"Go on! Take the boat!" He pressed
on slowly, Judge Clayton at his side, and they two passed on up the
gang-plank and into the boat itself. The leader of the boat
forces, who had retired again to the steamer deck, faced them here.
It was Dunwody himself who reached out, caught him in a fell grip
and took away from him his rifle.
"Call your men off!" he cried. "Do you all want to get killed?"
"You pirates!" exclaimed the boat leader as soon as he could get
his breath. "What do you mean by firing on us here? We're
peaceable men and on our own business."
Dunwody stood supporting himself on his rifle, the stock of it
under his arm. "You call this peace!" he said. "We didn't intend
to attack you. We're after a fugitive slave. I'm a United States
marshal. You've killed some of our men, and you fired, first.
You've no right--Who are you?" he cried, suddenly pushing closer to
his prisoner in the half light. "I thought I knew your voice!
You--Carlisle--What are you doing here?"
[Illustration: "Who are you?" he cried suddenly.
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