But it strikes me there's a nigger in the woodpile somewhere, as you Yankees say. He staggered back a few paces; and, before he could recover himself, Thames tripped up his heels, and, placing the point of the spike at his throat, threatened to stab him if he attempted to stir, or cry out. The last thing that she remembered was her eyes crossing as she tried to focus upon the crunch of leaves as she lay heaving upon them, dampening them further with the outpouring of her sweat as it leaked from her clothing. But he had shown no desire for information, no curiosity. ‘Only perhaps I can more readily do so if you will put down that pistol.
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