"Thee can't enter my premises," said one of the Friends, in rather
a musical voice.
The negro-catchers urged their claim to the slave, and intimated
that, unless they were allowed to secure him, they would force
their way in. By this time, several other Quakers had gathered
around the barn-door. Unfortunately for the kidnappers, and most
fortunately for the fugitive, the Friends had just been holding a
quarterly meeting in the neighborhood, and a number of them had
not yet returned to their homes.
After some talk, the men in drab promised to admit the hunters,
provided they procured an officer and a search-warrant from a
justice of the peace. One of the slave-catchers was left to see
that the fugitive did not get away, while the others went in
pursuit of an officer. In the mean time, the owner of the barn
sent for a hammer and nails, and began nailing up the barn-door.
After an hour in search of the man of the law, they returned with
an officer and a warrant. The Quaker demanded to see the paper,
and, after looking at it for some time, called to his son to go
into the house for his glasses. It was a long time before Aunt
Ruth found the leather case, and when she did, the glasses wanted
wiping before they could be used. After comfortably adjusting them
on his nose, he read the warrant over leisurely.
"Come, Mr. Dugdale, we can't wait all day,"' said the officer.
"Well, will thee read it for me?" returned the Quaker.
The officer complied, and the man in drab said,--
"Yes, thee may go in, now.
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