" At last, all had gone.
Josiah rose from his hiding place and listened as the clank of steel and
the sound of hurried horsemen died away. No other noises broke the
twilight stillness. He walked back to the roadside, and stood before the
pinioned and now lonely man. "You're caught at last, Peter Lamb."
"Oh, Lord!" cried the captive. "It's Josiah. For God's sake, let me
loose."
"Reckon I won't," said Josiah.
"I'm in agony--my arms--I shall die--and I am innocent. I did not do
anything. Won't you help me?"
"No--the Rebs will come and hang you."
The man's cunning awoke. He said the one thing, made the one plea which,
as he spoke, troubled Josiah's decision. "Is the Squire alive?"
"Why shouldn't he be alive?" asked Josiah, surprised.
"Oh, I saw in a paper that he was wounded at Gettysburg. Now, Josiah, if
he was here--if he was to know you left me to die."
Josiah was uncertain what he would have done. His simple-minded view of
things was disturbed, and his tendency to be forgiving kindly assisted to
give potency to the appeal. He said, "I won't set you free, but I'll do
this much," and he tore the paper from Peter's breast, saying, "You'll
get off with some lie when the Rebs come." Then he turned and walked
away, tearing up the death warrant and hearing the wild pleas of the
painfully bound man.
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