who evidently wore the garb of a man whose profession bound him to speak
for the dumb, but he, standing head and shoulders above all that were
round about, spoke the first hard sentence against me. Said he, "That
fellow is a runaway I know; put him in jail a few days, and you will soon
hear where he came from." And then fixing a fiend-like gaze upon me, he
continued, "if I lived on this road, _you_ fellows would not find such
clear running as you do, I'd trap more of you."

But now comes the pinch of the case, the case of conscience to me even at
this moment. Emboldened by the cruel speech just recited, my captors
enclosed me, and said, "Come now, this matter may easily be settled
without you going to jail; who do you belong to, and where did you come
from?"

The facts here demanded were in my breast. I knew according to the law of
slavery, who I belonged to and where I came from, and I must now do one of
three things--I must refuse to speak at all, or I must communicate the
fact, or I must tell an untruth. How would an untutored slave, who had
never heard of such a writer as Archdeacon Paley, be likely to act in such
a dilemma? The first point decided, was, the facts in this case are my
private property. These men have no more right to them than a highway
robber has to my purse. What will be the consequence if I put them in
possession of the facts. In forty-eight hours, I shall have received
perhaps one hundred lashes, and be on my way to the Louisiana cotton
fields. Of what service will it be to them. They will get a paltry sum of
two hundred dollars. Is not my liberty worth more to me than two hundred
dollars are to them?

I resolved therefore, to insist that I was free. This not being
satisfactory without other evidence, they tied my hands and set out, and