“We traveled for days and that covered wagon got extremely hot while the sun was beating down upon it. When we at last came to the slave market, we were separated and ushered into pens. I was there for three days before it became my turn up on the slave block.”

“My first master was none too pleased to discover I didn’t speak the language and beat me often. Within days, he sold me to another who treated me even worse. I longed to die, just to end the humiliation and agony which had become my life. But I simply couldn’t bring myself to do it.”

Lifting up his tunic, he shows James the patchwork of scars, the result of being beaten and tortured by his former owners. From neck to waist, he can see where his friend had been cut, burned and who knows what. Dave twists and he can see his back is even worse. “I’m sorry,” is all he can think to say at the horror his friend must have endured.

Replacing his tunic, he continues, “Finally I was sold to an inn and worked there until I heard him play ‘Home on the Range’. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing at first. Then something came over me and I had to reach him, to see if he was real. In the back of my mind I knew I would be facing a beating, but I couldn’t stop myself. I rushed through the crowd and made for the stage where he was playing. But I didn’t make it. They stopped me before I could reach him and dragged me out of there. I was beat to within an inch of my life.”

“As I lay there in my pen later that evening, pain throbbing in every part of my body, Perrilin came to me. You know the rest.”

Tears in his own eyes, James comes forward to give his friend a hug. “You’re safe now.” Glancing back to Perrilin, he says, “Thank you for bringing him here.”

“I take it you know him then?” asks Perrilin.

“All my life, he’s my best friend,” replies James.

“How did he come to be here?” Ceryn asks.