"'I reckon I better find a doctor,' he says.

"'You get into my wagon and I'll take ye to a good one,' says Traylor.

"Just then Stephen Nuckles, the circuit minister, rode in with the big
bloodhound that follers him around.

"The other slaver had got off his hoss in the scrimmage. Traylor started
for him. The slaver began to back away and suddenly broke into a run. The
big dog took after him with a kind of a lion roar. We all began yelling
at the dog. We made more noise than you'd hear at the end of a hoss race.
It scairt the young feller. He put on more steam and went up the ladder
to the roof of the woodshed like a chased weasel. The dog stood barkin'
as if he had treed a bear. Traylor grabbed the ladder and pulled it down.

"'You stay there till I get away an' you'll be safe,' said he.

"The man looked down and swore and shook his fist and threatened us with
the law.

"Mr. Nuckles rode close to the woodshed and looked up at him.

"'My brother, I fear you be not a Christian,' he said.

"He swore at the minister. That settled him.

"'What's all this erbout?' Mr. Nuckles asked me.

"'He and his friend are from Missouri,' I says. 'They're lookin' for some
runaway slaves an' they come here and pitched into us, and one got