Then they clapped a halter round his neck, and told him to "down on his knees,
and say his prayers at once, for he had but two minutes to live!"

He replied, that he "did not want to say his prayers NOW,
for that he was no thief, and had always been a true slave to his master."

This fine sentiment of the poor black was entirely lost
on our malignant whites; who, throwing the end of the halter

over the limb of an oak, tucked him up as though he had been a mad dog.
He hung till he was nearly dead; when one of them called out,

"D--n him, cut him down, I'll be bound he'll tell us now."
Cudjo was accordingly cut down; and, as soon as a little recovered,

questioned again about his master. But he still declared
he knew nothing of him. He was then hoisted a second time;

and a second time, when nearly dead, cut down and questioned as before:
but still asserted his ignorance. The same inhuman part was acted on him

a third time, but with no better success; for the brave fellow still continued
faithful to his master, who squatted and trembled in his place of torment,

his brier bush, and saw and heard all that was passing.
Persuaded now that Cudjo really knew nothing of his master, they gave up

the shamefulcontest, and went off, leaving him half dead on the ground,
but covered with glory.

It is not easy to conceive a situation more severely torturing
than this of captain Snipes. His house, with all his furniture,

his kitchen, his barn and rice-stacks, his stables, with several fine horses,
and his negro houses, all wrapped in flames; himself scorched and blistered

with the furious heat, yet not daring to stir; his retreat well known
to a poor slave; and that slave alone, in the hands of an enraged banditti,

with their muskets at his breast, imprecating the most horrid curses
on themselves, if they did not instantly murder him unless he disclosed

the secret! What had he to expect of this poor slave,
but that he would sink under the dreadful trial, and to save himself

would sacrifice his master. But Snipes was safe. To discover
his hiding-place, death stared his slave in the face, but, happily,

his slave possessed for him that "love which is stronger than death."
Captain Snipes and his man Cudjo had been brought up from childhood together;

and the father of our hero being a professor of Christianity,
a Baptist preacher, whose main excellence is "to teach little children

to love one another," had taken great pains to inspire his son
with love towards his little slave. Nor did that love pass unrequited.

For Cudjo used every day to follow his young master to school,
carrying his basket for him, prattling as he went; and smiling,

would remind him of the coming Saturday, and what fine fishing and hunting
they would have that day. Many a time had they wrestled,

and slept side by side on the green; and thence springing up again
with renovated strength, set out in full march for some favorite fruit tree,

or some cooling pond, there to swim and gambol in the refreshing flood.
And when the time of dinner came, Cudjo was not scornfully left

to sigh and to gnaw his nails alone, but would play and sing about the door
till his young master was done, and then he was sure to receive

a good plate full for himself. LOVE, thus early ingrafted on his heart,
grew up with daily increasing strength to manhood; when Snipes,

by the death of his father, became master of the estate,
made Cudjo his driver or overseer, and thus rivetted on his honest bosom

that sacred friendship which, as we have seen, enabled him to triumph
in one of the severest trials that human nature was ever put to.

The above is a solemn fact, and the wise will lay it to heart.
Chapter 21.

Marion pursues major Muckleworth -- fine anecdote of the major --
Marion's generosity to him.

Learning that a detachment of the British were marching up Black river
towards Statesburgh and Camden, general Marion gave orders to chase;

which was conducted, as usual, with such rapidity,
that about sunset of the second day we came up with them. Our advance,

composed of choice fellows, instantly began to skirmish with the enemy,
of whom they killed eight or nine. A few on both sides, rather badly wounded,

were made prisoners. Marion, coming up, gave orders to call off the troops,
meaning to give the enemy a serious brush in the morning. --

But of this gratification they entirely disappointed us,
by striking their tents and pushing off in silence before day.

Soon as light returned, and the retreat of the British was announced,
we renewed the pursuit; and by late breakfast-time, reached the house

at which the enemy had refreshed themselves. This house belonged
to a poor, but excellent old lady, well known to Marion.

The general was hardly alighted from his horse, before the old lady
had him by the hand, declaring how happy she had always been to see him,

"but now," continued she, "if I an't right down sorry to see you,
then I'll be hanged."

Marion, with a look of surprise, asked her why she was sorry to see him NOW.
"Oh! don't I know you too well, general? don't I know that old Scratch himself

can't keep you from fighting? And now you are hurrying along here,
with all your men, only to fight the British. An't it so now, general?"

Marion told her, that that was indeed his business.
"Well, dear me now! and did I not tell you so? But pray now,

my dear general Marion, let me beg of you, don't you do any harm
to that dear good man, that major Muckleworth,* who went from here

a little while ago: for O! he's the sweetest-spoken, mildest-looking,
noblest-spirited Englishman I ever saw in all my born days.

As to that Rawdon and Tarleton, God's curse upon the thieves and blackguards!
I would not care if you could kill a thousand of THEM.

But that good major Muckleworth! indeed, indeed now general,
you must not hurt a hair of his head, for it would be such a crying sin."

--
* Simms gives this name as "McIlraith", and James as "M`Ilraith",

but in this one case, Weems' corruption of the name,
which colloquially means "much worth", is more satisfying. -- A. L., 1997.

--
Marion asked her in what respects was he better than other British officers.

"Better than other British officers!" replied the old lady. --
"Lord bless your dear soul, general Marion! Well, come along,

come along with me, and I'll let you see."
We followed the old lady, who, tripping along nimble as a girl,

conducted us into a clean looking cabin, wherein sat a middle-aged man
very genteelly dressed, and several wounded persons lying before him,

on pallets on the floor. Marion saluted the stranger, who informed us
that he was "a surgeon in the service of his Britannic majesty,

and left by major Muckleworth to take care of the wounded;
of whom, sir, I believe that nearly one half are your own men."

Here the old lady's face brightened up towards Marion; and giving him
a very significant look, she said, "Ah ha, general! didn't I tell you so?"

Then diving her withered hand in her pocket, she scooped up
a shining parcel of English guineas, and exultingly cried out,

"See there, general! see there's a sight for you? and every penny of it
given me by that dear good gentleman, major Muckleworth;

every penny of it, sir. Yes, and if you will but believe me, general,
when I and my daughters were getting breakfast for him and his people,

if he didn't come here himself with his sergeants, and had this place
swept out all so sweet and clean for them poor sick people;

and, with his own dear hands too, helped that gentleman there
to dress and doctor the poor things, that he did.

"And then besides all that, general, he was such a sweet spoken gentleman!
for when I asked him how his men came to be hurt so, he did not,

like that beast Tarleton, turn black and blue in the face,
and fall to cursing the d----d rebels. Oh no! not he indeed.

But he said with a smile, We got them wounded last night, madam,
in a little brush with your brave countryman, general Marion.