of the constables pulled out their shining pistols, and swore, by their Creator, that they would make him cross his hands or kill him.  Each cocked his pistol, and, with fingers on the trigger, walked up to Henry, saying, at the same time, if he did not cross his hands, they would blow his damned heart out.  “Shoot me, shoot me!” said Henry; “you can’t kill me but once.  Shoot, shoot,—­and be damned! I won’t be tied!” This he said in a tone of loud defiance; and at the same time, with a motion as quick as lightning, he with one single stroke dashed the pistols from the hand of each constable.  As he did this, all hands fell upon him, and, after beating him some time, they finally overpowered him, and got him tied.

During the scuffle, I managed, I know not how, to get my pass out, and, without being discovered, put it into the fire.  We were all now tied; and just as we were to leave for Easton jail, Betsy Freeland, mother of William Freeland, came to the door with her hands full of biscuits, and divided them between Henry and John.  She then delivered herself of a speech, to the following effect:—­addressing herself to me, she said, “You devil!  You yellow devil! it was you that put it into the heads of Henry and John to run away.  But for you, you long-legged mulatto devil!  Henry nor John would never have thought of such a thing.”  I made no reply, and was immediately hurried off towards St. Michael’s.  Just a moment previous to the scuffle with Henry, Mr. Hamilton suggested the propriety of making a search for the protections which he had understood Frederick had written for himself and the rest.  But, just at the moment he was about carrying his proposal into effect, his aid was needed in helping to tie Henry; and the excitement attending the scuffle caused them either to forget, or to deem it unsafe, under the circumstances, to search.  So we were not yet convicted of the intention to run away.

When we got about half way to St. Michael’s, while the constables having us in charge were looking ahead, Henry inquired of me what he should do with his pass.  I told him to eat it with his biscuit, and own nothing; and we passed the word around, “Own nothing;” and “Own nothing!” said we all.  Our confidence in each other was unshaken.  We were resolved to succeed or fail together, after the calamity had befallen us as much as before.  We were now prepared for any thing.  We were to be dragged that morning fifteen miles behind horses, and then to be placed in the Easton jail.  When we reached St. Michael’s, we underwent a sort of examination.  We all denied that we ever intended to run away.  We did this more to bring out the evidence against us, than from any hope of getting clear of being sold; for, as I have said, we were ready for that.  The fact was, we cared but little where we went, so we went together.  Our greatest concern was about separation.  We dreaded that more than any thing this side of death.