He turned:  Legree was standing, sullenly, behind him.

Something in that dying scene had checked the natural fierceness of youthful passion.  The presence of the man was simply loathsome to George; and he felt only an impulse to get away from him, with as few words as possible.

Fixing his keen dark eyes on Legree, he simply said, pointing to the dead, “You have got all you ever can of him.  What shall I pay you for the body?  I will take it away, and bury it decently.”

“I don’t sell dead niggers,” said Legree, doggedly.  “You are welcome to bury him where and when you like.”

“Boys,” said George, in an authoritative tone, to two or three negroes, who were looking at the body, “help me lift him up, and carry him to my wagon; and get me a spade.”

One of them ran for a spade; the other two assisted George to carry the body to the wagon.

George neither spoke to nor looked at Legree, who did not countermand his orders, but stood, whistling, with an air of forced unconcern.  He sulkily followed them to where the wagon stood at the door.

George spread his cloak in the wagon, and had the body carefully disposed of in it,—­moving the seat, so as to give it room.  Then he turned, fixed his eyes on Legree, and said, with forced composure,

“I have not, as yet, said to you what I think of this most atrocious affair;—­this is not the time and place.  But, sir, this innocent blood shall have justice.  I will proclaim this murder.  I will go to the very first magistrate, and expose you.”

“Do!” said Legree, snapping his fingers, scornfully.  “I’d like to see you doing it.  Where you going to get witnesses?—­how you going to prove it?—­Come, now!”

George saw, at once, the force of this defiance.  There was not a white person on the place; and, in all southern courts, the testimony of colored blood is nothing.  He felt, at that moment, as if he could have rent the heavens with his heart’s indignant cry for justice; but in vain.

“After all, what a fuss, for a dead nigger!” said Legree.

The word was as a spark to a powder magazine.  Prudence was never a cardinal virtue of the Kentucky boy.  George turned, and, with one indignant blow, knocked Legree flat upon his face; and, as he stood over him, blazing with wrath and defiance, he would have formed no bad personification of his great namesake triumphing over the dragon.

Some men, however, are decidedly bettered by being knocked down.  If a man lays them fairly flat in the dust, they seem immediately to conceive a respect for him; and Legree was one of this sort.  As he rose, therefore, and brushed the dust from his clothes, he eyed the slowly-retreating wagon with some evident consideration; nor did he open his mouth till it was out of sight.

Beyond the boundaries of the plantation, George had noticed a dry, sandy knoll, shaded by a few trees; there they made the grave.