old man touched her on the arm and said: "Little sweetheart, you
can't find no wild vines to dig up here with yo' knife."
"No," said Tom, "let me take it," and whispering, he added, "One word
from you and I will cut his throat. But you must be still."
She smiled at him and replied: "I will, because you say so," and again
the shy girl, trembling in the presence of one who loved her, she shrank
back and was a graceful shadow in the dusk.
"Mr. Stranger," said Jasper, "I am waitin' fur you ter untie that po'
old nigger."
"Thank you, Mr. Stranger," said the North Carolina man, "and I will when
we git through with him. He wanted to kill my dog so as he could steal
suthin', and a thief ought to be punished. That's a law I take with me
wharever I go."
"Good law," Jasper replied. "And thar's a law that's allus in force whar
I live and it's this here: when a thief is accused there must be some
proof befo' he is punished.
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