Sarah made tea and put it with meat and milk and doughnuts and bread and butter on the table for them.  Samson washed and bandaged the boy’s wound.  The captives ate as if they were hungry while the minister went out to feed his dog.  When the men had finished eating Samson offered them tobacco.  The oldest man filled his pipe and lighted it with a coal.  Not one of the captives had said a word until this tall Tennessean remarked after his pipe was going: 

“Thankee, mister.  You done been right good to us.”

“Who told you to come here?” Samson demanded.

“‘Twere a man from St. Louis.  He done said you hated the South an’ were holpin’ niggers to run away.”

“And he offered to pay you to come here and burn this house and run Traylor out of the county, didn’t he?” Abe asked.

“He did—­yes, suh—­he suah did,” answered the man—­like a child in his ignorance and simplicity.

“I thought so,” Abe rejoined.  “You tackled a big job, my friend.  Did you know that every one of you could be sent to prison for a term of years and I’ve a good mind to see that you go there.  You men have got to begin right now to behave yourselves mighty proper or you’ll begin to sup sorrow.”

Stephen Nuckles returned as Abe was speaking.

“You jest leave ’em to me, Mr. Lincoln,” he said.  “These be good men but ol’ Satan done got his hooks on ’em.  Mis’ Traylor, ef you don’t mind I be goin’ to do a job o’ prayin’ right now.  Men, you jest git down on yo’ knees right hyar along o’ me.”

The men and the minister knelt on the puncheon floor while the latter prayed long and loudly for the saving of their souls.  Every one who heard it felt the simple, moving eloquence of the prayer.  Kelso said that Christ’s love of men was in it.  When the prayer was ended the minister asked permission to go with the raiders to the barn and spend the night with them.  Of this curious event Samson wrote in his diary: 

* * * * *

“Of what was done in the barn I have no knowledge but when Nuckles came back to the house with them in the morning the minister said that they had come into the fold and that he would promise for them that they would be good citizens in the future.  They got their breakfast, fed and watered their horses and rode away.  We found five men up in the tree-tops and the dog on watch.  The minister went out and preached to them for about half an hour and then prayed for their souls.  When that was over he said: 

“’Now, boys, be you ready to accept Christ and a good breakfast?  If not you’ll have to git a new grip on yer pews an’ set right thar while I preach another sermon.  Thar ain’t nary one of us goin’ to break our fast till you’re willin’ to be saved.’

“They caved in.

“‘I couldn’t stan’ another sermon no how,’ said one in a sorrowful voice.  ‘I feel like a wownded bird.  Send up a charge o’ buck shot if you keer to, but don’t preach no more sermons to me.  It’s jest a waste o’ breath.  I reckon we’re all on the monah’s bench.’