"
He spread the lather over the red face. "Head back a bit--that's right
comfortable now, isn't it?"
"All right--go ahead."
Josiah took his razor. "Now, then," he said, as he set a big strong
hand on the man's forehead, "if you move, I'll cut your throat--keep
quiet--don't you move. You told I was a slave--you ruined my life--I
never did you no harm--I'd kill you just as easy as that--" and he
drew the blunt cold back of the razor across the hairy neck.
"My God!--I--" The man shuddered.
"Keep still--or you are a dead man."
"Oh, Lord!" groaned Lamb.
"I would kill you, but I don't want to be hanged. God will take care
of you--He is sure. Some day you will do some wickedness worse than
this--you just look at me."
There was for Peter fearful fascination in the black face of the man who
stood looking down at him, the jaw moving, the white teeth showing, the
eyes red, the face twitching with half-suppressed passion.
"Answer me now--and by God, if you lie, I will kill you. You set some one
on me? Quick now!"
"I did."
"Who was it? No lies, now!"
"Mr. George Grey." Then Josiah fully realized his danger.
"Why did you?"
"You wouldn't help me to get whisky."
"Well, was that all?"
"You went and got the preacher to set Mr. Penhallow on me.
Pages:
186
187
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210