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swore he'd kill me if 1 told on 'em. I knew they was gonna break into the general store to steal arms and gunpowder, but I swear I didn't know they planned to kill Mr. Bathurst and Mr. Gibbs. Nossir. I let on like I was with 'em, but as soon as I could, I slipped away and come back to the house. I wanted freedom, you know, but I wasn't ready to kill nobody, 'least not on the Sabbath."
    Tiberius began coughing from the smell of gunpowder drifting into the barn. Outside, every few moments another Negro was executed by the Carolina militia. He looked at the nearly empty bottle in Colonel Bull's hand and, panting a little, said, "You think I could whet my throat with some of that?" Bull stepped forward, grabbed Tiberius's hair in his left hand, and held the flask to the prisoner's lips with his right. Liquor ran down the sides of Tiberius's mouth. After his last swallow, he clamped shut his eyes as the home brew burned its way down. Then Tiberius sighed, and went on:
    "So I knew what they was hup to, yessir. But I wasn't part of it, not at first When I got to Mastah Boswell's house, it wasn't cold enough to start a fire, so I went right to the smokehouse and got some ham hanging from the rafters, then to the dairyhouse. I took all the fixin's for breakfast back to the kitchen. I didn't see Della. So I started makin' Mastah Boswell's breakfast myself. That took, oh, maybe two hours. Then, just as I was settin' the food on the table, I heard singin' outside. Thought I heard a drum too. Then the back door burst open. All of a sudden, I seen Jemmy and another fellah named Hannibal come flying barefoot through the dining room, so fast if I'd blinked I woulda missed 'em. Me, I stopped breathin'. I froze right where I was, butterin' a slice a toast, starin' at the ceilin' overhead. It was quiet, quiet, quiet. My head felt light. Didn't a sound breathe through that house until from hup-stairs I heard a
thump.
Godamercy, they musta cut Mastah Boswell's throat straightaway. Next come his wife screaming. They took their time with her, playin' with her, I reckon. And since I didn't know what else to do—I mean, I was part of this thing now, whether I was ready or not—I sat down at the table, stuck a napkin under my collar, and commenced to eatin' that nice breakfast I put out before it got cold. I figure there wasn't no sense in it goin' to waste, right? 'Bout time I was finishin' my second cup of mint tea, Jemmy and Hannibal come downstairs, blood splattered over 'em like they been to a butcherin'. Hannibal was carryin' Mastah Boswell's head. He put it on the front porch like a Halloween pumpkin..."
    Colonel Bull muttered something, then swung the butt of his gun against Tiberius's head, knocking him off the barrel. Hutchenson and Whittaker pulled him off the prisoner, who was bleeding now from a gash on his forehead. Hutchenson helped him back onto the barrel.
    "Why'd you'd do that?" Tiberius's head was tucked like a turtle's. He asked Hutchenson, "Why'd he
do
that? I been tellin' the truth!" He watched them talking among themselves, whispering, and angrily brought out, "No, I'm
not
lyin'! What's that? What'd he say? Colonel Bull sayin' I tried to drag him off his horse? Oh,
that's
where I remember you from! Well sir, I ... I ain't callin' you no liar, I wouldn't do
that.
I guess maybe me'n some of the others
did
pull a white man off his horse when he come ridin' down Pon Pon Road ... but I just got swept hup in the rebellion, that's all."
    They were quiet for a few moments. Hutchenson had that sad look on his face again. Colonel Bull began loading his rifle. Whittaker took a step toward Tiberius, who flinched, waiting to be hit again, but all the overseer did was ask a simple question.
    "Nossir, Mistah Whittaker, I did
not
kill anybody. know me better'n that. I wouldn't hurt a fly, sir. It's just that, like I was tryin' to tell you, I felt like I'd been sleepin'
all
my life and just woke hup. You a Christian man, right? You