"Black man can teach jest as good as white. Come 'long o' me,
massa; I show massa somet'ing."

Wondering, I followed him past the huts, through the copse, into a
little clearing, when I saw a white man stripped to the shirt and
tightly bound to a tree.

"Dat is him!" cried Noah excitedly. "Dat is de white debbil what
say gib me mo'. I teach him lesson: he nebber want no mo'."

His tone already sent a shiver through me, but as he went on to
explain the nature of the lesson he intended, I shuddered with
horror.

"Dis berry night we burn him up!" he cried. "Massa Bold see? We tie
him up to de bough of de tree, and we light a lill fire, jest a
lill one, and first it warm his feet, and den it get bigger, and
creep up and up, and bimeby it come to his head, and den he burn
all up. Oh, yes; dat is a proper lesson for white debbils to
learn!"

"You will not do anything so horrible!" I murmured.

"Hobbible! Hain't my back hobbible? He laugh when he see ole whip
come whisk! whisk! on my po' back; well, den, I laugh when I see de
fire go creep, creep, and when I hear him holler. Oh, yes, it will
be a proper lesson, no mistake 'bout it."

And then the poor bound wretch, whose head was hanging forward as
though he were already in extremis, lifted his eyes and saw me.