"Mr Lincoln — where can I find Mr Lincoln?"
"Great snakes, man!" A face was peering into mine. "Who are you? What's —"
"Slave-catchers!" cries Cassy. "Behind us — with guns and dogs."
"What's that, girl? Slave-catchers! My stars, get them up — here, Harry, lend a hand! John, you run to your uncle's — quick flow! Tell him slave-catchers come over the river — hurry, boy, there's no time to lose!"
I could have cried out in relief, but as I turned my head I saw in the distance figures clambering the bank, and heard the yelp of those accursed dogs.
"Get me to Lincoln, for God's sake!" I shouted. "Where is he — what house?"
"Lincoln? You mean Mr Abraham Lincoln? Why, he's up to Judge Payne's, ain't he, Harry? C'mon, then, mister, it ain't that far, ifn you can manage along. Harry, help the lady, there. This way, then — best foot forward!"
Somehow I managed to raise a run, and by blessed chance the house proved to be not more than a few furlongs away. I was aware of a hubbub behind us, and gathered that Buck and his friends had run into various Ohio citizens who were disputing their progress, but only verbally, for as we turned into a wide gateway, and our helpers assisted us up a long pathway to a fine white house, I heard the barking again, and what I thought was Buck's voice raised in angry defiance.
We stumbled up the steps, and someone knocked and beat on the panels, and a scared-looking nigger put his head round the door, but I blundered ahead, pushing him back, with a man helping Cassy beside me. We were in a big, well-lit hall, and I remember the carpet was deep red, and there was a fine mural painted on the wall above the stairs. People were hurrying out of the rooms; two or three gentlemen, and a lady who gave a little shriek at the sight of us.
"Good God!" cries one of the men. "What is the meaning — ? who are you — ?"
"Lincoln!" I shouted, and as my leg gave way I sat down heavily. "Where's Lincoln? I want him. I've been shot in the backside — slave-catchers! Lincoln!"
At this there was a great hubbub, and women swooning by the sound of it, and I hobbled to the newell post of the stair and hung on — I couldn't sit down, you understand. Cassy, with a man supporting her, tottered past me and sank into a chair, while the nicely-dressed ladies and gentlemen gaped at us in consternation, two horrid, bleeding scarecrows leaving a muddy trail across that excellent carpet. A stout man in a white beard was confronting me, shouting:
"How dare you, sir? Who are you, and what — ?"
"Lincoln," says I, pretty hoarse. "Where's Lincoln?"
"Here I am," says a voice. "What do you want with me?"
And there he was, at my shoulder, frowning in astonishment.
"I'm Fitzhoward," says I. "You remember —"
"Fitzhoward? I don't —"
"No, not Fitzhoward, blast it. Wait, though — Arnold — oh, God, no!" My mind was swimming. "No — Comber! Lieutenant Comber — you must remember me?"
He took a pace back in bewilderment. "Comber? The English officer — how in the world — ?"
"That's a slave girl," I gasped out. "I — I rescued her — from down South — the slave-catchers found us — chased us across river — still coming after us." And praise be to providence I had the sense to hit the right note. "Don't let them take her back! Save her, for God's sake!"
It must have sounded well, at least to the others, for I heard a gasp of dismay and pity, and one of the women, a little ugly battleship of a creature, bustles over to Cassy to take her hands.
"But — but, here, sir!" The stout chap was all agog. "What, a runaway girl? Septy, shut that door this minute — what's that? My God, more scarecrows! What the devil is this? Who are — ?"
I looked to the door, and my heart went down to my boots. The old nigger was clinging to the handle as though to support himself, his eyes rolling, the people of the house were rustling back to the doorways off the hall, the stout man — who I guessed was Judge Payne — had fallen silent. Buck stood in the doorway, panting hard, his clothes sodden and mud-spattered, with his gun cradled in his left arm, and behind him were the bearded faces of his fellows. Buck was grinning, though, with his loose lower lip stuck out, and now he raised his free hand and pointed at Cassy.
"That's a runaway slave there, mister — an' I'm a warranted slave-catcher! That scoundrel at the stair there's the thievin' skunk that stole her!" He took a pace forward into the hall. "I'm gonna take both of 'em back where they belong!"
Payne seemed to swell up. "Good God!" says he. "What — what? This is intolerable! First these two, and now — is my house supposed to be a slave market, or what?"
"I want 'em both," Buck was beginning, and then he must have realised where he was. "Kindly sorry for intrudin' on you, mister, but this is where they run to, an' this is where I gotta follow. So — jus' you roust 'em out here to me, an' we won't be troublin' you or your ladies no further."
For a moment you could have heard a pin drop. Then Buck added defiantly:
"That's the law. I got the law on my side."
I felt Lincoln stiffen beside me. "For God's sake," I whispered. "Don't let them take us!"
He moved forward a pace, beside Judge Payne, and I heard one of the ladies begin to sob gently — the first sobs before hysterics. Then Lincoln says, very quietly:
"There's a law against forcing an entry into a private house."
"Indeed there is!" cries the judge. "Take yourself off, sir — this instant, and your bandits with you!"
Buck glared at him. "Ain't forcin' nuthin'. I'm recapturin' a slave, like I'm legally entitled to. Anyone gits in my way, is harbourin' runaways, an' that's a crime! I know the law, mister, an' I tell you, either you put them out o' doors for us, or stand aside — because if they ain't comin' out, we're comin' in!"
Judge Payne fell back at that, and the other people shrank away, some of the women bolting back to the drawing room. But not the ugly little woman who bad her arm round Cassy's shoulders.
"Don't you move another step!" she cries out. "Nathan — don't permit him. They don't touch a hair of this poor creature's head in this house. Stand back, you bully!"
"But, my dear!" cries Payne in distress. "If what they say is true, we have no choice, I fear —"
"Who says it's true? There now, child, be still; they shan't harm you."
"Look, missus." Buck swaggered forward, limbering his rifle, and stood four-square, with his pals at his back. "You best 'tend to what your ol' man says. We got the law behind us." He glanced at Lincoln, who hadn't moved and was right in his path. "Step aside."
Lincoln still didn't move. He stood very easy and his drawl was steady as ever.
"On the subject of the law," says he, "you say she's a runaway, and that this man stole her. We don't know the truth about that, though, do we? Perhaps they tell a different tale. I know a little law myself, friend, and I would suggest that if you have a claim on these two persons, you should pursue it in the proper fashion, which is through a court. An Ohio court," he added. "And I'd further advise you, as a legal man, not to prejudice your case by armed house-breaking. Or, for that matter, by dirtying this good lady's carpet. If you have a just claim, go and enter it, in the proper place." He paused. "Good night, sir."
It was so cool and measured and unanswerable that I could have wept with relief to hear him — but I didn't know much about slave-catchers. Buck just grunted and sneered at him.
"Oh, yeah, I know about the courts! I guess I do — I bin to court before —"